coniunctio

side moans and sliding worrisome fears was what they bore, climbing modern digression. they whimper in the night, not growing, not being allowed to grow running rushing to and fro for a time until they decided to climb a great peak. i hurt myself with them. it hurts now, like i have been struck by a bow. i know i know. but it is being remedied through this speech here. i feel so sick. i have been warped enough wrapped in non-relaxation and focus on the wrong had burnt my tongue. and now? the remedy.  

Later.  I am wrached with love for my moonbeknightly mistle and her over chrones. I of love do try and lift them into the lights of sunbetide. They will they will they are and are but now there in the soil of it. they are diamond in dark soil enfolding their leafy flesh and beholden to the nutrients of a deep rest. they, their loaf and sunbeams flower in the low mosses and live lovingly and happily. i love love love them with all my hurting weeping healing heart. 

blind to the truth of eternity  believers in nothing will always fret over others feeling heaven  heavenly are the ones travelling the arteries of the globe  re-carving the old paths  made of dust torn in robes

in a laaarge cafe more like a gallery narrow and metallic i met a girl who planned to fly away the only way was to steal a capsule  and leave the planet she had to do it under the noses of the bureaucrats the warmongers and their male bosses because she was a girl and not only a girl but a prisoner of the system itself what they were keeping prisoner was her intelligence kept in this grand cafe full of metallurgy  utilising geomancy to place fear within the others but she could see right through it they kept her a prisoner there because they were scared she would free the others this was true she would do it but she also knew that the only way was to save herself first to hide as if asleep for a time and when they came looking for her  to use her gown of grace to evade the guard she would flit slowly often like a candle flame and with the help of the others underground she went undeterred by the ignorant bureaucrats  she cli...

The Silver Feather Which Was Placed In My Hand whats that weird feeling you get when you start to do something and then it all falls in and becomes meaningless? is that real? or am i just being shy? am i just giving into the oppressors who say my voice should not be heard? i think this is the case, but maybe right now, text is the best way to get my ideas out.  well, I’m actually doing ok in terms of myself and how i produce art, beauty, truth and meaning. but the capitalistic conventionalists say otherwise. they say i must produce in their way, structure my song in their way, behave and move my body in a way comfortable to them, demean my own presence in ‘their’ spaces by making myself smaller. but i say no. this is my art this is my work and i will not stay shut just because i didn’t attend their classes and lectures. i attend my own lectures. every. single. day. of. my. life. just because my education isn’t accredited by the sons and daughters of former slave masters and...

snakes and lizards hung from the red rooms of your walls i kept having to hide all the crystal balls orange and black fabric grew out of curtains and behind posters we all wanted to get closer and closer writhing,,, the dark green snakes were on the mossy carpet treaded by too many webbed feet they treaded in black wet leaves from the garden leaves that smelt quite sweet thin orange paint glanced with smokey perfumes inside some darkness and pinch of gloom "but you guys forgot the ocean too soon.." i wished that place was spaceship they saw it as i wish didn't see like such a spaz maybe this isn't alcatraz maybe im being too sad can't be that bad then when i met Vertivert, she told me a new story almost turned me inside out i heard the inside-outside shouts when she sang i saw both our glorys saw the glowing glistening forgeries fury the darkness was still damp saw the eyes glow, then fell off my ramp to something truer when- the dank w...