the alien fruit...

I could slice them all day.

A MANIFESTO:

Here is a public declaration of a new perspective for consideration.

At the closing of the Piscean age, we are processing information more rapidly than ever before in history.

Our awareness is vital to our advancements and progression as a universal consciousness.

We have been patronized by society while serving our survival sentences.

This is because we have been told we are free when we really are not, in many cases of what the word entails.
The word, "free", has thirty-six definitions on dictionary.com.

My patience for the desensitization of my human brothers and sisters has worn.

The time is now, the world leader repetitively states and hypnotizes the world.

Now is the time; i sing in my lowest tone, for I sense the rapid communication of energies and attempt to factor in every entity and experience.

corpus alienum:

Across the Room

"I am talking from a distance, from across the room..."

She fades

She blurs

sideways 

gestures

music taking over

and in

out or below
She is

She spins

She drills

partakes in thrills

and chimes, lost time

for years, no dates, no nines

endeavors, she whistles

her spine

sends shivers

and guides

detached 

and drenched

remedy

clenched, clutched

leading,

She is sideways pulled under

the bubbles

She sings

apart from sand

cadence

three voices 

heard clear

in this cadence

three voices

it dawned like the dusk

this dunce epiphany embroidering

FX processing every second

i am out there

baby blue and black

sedated,

in so many places

dizzy to the orchestra

i found Eurydice last night

She is gone with the wind now

Fortitruder, Stitch I and II

Death Spliced Gardens of Paradise

A census of hallucinations;

A paranormal connection.

The night before the full moon,

but where to be found, was Eden?

Seemingly outside herself in

a distorted glass head reflection,

She is a bow-tie wearing apparition

in autosaved formats of disconnected communication;

In this tirade, desensitized blockade of wires,

Eyes lost in the sky, the stars seem to change colors;

I will thank her for my pointy limbs,

and be sure to send her a mother's day card.