SKM
Expand, constrict.
Eyes shot open.
Warmth spreads,
Fades with everything.
Sweetly drift to oblivion.
SKM
There’s a dance for all the stars,
In my stairwell.
The moon joins,
Filling the hole of emcee.
Glinting off the walls,
I can feel their warmth.
Bathed in their light,
Creeping my body closer.
Denial in the form of physical resistance:
Impossible.
I follow in their giant footsteps,
Imitating perfection,
With the awkward touch of humanity.
Something pulls me towards that,
Which seems to push me away.
SKM
Nature metaphors to mask responsibility,
To free the illusive from tangible.
Emotions at higher frequencies,
To penetrate,
The defense of apathy.
MM
Shock!
Up and awake.
Move left,
Now,
to the front of the class.
You look shocked?
This is your time,
Now tell us what you see!
MM
Here we go now,
Up and down,
Here and then.
But its all a wall,
Painted on the scenery.
We’re holdin on,
To card tricks and ice cubes,
Slippin farther down,
into that nightsky cave.
But it’s okay now!
Cause we’re riding the waves,
Up on top for a while.
We’ll float on, they say.
MM
Speed it up,
Slown it down,down,odwn
Down.
You don’t know what I’ve seen out there.
People in the streets,
Full of madness!
No more order to lock people away from each other.
Humanity, running rampantly through restrictions.
Chaos.
What to do?
Melancholy,
Invading my eardrums.
Infecting my blood flow,
Paralysis.
Eyes widen with lucid craziness,
Forest rush with oceans close behind,
Under the shadow of mountains,
The scenery all rushing into my eyes,
All at once.
Time to walk.
Forward,
And yet around.
Kept on walking,
But it sure seems like,
A circle.
Getting dragged along,
Cant stop,
Slow down,
Nothin.
Wind pushes my hair out of view,
And I start to see,
And drown out my own complaints,
The whole thing.
MM
Mindfuck.
Memory feels like morphine.
Nod.
Nod.
Urban camoflauge,
Blend in.
Big cities don’t hold too much promise,
Of stasis.
Keeps on movng,
growing.
Moves you along with it,
Towards some dark center,
Where things go to die.
The furnace for the network.
Trading up, to look down.
We’re living in a Orson Scott Card novel.