bun dem

echoes fade into the background
the air aflame with salient chaos
entropy rising and defining
each moment.

no thing contains the motive
only synapses firing and
a votive disturbed, a sacrifice
for the modern age.

obtuse concepts define escape
even though there is no such grace
only the trace of the past left
in trails on mortality.

smoke rising to the ceiling,
and so proceeds the healing,
it only ends when the searing
begins to show signs of feeling.

trying to forget that memories
are temporary, such ephemera
resonating evermore,
eroding away at the shore.

simply put, a roadmap remains
leading the way to forgotten veins,
scar tissue that i wish you didn't see
but i can't escape what defines me


traces of remnants remain
striking matches on the tangible
ineffable passing of experiential
moment to moment, fading into
the air from cauterized explicatons
to feel is to remember, or even
to lapse and forget the meaning
drifting away in the corner of
an ashtray on fire, such words
would never be heard if they
weren't etched into permanent form
never fading from the canvas.

my very own prison, my symptom,
ashes to the wind, the future won't begin
until they settle down on my skin



taking strides through the ether
i catch myself breathing methodically
in circles and geometric fashion
explicating proofs of why i would rather
escape in the moment,
quod erat demonstrandum,
the point still remains hidden behind
a veil of ignorance and nociceptive bliss
blistering up to reveal itself to this
expectant stream of consciousness,
forever in fast forward, nothing seems real
but the pain that the world conceals
behind the mirror of introspection
correction: introversion, the connection
to the physical is 100 milimeters
burning down until something gives
or until placed where it shall breathe
meaning into a mind unknowing,
the nerves will scream momentarily
then lapse into utter ecstasy
when the moment ceases, a brand new lease is
brought about to play, commanding
the cortex to shut down and reboot
the machine needs to remember the truth.

i won't forget the message i wrote
or perhaps etched into my mortal form,
to this day it reverberates to mind
any time i find myself lost in thoughts
i look back to reflect on the past
and see nothing but an empty canvas
whereas the reminder remains stuck
in my vision when i truly use my sight;
oh how it felt the first time,
how i deluded myself to think
that it was healing to sink
into the depths of that madness,
telling myself never again thereafter,
i guess i lied to myself, so it goes
whereupon a repeat of the feelings
it seems that it bears repeating
that reality is quick to cycle,
never lapsing in predictable nature
another hole in the memory, another
stroke down the canvas, my commandments,
another reminder, another scar in time
another stitch in my mind to define
the five, now ten, then eleven points
i allowed myself to anoint
upon my very flesh, one last caress
and then the moment is gone,
never again is what i said, but
who can know that until they're dead?