Writing Exercise 4

How stupid it was for the forces to come upon me. I am not their swaying tower; I will ravage the breathing night until only the insanity angle will remain invincible. That, the first step in the reincarnation of animal wisdom, will induce an earthquake to the sickness of cranial failure. Come to me flies in the trees and birds in the flowers. An instigator of the highest-power; rise institution, rise-realize-been there to the last hour. The wolves, the wolves are all red. The night is their canvas. They are the beast's of life. Their redder love is for the insanity angle; beautiful, fire blessed, the only true spiritual of the Suffering Diana learning to dance her moonlight religion. Bare as the wind and wise as the quiet earth; I am the real wild. I am guided by red. Hunger for the right dream my wolves. The night will pass and pale intention to incident like sunlight against spider web.
There is nothing if not bleeding honesty that the night isn't real, but helixes into the static of day and then the witch of dreams will know her moonlight.
Necessity, necessity. The only god that can help me.
In the wake of a life undone by a receding storm there are the undeniable occurrences not of the supernatural horror or of chemical manipulation, but of a natural happen-stance that instigates in the remarkable rhythm of fiction and I hear it.
How to describe a girl of a touched disposition and a women that seldom wakes. She knows her sisters in falling glory, but do you know them by their broken minds and sunset eyes? Swaying under cloud torn skies, breathing prophecies, heeding your discomfort like worried ghosts; they will know, more lushness besides your hollow words. In the tied existences of the pre meditated sculpture of youth they bleed and were bled and came rushing in as currents do to the shore to be swallowed up by a static tide pool. In dispensed, wooden homes their aching chaos stews and you... you went there, encroaching and shameless and met by cranial stares. What then was your purpose among those suffering Dianas that could shatter your template welded life into a thousand stars likened to their inner waring galaxies?
It never occurred to anyone; the necessity of breathing. She relied on her intangible vessel to see into the space of demented machines and skies that couldn't be bluer. The touch of the atoms only reach her from the cosmic umbilical that wraps around stars and tears her between the color and grey and with each time she wakes she is born again under skies not as blue. That morning the time was when the light was an uncertain white from the slanted sun and the air was spun into a deadening circle from the ceiling fan. Her soul fell into her body and her body was in the starchy grasp of a comforter. Her eyes met the room under a resentful squint, so reluctant to resurrect a most boring existence. Sleep was heavy in her veins, but if she must wake she had to be in the winds and under the sun. Once outside she made her way to a wooden shower that hydrated a flourishing thicket of wild flowers, bushes, and vines. They engulfed the door. She wiggled out of her loose clothing and ducked under the nozzle until the water became lukewarm. The atmosphere had already become balmy and laced with a mild breeze that wound it's way through the raised shower door, carrying the songs of insects and birds. Here, she could feel truly one with the world she looked down upon.

Harmful Truths

There were harmful truths all around and the snow covered them all.
Sweet winter in the quit of the morning. Pale from the first lie and cold from the silence.
When daggers of sun rays splintered off from the ice and frost gripped it's translucence on every Window we couldn't see them, but there they were.
In the spring, that is when we shouldn't have been caught unawares. Words can kill.
Secrets, sweet secrets only hide harmful truths.

So the summer and now the rain. Pain. Is that what was meant to be?
Sweeping on the front porch never saying a word. Kill no one.
Push dust of autumn. Eaten by the soil. And then turned crystal from cold.
Then water. When spring comes. Sinking deeper and deeper. We can bury. Dead.
No more words. That is how it should be; that is the nature of how it should be.
And then only are we safe.
Underneath the snow are harmful truths.

And they came. In the spring we were caught unaware.
Grow words in the warm that could kill.
Never bury harmful truths.

There's No Lover's in California Only Groupies

The voices in the sky they damn near moved me 

almost like a lovely groupie.

There’s no lovers in California 

No lovers in California

There’s no lovers in California 

Tap the vein, let it rest 

your only pretty when your a mess

Angles, Chakras, Valentine;

bleed it out from yours to mine.

