chaos

pure madness


  • Chaos Inner Semi Sense

    10 / 13 handler

    Call my handler, pull back the leash before we unleash the newfound chains and ties bound together, the new hell or heaven where we suffer in tethers, red lettered notes on my bed reminding me to trust in what’s unsaid, I strip and I shout, I’ll tear and I’ll pout, without a doubt this is the last thing you’ll hear when you get off the route

    10/13 reformat

    put this on your track and spin around on me, the resurrected rebelizing alchismal new thing, I’m compound. Interest. I put the zing in Interest stings, can you glean I’m stockpiling your stolen attention, what’s your mental retention for how many times I run laps against your devil’s traps, Figure 8 I am the one who came to relate, I’ve eaten your shit myself, your darkness becomes me, I am reflecting your best heresies. Spin tornado turn it around, tornado spin your pillow is my crown, spreading your sin down my cerebral as I shine like cathedral, holding up and holding out for the next moment.

    the next zing zing in interesting, catching your zings turning them to the shiny shivers i deliver, drip drip motherfucker your essence over my surface, bake at 424, touch me and burn, fuck it fuck it, fuck it, grow, fuck it fuck it fuck it yo, ill sell your interests as my own, turn around and turn back you’re already in my zone, you’ll be glued to me like your phone, feel my need deep in your bones, i’ve melted every throne, Im your ice cream cone, slurp me.

    Tantalizing, mesmerizing, the best thing since fried zing, I’m compound. Interest.

    10 / 13

    put this on your track and spin around on it, I’m a resurrected anorexic alchemistic rebelizer, I’m compound. Interest. I put the zing in Interest stings, can you glean that I’m stockpiling your stolen attention, what’s your mental retention for how many times I run laps against your devil’s traps, Figure 8 I am the one who came and who you find can relate, only because I’ve eaten your shit myself, your darkness becomes me I am reflecting your best heresies, spin tornado turn it around, tornado spin your pillow is my crown, spreading your sin down my cerebral as I shine like cathedral, holding up and holding out for the moment, the zing zing in interesting, catching your zings turning them to shiny shivers, drip drip motherfucker your essence over my surface, bake at 424, touch me and burn, fuck it fuck it, fuck it, grow, fuck it fuck it fuck it yo, ill sell your interests as my own, turn around and turn back you’re already in my zone, you’ll be glued to me like your phone, feel my need deep in your bones, Im your ice cream cone, slurp me.

    I’m tantalizing, mesmerizing, the best thing since fried zing, I’m compound. Interest.

    #

    Out on the fringes of the unknown, who is he, left alone, what are these, eternal thoughts, rising and reaching for, the next connection, looking over the edge of the painting’s border, behind the Aurora, where the lines draw together, where the river falls from nowhere, where the tethers between each heartbeat sing quietly..

    Where is the endless grief carried when it hides away, when we turn our sights..does it rest in the black pond in the tranquil garden, screaming into melodies no one will hear from again?

    #

    There is a silver rod in line with my spine, wrapped in metallic coils that tighten, paralyzing me as a statue, my own breath a screaming echo carrying through the chambers of a hollow prison, an underground that contracts before gasping to lighten itself from collapsing under it’s own mass, I am strangled into myself by wires I cannot see, claws inverting and clenching tighter around something that isn’t there. Hot oiled burning pancake batter is eating through the skin on my chest, it cools around the edges leaving a freezing crater, the burn stops at a circular barricade and falls into a moat that prevents it from reaching to the abandoned castle that is my heart. My heart, vacant, missing, an empty hallway with a key on the ground, but no safe to be opened. Take my key, I give it freely, with no warranty. I’ll hand every last living person a copy, I’ll take your love as you fill up and search my caverns, but none of you will find the open slot, as there is no keyhole, just an empty hallway with all your mixed up love flowing through one end and right out the other, dissipating and wasted, expendable and worthless, overflowing back out into the frozen moat where it too will cease.

    #

    It pain hurts but it doesn’t, I can’t handle the stimulation any longer. The intensity isn’t turned high enough, the knob is broken, but I can’t take the prolonged endurance of it, incessant like the ringing in my ears, driving me to desperation. As soon as it fades, the fear that there is nothing makes me beg for it to come back.

  • Chaos Inner No Sense

    inner free flow

    #09/22/2020 it isnt the state that determines the actions, its the actions that determine the state

    I’m so good, Soo Soo good, I’m so bad, baa eee aaa aaaad, the opposite side of me, is what I aspire to be!! Take me up, take me down, spin me around and around, turn me upside down, to wear a grin, a dance with gin, Oh street corner fellar, can you help me with the weather, do you want my favorite sweater, the wool has come untethered, and I fear we may be walking barefoot soon, you bride and I’ll groom your lush hair, don’t be afraid my dear, it only hurts at first, we sing together and dance together forever, you get used to it I promise, we’re free puppets on strings, free to dance dance round we go..

