Tuesday, September 24, 2013

"Continued neglect is a kind of violence."

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Cardiosubstitute


One, two, three, four.

Music, I hear. I hear it is Music.

The rhythm. Less suspect to fortune.

It changes, by choice. By choice, it can be controlled.

The beat. It beats. More dynamically.

Dynamic, the expansive detail, quality.

The Echo. It reverberates a hollow.

Ever full it sounds. Even fuller it sounds.

One, two, three, four.

The sounds that fill the space, of what was beating once.

Music, I hear. I hear it is Music.

Saturday, September 14, 2013

Omega


You have lost the battle and the war. You have lost the trust and the love. You have lost your mind and your heart. You have lost the will to live. 

Because you have failed spectacularly to live, your only recourse is to write.

There is nothing else within your immediate grasp that is worth anything except the lens in which you see the world.

Because you have to, or that inhibited venom will eat you inside out, as it has before.

Even if nobody hears. Even if it is just inscribing on a cold wall. Even if it is just a silent monologue. 
Come here.

Because you have to, to survive.

Because you're not of the same space, of the same reality, of the same praxis. You're only in this cauldron due to a dark turn in fortune. You're this century's accident.

Come here. Come find your soul in the depth of the subconscious, your solace in the forest of the forgotten, and your membership in the sanctuary of the wind.

Because you have to.

If not, you're better off dead.