Some of us aren’t spun in fiction

Some of us live like  vicious
Don’t lie to me, god damn groupie 

There’s no lovers in California 

There’s no lovers in California

There’s no lovers.

The Isles.

The isles of wild and green.
Sing the bliss; unseen and knowing.
I will walk the halls knowing and known.
Stone the citadel and wind's lark song;
A narration upon the sights unseen.
Not to me in a place of green waking.
Through the isles of paths seeing.

Cold, moving, still.

See Lightening

Don't look, don't hold. Your all that's left as the future comes before the storm. Don't think about what you are and why you promised to run. It won't be the same. Whatever you do, don't look. It's not an action without chaos and I breath it like air. Hold back! Hold back! why do I care. The season can change and has done too. It's a waterfall without hitting the lake, an arrow into a void. Don't hold back . We're all that's left and I can't wait to begin.
Something moves and there's nothing to hold it so lets go before it bests our will.
Can't you feel it in your blood? Ambition, sugar, sensation and several more trinities of inner fire packed like ammo and worn like armor, but it won't keep us down just far away.

A Series of Events

She has a kind mind
Like the fashion of the sociopathic.
Lighting queen; she's fantastic.
Miss I missed your fist
Stare down into a jack-o-lantern eye.

She can run the rounds
Etched, empty, in the night.
She and they are in sanctuary of virtual space.
Only space for their glamorous taste.

When you find kin in a world of your own
Then you are not alone.

The Hills

The earth runs deep in the skin of a god and so they say.
But all is quit now: bondage, blinding, beneath us.
Sums of summer past the days far away it will be gone
The moment we wake up and the wind simmers water
We could have drunken is not for the ill ambition
Of an already entitled intelligence weather it is lacking but not so bold.

The faux meet in the over hanging of a citadel; plaster and desperation
But they say it is sold as boredom creeping and over flowing into
The night, not what we expected but for now I see you and I picture
The vessel that died over and over until we met in the over pass.
A death for all that is greater than the peace of slight apathy.

Design

I have an eye for design.
I see the crack that runs down my mind and shifts the beauty of my soul into an ugly shadow.
It runs down from compassion; warped, faded. Breaking the human pattern.
I know the wrong colors in my words
I know the ugly streaks that blemish their strokes
Cruel, Desperate, Delirious.
I know.
I know how watered down they are and laced with lead
Haunted for becoming a master piece.
I have an eye for design
I know what I wear as I flaunt myself in the gallery.
So many people.
Some mediocre works, but they will never be as damaged as I.
I know the audience avert their gaze and the insightful may grimace.
I can do nothing, but don't insult my skill
From what others have vandalized.
I see it all so clearly
So much more than the casual viewer.
I have an eye for it.

Our Motion

I don't mind if you need to move out
Of the way of my
Melted sugar words
Lana Del Rey mind
And insane, lizard green eyes.
If there's something to save
Present it to me like a bouquet
Or better yet, just move out of the way.
I can't stop my
Hungry love  
Cosmic walk;
They're just in the way.

Shards

I'm not the portrait of the homicide of my inner child.

I dare you to eat me alive
I've been practicing my poison.

He makes love to some girl who isn't tearing apart at the seams on the inside
And who's mind isn't a sad madness like a
Black and white Van Gogh painting.
When they don't think I'm bright like daylight, I'm as sweet as sin;
Thanks for buying into my lie
Your just as dumb as my heart.

High

I'm so-
I want to be-
When I was-
All there is, is
H  I   G  H

o  m  o   o 

p        i    m

i         n   e 

n        g  

g 

Want

I am Want.
Your mind is yours, but your soul I haunt.

I'm hungry, hungry and I never tire;
The envy in luxury, the tactless in desire.

Prosperity's path is work the oracles say
I steal your discipline and you walk the other way.

Regret

If you don't know me, my name is Regret
the path of fear is where we met.

You could not believe what you had done
when the past was past and the songs were sung.

You stood there wishing, waiting, wanting more
While in silence, slowly, I closed the door.