She presents the presence of presents.

The truth is we are gods and peasants, worshipped by misguided fools while worshipping still false idols. I like your haircut, your demeanor, and you my eloquence and charm, so we barter for these intangible traits with parts of our souls. We create a patchwork of colors that seem to us as bright, when we are really paupers in shabby patched cloaks.

Love or Addiction

The flicker of neon calls your name softly, greens and reds echoing through puddles in alleyways. Follow the voices, the songs and the sirens, close your eyes and let the sin pull you in.

Poor mode of transportation.

Lies like chained butterflies, shackling fantasy to propel you through reality. Inevitably the butterflies will die, and you will find yourself bound to the reins, stranded, and alone.

Go big.

My first online purchase: some boxers that say “Pirate”, purchased overseas, to be transported to the United States where they will then be smuggled into the country. I’m trying to think of what to buy next, but the only things to trump that would be new bodily organs or nuclear devices. Neither of which I have a pressing need for, but even so…

The current of the air.

Should I tell you my comedy, my tragedy? Should I tell you of the things which make me feel an actor, but which in only my actions am I such a participant? Should you throw your sins at the pastor, at the pages of your diary, into the open air? I think so. Ventilation is the only way to alleviate such contaminations in your vicinity. A great many things deserve to be spoken aloud, and even more need to be.

The dance and the curtain.

What if we’re all crazy people, subscribing to the same crazy ideas, concocting an alien view of the world we’ve lived with for so long that it no longer seems so?

All day and night, music,
a quiet, bright
reedsong. If it
fades, we fade.

-Rumi

I, Ching.

Change is the nature of the universe.

[I have a personal weakness for eastern philosophy.]

Selection.

If you have it, you can’t use it. Even when you have one, it’s never really yours. It is power. What is it?

A state of mind (II)

State your state of mind and I will see through your eyes, see the patterns in the chaos that you see as real, see the truths in the fiction that you believe. State your mind so I may follow you, through the forest, follow the bends, take the paths, trailing a ghost seen only with your eyes, a something that guides your every choice. State your mind, so I may hear the dulcet tones in the roar of your waves, hear the sounds of sirens in your thunder. State your mind so I may know what you are.

Through a haze and a darkness.

The tides of the world wax and wane, victories and tragedies like swells in the waves. And still the ideas flow, still the people laugh, still their time is the time, their lives are the life, relativity to rationalize their raison d`etre. Tell me your idea. Display for me your victories, and whisper me your lies. In you I see the wave, and in the wave I see your change. Your life is the world, through a ripple in a reflecting pool. And we are all the same.

A lesson in cryptography.

My life is a dime in a big yellow charity funnel at McDonalds.
My life is the purest white which never stays clean.
My life is the watch hands trying to escape.
My life is the river but not the water.
My life is the wind that never touches down.

The ideal velocity.

Progress lies not in enhancing what is, but in advancing toward what will be.

-Khalil Gibran