Fuzzy Alexander

Audrey likes igloos and the Ocean as she shimmers
finds immediate beauty in cognitive dissonance
she remains utterly feral and gives us the shivers
under the midnight sun she will soon dance.

Her life is a grand enchantment of sere tales,
constellation watching on a hot Saturday night
thermogliding from the fuzzy alpine kittentails
favorite wildflowers end up in a peace pipe.

Researching knowledge and keeper of the scrolls
hums that make angels a less terrifying protector
perilous cliff-tops swaying above the dark souls
likely to be eaten by a spider named Alexander.

Behind Proximal Doors

 What would you do different behind closed doors

they are our them and we are their them they

old movies have the answers download now

they are them self who you fear them to be

the veil over your eyes is thick and sweet

if you knew everyone was watching now

what if your everyone isn’t that many

you are never completely all alone

secrets form proximity and all see

society is unbalanced with us.

Perifial Perceptive Existence

Urban cloud chasers chasing and climbing their transparent relative reality
people pay more attention to the lives of they on t.v. than those they hate
men are programmed to use women for sex and like whores they utilise men for money
worshiping a god of impoverished sacrifice and subconsciously striving to emulate
blatantly avoid the truth so they can keep blindly living your facebook fantasy
the pseudo-profundity of a mass produced artificial emotion of substantial equivalence
biomorphic geemosapian clones among us that are programmed with news not really
always hedging their bets with the continuous next bigger better deal first date
like wanting to get rid of your elbow but needing to keep the hand to be wavy
relinquishing the future by caring more about what they wear and how they rate
the old regime is morphing into a new world order of aetherspehreical mind gravy.

Well dressed and battered and have forgotten how to kiss a her
ostracised forcibly from the reality of those around the aether
there’s not many around to party with or who doesn’t want me dead
where did all the people go in which to speak with intelligently
afraid that what might be said may hurt their agenda that’s hidden
everyone is watching and those who are close by keep a safe distance
unfinished business everywhere and there is little positive motivation
when analysed objectively i only exist partially and a bit peripherally
this is my trauma working itself out from within inside your unhead
conceive and produce disingenuous information in one form or another
please be a placebo for my malady and i’ll be your emotional blender.

Some people are nice and others fucking suck so which one do you often resist
either way everyone is standoffish once they get close enough to a real being
two more people are needed just to make one and once again begin to really exist
listen intently until understand something you can be verbally be disagreeing
invite them to parties at the last minute to tell yourself you tried and persist
avoid at all costs being introduced with reluctance and something of condesendance
when what you read before you walks into a room everyone suddenly has another list
responding to everything before thinking brings a high level of mis-comprehending
from the imponderable to the irrational cries of urgency are now met with a fist
is everyone else being mostly wrong all the time even when they are logicalizing
which romantic tragedy are you making yourself a part of now that you must enlist.

Do you:
see morphic fields of emotional echoes in an atmosphere of uncertain transubstantiation
tell others only part of the story and leave the secret part you planned yourself out
often verbally cut with snide remarks and retreat from what was once was common ground
make people ask for the same thing over and over again and again and again all day
like to see pleading for something decided is theirs anyway just to enjoy seeing them beg
point out everything that is wrong and never seem to get around to the right desire

Would you:
take a burn victim to the beach on a hot sunny day one day after the gasoline fire
ask a rape victim out on a date with the blood and cum still dripping down her leg
go fishing with friend and when they are not looking make all the fishes swim away
negatively say no to everything first and then mindlessly ponderously loudly expound
condescend to people even though you haven’t even a clue or any real emotional clout
go spiral gliding with me into the vortex of a creatively repriseful tribulation.

i practice writing backwards with my left hand and regularly with the right
i never speak to strangers until spoken to first and never in the night
i rarely smile and when it happens they are forced and fleeting from sight
i am not living and superficially died although sometimes wonder if i might
i don’t like big crowds unless there is loud music, cleavage and strobes of light
i know you’re temporary and that’s why my senses are saying to offer little resistance
i will never love again because the capacity to do so have long since perished
i never know who to trust so i trust no one and that seems to be generally cherished
i will not pursue you in any form and most likely will run away and try to perish
i want my brain to to turn off or explode but she always seems to try being bearish
i am not comfortable being one-on-one or in small or large groups of the garish.

Negative bias infects all forms of communication and it’s easy to detect
giving preformed opinions about life before knowing the full complete story
nobody now knows each other any more and not many really want the neglect
everything has to be done slightly different than what works orginoptimally
thousands of connections and 1 friend at a time while searching for respect
only attend parties that are full of dark strangers offering passive resistance
lost experiences that never happened and nobody to share with the glory
any time i do anything with anyone it always has to be done by their way
it’s not much fun doing everything with ghosts who never get tired of gory
a leader forced to follow people always hedging their bets on yesterday
where can i find anyone who wants to play and take a cerebral inventory.

Please stop asking me how i’m doing today because the answer is always the same
when they ask you’ll be tempted to tell them the truth that makes them go away
the kindness of strange is just about the only kind of kindness that ever came
they like to see me climb just so they can enjoy helping me fall day after day
you can count on me to let your false expectations down with only you to blame
fun would be nice if you can get it but settle for the absence of pain resistance
returning home from a trip and nobody realises that you’ve returned or were away
drop in long enough to find out what going on and make sure it does just the same
subconsciously incapable of trusting anyone including those who deserve to stay
don’t tell me things will be okay because that was heard flushed down the drain
eating raw garlic one clove at a time and warping reality with the defame game.

Hurry up and wait while being precisely criticised but never thoroughly analysed
you think you are in control but are really not aware of how you actually survive
the odds are against us and the deck is stacked by a pretend friend who’s demised
they who were invited to the table changed the game is now staring at your back
life has been passing by while sitting somewhere quietly and sort writing about it
hugging is like holding a stripped naked tree full of dreams about bark subsistence
not being there when you are needed and instead being a passive aggressive placebo
can you spew any more jingoistic blathering or simply another kind of sweet bullshit
all habits are emotionally driven and programmed by our experiential environments
it would be nice to die in someone’s arms someday and hopefully it’s with a friend
love is something we lose and once trust is lost it is lost forever down the grinder

my dreams become nightmares whey they begin to include anything resembling her
the cobwebs of my mind are laced with poison memories she left behind to send
your experiential trauma doesn’t fit very well with mine and my experiments
the forgiveness you are seeking can only be fulfilled with a justice permit
stand there and wave and give bad advice and never get involved or get past go
making something out of what is not by creating moments of cognitive dissonance
things in equilibrium are the most efficient with unnecessary tweaks are aborted
being single and alone is something that has already been accepted as a fact
not part of any group or family or friends or tribe that’s living or organised
open the doors of perceptive pleasure centres and let the reprogramming revive
strong memories are fake or painful and you wonder why we’re all anti-socialised.

For me writing a poem is like singing a song and once it’s fully written it’s sung
moments of cerebral drifting crash like a wave of hand scribing upon a moleskin sheet
running red ink across the paper mostly with my left hand and sometimes with the wrong
waking up and once again fooling myself into a dream state of wakeful partial sleep
they work for most everyone obviously but were meant for someone like me only strong
it’s easy to find a way to explain away that which you don’t want to believe with insistence
my writing is not meant to be perfectly crafted clusters of a representative memory
when i read words of hope and inspiration i can’t help but grin and nod horizontally
minds extend beyond brains and in a collective in which we are all plugged into partially
chance combined with coincidence fuels the free ride of deference and selective memory
consciousness emanates in an aethersphere of perceptual dimensions and we are # 13.

Pharmacide: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/43344