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"Ride It"

life’s like riding an infinite elevator. everyday’s another level. Higher and higher. Better and better. Get off the floor. end of the day, get back on, sleep as it lifts. get off, get on the level, see that it’s better and better everyday. i’m not even trying to mess with the linear model of days and weeks and time. and i just had to throw away the parabola sine wave theory of what goes up must come down back to the base. fuck that. it’s a straight line up. like riding an elevator. felt the need to write it down, just in case i forget. Late night philosophy sess. 

wait a while

but what if i make it

what if they love me

what if i’m the one? what if i hit? 

what if it all comes true and happens? 

it’ll never come true or happen. 

but what if that negativity seals my fate. 

better play it safe and believe that it is true now. 

and i am all that now.  

and i already have all that now. 

and it’s all okay now. 

Now, …isn’t that easy? 

Go to sleep now. 

Don’t search for food. 

don’t think about hours of sleep you’ll have. 

and how lame my relationships are

and how much i am wasting my time here

with this dull attempt 

this tired wrist

these tired eyes. 

no risk. 

just routinization. 

there’s a ten dollar word, that i can’t spell. 

freestyle rap. get the gears going. 

write rap lyrics like math equations on the train. 

stay up late and write. 

right about sarah, maybe she’ll read this 

and tell everyone about me. 

my deepest fears. 

everything that i’ve been hiding. 

now we’re moving into fantasy. 

what if i had a big secret. 

what if it was all real 

and a hole in me. 

what if you have that exact same thing. 

the emptyness of it all is it? 

this thing call life?

a charade

a sham 

worth moving in

with and throughout. 

like labeling the void. 

touch me, a boy. 

fill me with joy 

leave me to myself. 

experience faith. 

reach out

like a homelessman takes his coin

his fortune 

his throne 

his hot machine shower

his genetic perfection 

real calculation 

we’ll see who you are when we see how you die. 

heart attack? 

nirvana bliss dmt explosion?

head cut off in the village on a stump

with a crude axe

by a man with a bag over his eyes. 

wooden teeth. 

hair on fire?

barely alive. 

when reality gets real real. 

that kid almost burned alive in highschool. 

that’s his life. 

this is karma? 


higher concepts being attributed to real knifes of lives

real fire real pain real death

what does that mean. real? 

meaning, when real actually starts to believe 

in itself. real all to real, for the human all to human. 

war versus separated concepts. 

bored of the boring

of the hamster wheel self. 

but real is too real. 

like your embarassment. 

nothing to do. no right way to spell. 

or momentum to give you. 

i wish i can change your presence. 

don’t be cute. keep writing. 

when life becomes real 

it’s a nightmare 

and then you have it

now you’ve done it

is this real? 

do you dare ask? 

it’s either the mundane or the real terrible,

this is your claim. 

you are a liar. 

a foolish tacticion. 

it doesn’t matter if you have gotten it wrong all along. 


there’s a big surprise at the end of the game?

oh, you…(sigh)

just another belief. 

but what if?

those beliefs make it real? 

when then what would you believe? 

I would believe that i believe the best belief for me to believe. 

which is, already, what i believe. 

so there, now that 

that’s settled… 

what the fuck is even this

okay i will 

i will stay up all night

with no pant bottoms or underwear on 

in bed 

on my stomach with half an earphone in . 

i didn’t finish what i started listening to, 

i never do. 

think of you. 

and then think of another you. 

and then i think of the window into nowhere land

for a million strangers to read me

for 1 stranger to get bored at another text. 

for me to be sick of this stupid fucking website

and this stupid fucking computer

and my stupid fucking job

and the stupid fucking frequency 

that i resonate. 

it’s my fault. 

i made the choice a long time ago to be here. 

i take out the headphone. 

i see my delusions. 

but, oh how delusions keep us going forever 

since the start. 

and how they will continue

to run

like a program that won

a freight train of now.

Feel that, that

is existence. It’s vulnerable

and can be gone in an instance, folly .

ear wax drips from my ear(s). 

break me off

just waiting for life to break me off

life to break me off some pussy

to break me off the good weed

the good money

the new guitar

the expensive mattress

the revelation of a lifetime. 

The clear mind total peace. 

The woman that wants me 

and wants to see me laugh. 

waiting to die. 

there’s no such thing

as any of this. 

Do what you do. That’s who you are. 

Stop trying. 

