Call me…
If ever I really need a friend to just talk to.
Call me…
If we ever need to work together, to work-out situations.
If, we ever, if we ever, get out of here.
Those rules apply to you.
I have pockets wide open.
But don’t you put something inside them of course.
This fear is passing…
This love is crossing…
This pain is fleeting…
The air which i breathe leaves me wanting more…
I NEED OXEGYN!
But, call me anytime…
Anytime you feel you need to talk to somebody.
I take it serious? Yeah! Why not?
Laughter has a hold on me, doesn’t it. Doesn’t it?
I can’t sleep because the expression on my face will stay stuck that way.
Call me when I’m tired, wake me up.
Call me when I’m alone, so somebody can come over.
Call me a boy cause I don’t wish to grow older.
Just call to mind our avaricious hearts.
Liminal spaces caught between worlds of brutality.
Out of the voidness into boundless grounds, light crosses the mashes.
Venturing off into the omni and meta verses.
Engulfing nebulas in stasis and encapsulating a mask to bare.
Under cold darkened stares. Beneath midnight covers. Stars spoke out again.
Asunder, tearing at the mountains and fields.
The scythe of bountiful harvest rests at his hands again.
In pain, the astrolabe goes with him.
Off rings of Saturn do Celestials ride once more.
Illusionary doors burst open.
Peering out of cataclysmic dust, earth bound, nature sounds.
Clouds wisp through dimensional rifts.
Waves of ember gray seek to revisit sun light again.
Vestige of empirical order give true sight to those blind.
Forgiven of nothing more than the love we shared and left baron.
We can only care so much they said.
They than look the other way, turned away.
He gave a wink, nod, and smile before leaving.
Some act out of their relations like Rimbaud and then dismiss even notoriety as a fluke knowin not who or what they could have been in the mind, less others they may have had, on occasion. If you pick up just one through one cast away writing in a bottle, time, in that very bottle may reoccur by some mystic law, or exgesis through,
and true.
That seminal works disseminate as all that pleasurable down the hatch, or flushed down , as if it never can germinate the oceans of wasted desire!?!
But oh no that’s not what time is, it gets later later , later still , until the late belated later sooner.
(Orchestrated Metamorphosis)
Primordial, I arrived before Christ, from the rising seas into mythology and creating works of art on land in the midst of fire. Taken by a token of air and on that night Secunda was silent, for I was brought by stoichiometry. I met Erubus, Thanatos, and Morpheus through apparitions going against the mortal world in hopes they visit again. The world wide pronoun astonished scholars and lucky patrons alike ie. The fourth and Prime Earth. They were anything but dead or alive. Death with which existed in them found life. Lack of energy from creation made astral projections of faster connections erudition, escapism, confliction, and hylozoism. The cost? Dirtier schools, courts, and hospitals. The mind spoke of trying but failed short every time. Something I’ve snacked on before, yet better near the Brooklyn bridge.
