“One mustn’t fret, but instead breathe. Fall into the void of life. Smile, hands up. Embrace the ride..”

“One must ground daily with the percussion of the past performing. One must be here, find it wherever you are..”

∆ Neural Alchemist | Self-mythologist ∆

“Bug on a wall, doe eyed, pressed to a window, steamed and well, comfortable..
I handled the last storm.
I’ve been meeting people who look like me again. I must admit I’m timid and shy to approach..”
The fire is live in me
I see the flames as they shift into you
One more time
The diver of my feelings
The hair on my arms dance for you
We remember
A moon cycle glanced your way
You made promises you kept
How I resent you for that
Too slick to trust
A shadow snake
Still I dance through the teeth of fate
I beg the God with bloodshot eyes
Could I strike with the soil?
Can I rewrite my sky?
Forgive me now, or let me go
Forgive me—flesh and stone
Tryna find my way alone
Truth don’t come but confesses
Still learning how to break
Behind tints possessive
What will linger when I’m gone
If time erases everything
Are some things meant to stay
I wanna leave an imprint
You’d try to forget me
But where will you ever find a ghost as haunting?
Stitched beneath your skin
A whisper in the bones
Hold my love when I go
Sing him tunes of eternity when I go
Heal him tightly when I go
Bless him while rising when I go
Sow him with peace when I go
Promise new lovers who dance till full
Does it exist I wouldn’t know
What feels real is felt low I am told
Hold my love when I go
I’ve perished
They told me so
A few times
I’m tongue tied
A thing in the undercurrent
A hole in one
When I woke I was thirsty
An insatiable existence
I know I’ll be punished
I know it’s a sin
The river split all too soon
I was made of moon
So I spared the connection and tuned the loving beast
Who chips it’s nails to soften the beatings
Smokey listeners
Reaching for the shallow limbs of black
They sink and wail to discover life
And so I remain, printed and somewhat flaky
Together, forested in fictions
I lie to myself when I stretch out of the hopeful comforts
I’m picked as bark
The dog days are quite holy; haunting
The body was muddy and dug out of void
Being, holy as well
Peer through
Identify me, then leave me to be, leave me alone
As I grow feral to the moans of cicadasÂ
I will touch the golden skies in faith
The ones I indulge in and tell stories about