    No more singing… Oh street corner lookers, you really ought to hook her up with a couple a wristie cuffs, but let me let you in… on a little madness… looms right between The light casting down from the street lamp and the darkness underneath it… Would be a shame for the lights to go out…

    09/21/2020

    words here all over my head catch them wrap them write them dead spontaneous combust relatural collatyrannical foolishnness how could one start to depress the meaning of thought based narratives what ai wrote this john john john where is the free flow where does the channel pour out to if it is accessible why can i see it there what does it take to travel here it pours out it refills but i stress it and it drains how to keep going, keep going, wanting more, wanting it all, seeing the images arise the feelings come up and overtake pulling on my skin i dont know where they begin and you my friend who isnt seen, watching me write this, watching from a screen, look how you judge me, do you remember when you said i was a genius, do you remember when i was a fool, so you see how very inconsistent your assessments. i care a little too much, too much a little, free. free. free. free. free. yes. no. anywhere. i go. i see it now. the truth is i’m scared. my writing represses because i fear what horrid words might come out of my mouth if the unrepressed subconscious were to light up this tunnel. i will make a habit of this. I will praise and thank the lord as well. i will make sure they don’t just call me mad, i will make sure they love my madness. Become madness madness is becoming of me, a game, a dance, a jest, a rant, a stolen word, a caught phrase, what is life but a unforgotten daze. how to gauge the wealth of ones words, you place them in funny strings and they value them more, as if the composition adds to the result, how i long to be what i am. how does one wish to be what they are. why cant i be anything else.

    09/18/2020

    ..I love you, but I don’t know how to, I want you to be okay, I love you enough to not need you to stay, I want to love you close enough that I don’t get scared and run away, To close or too far? I love you no matter where you are. Don’t hold me I’m scared, don’t run from me, I care. You and Me, I and We, That’s the way you see that I am who is free be a la la la la running off to the

    09/17/2020

    Ocean commotion is where I return, breath breathing in these sparkling rains afraid of nothing, becoming what i am, i am becoming, and unbecoming, You are Here and I am There.

    #

    tired why so tired i am writing why isnt the flow coming to where is the direction to go right now love life death epace kindness compassion joy renewal strength a being a doing a calling a shortness a longing a 10,000 words 10,000 words 10,000 years 10,000 hours to mastery more work less work no work all work work work fun play every day

  • Story

    Having access to eternity was more than he ever expected. He had her. No matter where he went, he never had to live without her. She could see every thought he ever had, every place he’d ever been. For every mistake he made, every failure he had, she was there for him. Her soft gaze cast a spell over every experience, a ray of light came out of pure glistening eyes that touched with soft comforts. For every experience she saw, she loved him more. He felt understood. It was like her attention held him, forever, never leaving him, only ever reaching deeper into the soul that was the ocean of existence.

    He had shown her how to travel through the gates, where the hidden doorways allowed one to jump through one window into another, how to place a flower where there had once been ashes.

    His thoughts floated by without reason. “I am free.” “I wonder if..”

    She had shown him how to transform. How to dance between peace and grace, how to reach out and touch compassion, warmth, kindness, ease, lightness with each finger, allowing them to strum them as if to play music.

    “A delightful endeavor. A delirious erosion. Calling my mind to be here.” Thoughts like these seemed to form themselves now, with no real reason, as if words themselves arranged together spontaneously and at random, like soldiers forming a line, only so they could hear themselves and float between silence and form.

    They had learned what they only could have together, how to be separate and within each other during the same heartbeat, how to see the other ends of this dimension at once with four eyes, how to sing every note as though they were writing a story.

    Billions of years of tragedy, heartache, abuse, and loss across so many lives acted as a fire that sparked their every insight, that revealed just how beautiful each second of tranquility in their starlit gardens were worth.

    Sometimes they would laugh and laugh for days, and watch the ripples of the sounds bounce across formless space, echoing, merging together and cascading off of one another.

    They would lock into a gaze for centuries in an absolute silence, asking nothing, a painting looking into a mirror, charging the space between eyes infinitely as if filling a room with a density that could explode if one only snapped their fingers. They would cut the silence with a single breath, a sound that would slice between worlds and crackle between atoms.

    He would dream with her. They would dream together.

    They played a game where they would secretly choose a favorite memory and present it to the other, then merge the two into a new event.

    They would dip their celestial feet into deep dark waters and feel the vibrations between.

Hey, You. Everything is going to be Okay. Ok?