tafgh

You ever wake up and stare at your ceiling for a while to see the end of the dream you just had? Yes? No? Well, welcome to my reality. Geometric patterns form subtle rainbow coloured lines Blue skies are pools of swimming sprites of light Plain, white ceiling become movie theaters, full of short, violent projections. The coffee table I bought at Ikea last week contains a waterfall of white particles. And all I can do is smile and remember That it's not real. It's not real. It's not real. It's just noise. Just snow. Just a bored brain

Sometimes the world is not. He's fallen Apart into small, little bits And thoughts that all go their own Way. The essence explodes Into a fragmentation of films That uncontrollably and untelling undo one another. In the chaos, I close my eyes. It becomes dark and I breathe a Deep wind into the world. The wild noise necessitates the parts Into silence. They look at Each other and see. Understanding. Meaning.

I am a God in the deepest depths of my thought Sitting in the innermost of my soul enthroned Over myself and the all, my heritage honed From own battles and triumph, from my strength uncaught. And like an angry mob of dark wild forces It rises up to me and falls back, fleeing For raising my palm and radiant crown I am a God in the deepest depths of my thought --  And yet, endlessly I yearn at times to wrap Around thine adored appendages my arms And, loudly sobbing, with all my glow And pride, and calm glory to drown On thine lips in a wild flow Of kisses, where words I no longer found.

Like a ronin, a samurai that has no master, this guy wanders through life without having anything to lose. You may have seen this kind of guy in a western movie, his eyes tortured, but gentle. You can see that he has walked a long path, one which he did not choose. And like that lonesome cowboy, he wanders off into the sunset, to get his kicks and feast on life while he can. Careless of God, of Life and all the rest. Careless of Death. No, this cowboy cares only for his principles and his vague memories. He only cares for himself. Now at night, in his dreams, he sees her face. The sweet lady that he once loved comes to him to bring him back

I am saddened that we are thrown into life like this. Without music. Just a savage cry, blood and shit. I am saddened that we are thrown into this static void. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. From thoughts to shapes, we suffer the pain of becoming and unbecoming. At our greatest heights, we are forgotten. In the darkest depths, our voices untethered and wild, maddening. And yet as we are thrown into this wilderness of colours and despair, we rise like the birds at the break of dawn to fly over the great lands, through turbulent skies to lush green places. And like the ancient phoenix, when we seem lost and all around is dark, a fire will sp

I'm sure that my need is dire. The need to set this night on fire. The need to dance, the need to live. I told you that my need is dire. I'm certain my need is dire. I need new people to tire New minds to explore, new energy to give. My need is no need. It is a desire. And like the funeral pyre In which it will end. I must set this night on fire. For it is my eternal wish To be set alight and turn into dust and sand. Fried medium rare like a tuna fish.

Seven little hairs flew off your head, Travelling far away from your bed. Tickling your bros chins, Not taking the hints That right next to them lies someone dead.

Down the river, the Moskva, a lonely boy sat on a bench. He seemed sad and lost as if he forgot his wench. I sat down next to him. He told me what happened: How they came, how he had to fight. How everything was futile, how only garbage would break his flight. He did smell. I didn't care and hugged him tight, whispering: It is here. You are in the light.

Since cocaine was removed and white beards Added, a man flew high with reindeer through the sky. Naturally, he was white, jolly and a Tubby. But that's okay we like them chubby. Anyway, he had slaves, short ones like children. Couldn't care to get paid, Like a pseudoexisting race. And people did not care for them, Unlike how they did like the old man and his coca cola. Saturnal fraud.

All seated around the table. Food is served around and prayers said. "Attack!", the general says. Like a house of cards, the silence crumbles and you can't seem to get a piece. All are getting executed, but the lieutenant won't give you orders. Bored to death. You shout, but over the cries of potatoes, no one heard you. Drowning in a sea of silent screams.