The
sentiment has been lingering about my shoulders
Wrapping
the abdomen clenching as a check on my flesh
To
consider who I am, what I am doing, what I want
Human
faces appear to me as interchangeable molecules
Blurred
and dispersed, forming and un-forming
Fashionable
fabrics and threads adorn façade vehicles
The
contents, the passengers seem so inaccessible
The
gluttony of height, width, length and time entwine
Like
packaged manifestations of a cinematic matrix
Fuzzing
out into the source code of knowledge of contemplation
What
is one thinking, planning, chosen, choosing, wanting inside the bubbles?
The
school of organisms shifts and slides across irrelevant parameters
Of
continents and newscasts playing out a pantomime of chivalrous autonomy
As
if the super-organism is answering beyond the discretion of any one input
But
all, yet none, yet all, but none
I
am wading here in this ghastly silence bracing tongue to speak
Daring
the certitude to expect feedback, exchange as if a man speaking to God
Claiming
saints or devils will reciprocate such luxuries of correspondence
As
placeholders or emissaries of a universal connection tethered
To
our misguided notions of good or evil
I
see the rattling haughty laugh of significances baffle the whelp upon my chest
The
stiffness crouching on my deltoids with a larynx echoing through a black hole
Daring
to defy such gravity as if the volume from there to here were subject to
distance
The
meters and roads, ears and skin all disintegrating in awe to the true expanse
I
see the calculations, the accusations of insanity throttled at my rib,
Set
to challenge life as we know it to be documented by goat-men and eyeballs
The
abundance of tactile and visual structures is dwarfed like that of the
countless galactic stars
To
our sun to our subset of planets to the infinitude of rocks and gaseous spheres
Beyond
our perception; this differential is pitied to that of the absence of all
physical existence
To
grasp at that which haunts me with such ubiquitous obviousness
The
pulling apart of the cellular netting of my hands, the blood, the limbs
The
collective of human noses, ears, mouths, the nail beds yanked out into not dust
But
placeholders as conceptual prisms to shelter that which is relevant
Wherein
the paradigm of time can rest to offer the illusion of choice
In
a prism worthy of love itself; that I choose to love my brother; my sister
chooses to love me
We
are dancing, in such we default to these bodies, but once transcended in the
thoughtful identity
Find
them unnecessary and our hours of fret feckless immaturity
So
in the Olympics of gathering acquaintances into comrades or lovers
I
have been debased for a prerequisite vocation to forge the highways of the
calling
I
have failed repeatedly as the bodies and the voices appear so redundantly
identical
On
the peripheral, I can find no entry point of conversing
The
depths, the shallows, the roots are held like covered caverns
As
mountain after mountain appears like solid rock and the spelunking into the darkness
Is
of great interest, put the rock itself standing out, rising from the desert
Appears
in vast flatness in sand or water the Atlantic and the Sahara exchange roles
In
irrelevant tomorrows and yesterdays and so rarely in todays
I
have less then twenty-five todays in my thirty-four years
Such
a pittance in the collection, and yet I mock the allotment
Knowing
the count is assumed to be so near its end, taking not for granted
But
wanting so very much the birth of the now to access that which is the brightest
extract
Of
that which I detect as in the essence of existential equilibrium
Floating
in peace, dangling in excruciating simplicity apart and dissolving
In
the elimination of so much of this blasphemous extraneous commotion
The
impertinence soaks into the skin of the parade goers and I am dumbfounded
I
know not what the discernible segmentation between this or that
The
pleonastic repetition is deafening counting down my senses into nothingness
Just
a prosaic plane in concept, but battering me with stimulation of what cannot be
held
Taunting
me like deceased authors tormented into madness writing at me from their graves
Who
faced the same demon, knowing now what they knew then in parcel smidgeon
Released
to the recognizances of imagination freed from this doorstop body
And
left to wander in that which interconnects so damning these petty allegiances
Held
here for sport and fear of perdition or vengeance from the rat kings and queens
A
pox on such blindness; I prefer a divergent variety of sight, damn the
assumption of retinas
Damn
the digits on the pen or the salty-bitter on the tongue; I am tasting indulgent
sanity
For
once and I am crying out for discourse, that someone else dare
Call
out the naked emperors of what is this life magnetically ecstatic
The
people are dancing, dancing bathing in it; I see them out there
So
often drenched in its bounty, yet knowing not how to elucidate with specified eloquence
The
interdependent other is shining like a beacon on our common-dwelling
I
want to enter and find my tongue stolen, my arms truncated, my ears lopped
I
am gasping; I am screaming behind this screen for the recognition of the preposterous
Defamation
we do to ourselves and our grand felicity so close, yet the disparity between
Knowing
the caverns exist, yet not how to enter them is the madness of
Voltaire,
Spinoza, Clemons, Einstein, Hitchens, Nietzsche and
I
dare to think it has caught me too
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