Just do what you do

break yourself off 





(Source: ketzele)



keeping the repetitions of nowhere

hemmorhoids on my ass

left close inner butt cheek to be exact. 

that’s rough. 

ruff to sit

rugh to remain inconsistent 

or try something new 

you can ask me why i am listening to myself 

or watching old videos of myself on facebook, …and i’d say

well because i have a mythos 

a feel 

an art

we all do 

it’s garbage. 

but necessary, 

Now…..time to be grateful 

change your vibe your frequency

you have a responsibility to 

admit your flaw of being 

of being human all too human. 

now thirst. 

and wake 

and hate. but don’t let it become your fate. 

have this archtype of the mother in your mind

she sits behind you at work

the archtype of the forlorn lover

the id

wanting to be with older women

chomping a swisher sweet

freud frued  fraud

this is a good time to sample myself 

to double back and hear myself 

moan climax

universe when in doubt 

catholisizes itself 

i dont even know what that means

it beheads itself in some sort of ancient 

praying mantis tradition 


there’s no telling what she might 

do to involve herself with her own 


she may bloom 

she may be blunt

she may burn you too

or starve 

or cut 

and kill 

be a fetus 

be born 

wide eyes cry 



give herself plastic surgery 

but we’re to see it as amazement and beauty 

wonderful triglycerides 

skygliding wonders behind and beyond reason 

known as novelty  

for not. but from the porch of 



lapping melting from her pelvic bone dream imagination machine 

an encountenance with her countess 

is like 

pushing your fingers through all of my single 

fleshy plastic eye 

breathing be born 

giving ways away to when i rub them 


as if to pray and see

my third eye imprint shadow

white light 

cone and rod

something science can explain 

show me that hidden secret that i knew 

had to feel real so soon as me

the hemmorhoid popped . 

my head exploding to explain why

novelty is worth all of this shit. 

because reality is damning up the river 

fucking with itself constantly 

for to be 

is to be forgotten 

is to be dead. 

so she keeps fucking with my head 

at office happy hour

because i would be asking 

what am i supposed to say here? 

we are in a building 

there is lots of noise


at d and d 

because it’s been a long day 

and you can read my face good because you 

are female. 

there we go again 



questioning it all (some things really)

god forbid i’m not helpful 

or am lame 

tame, ashamed. 

or even worse un-tame 



full and feeling 

no matter my race 


sex class 


sexual preference. 

it’s all so exhausting 



to use the word away 



fitting in the now 

why did we start?

ashamed of my being. 

or my being lame

a lame duck 

a lame silly billy

a lame little goose

what’s my motive and purpose as a man? 

oh wait, i don’t identify with that 

because it’s never ending 

never achieving 

oh yes the infinite. 


recovery. rest. relax. 





peace. and again. 

something goes there. 

something comes here. 

something lurks. 

something turns. 

something called timing. feeling. 

is this a good time? was i at work? 

oh yes. 


do i have to look at you? 

can i care?

this is a good time to write for me. 

what is your purpose as a man again? 

to procreate? 

to make lots of money 

to safely put it on and away 

on you and away 

to quip useful tropes 

firey zings 

ko blows. 

to provide and drive 

but have shit insurance 

to be a dog behind their backs 

to be simple

a simple man infanticide 

infantilized? words? i can’t dig my way back and or 

out of it. 

oh yes, the social creature. 

am i a socialized creature still? 

how close are we getting there and going? 

What’s your position as a man. 

is it to question and philosophize? 

what’s your purpose as a woman. 




machine gun happenstance

oh didnt you know 

the curves and the curls and the 

wait, let me hold you back 

but don’t you know. 


i hope not. 

but let’s just wait and see. 

it’s like that, the people that are not here

but that know people like you …

and they say you’re this and that 

and you’re like no 

i kinda just fell into this 

and then when you say that to 

or think that rather, to people 

like them….if you can call them, “them”… 

well it’s the same. 


(but before we move on, it’s the same in that…eh, well

what’s so evident. and as if you had a choice in the road and 

your wants. those people in your circle, they are looking forward to that.

and like yourself, you are looking forward to the oyster of your life.)


now the money gap. all of them 

give them all of that 

to all of them there 

and it will fill up the stuff they need

that you already have an excessive amount of. 


no? that’s fine, time and death. 

evolution is a silly word and concept denoting time and connoting patience if we project the human form on the observing nothing. the om vacuum that we come from. don’t do that. don’t worry about it. sit in the the self righteousness that keeps you here. your anger and fear will keep you whole. whatever it is to be pushed through. whatever’s worth the birth… of being. 

and when you take psychedelic drugs like molly and the ego diminishes 

you realize that you’re being watched and everything’s monitored. 

and you will be pinched. but then again something gathers back and well who cares. i give the ego that. the self is here to let go and release. even in the face of truth, it pours itself another drink. 

going through that circle of truth and not remembering to laugh at it. 

so love and “spiritual” practices which you’re familiar with, they already say this matters not, in a good way. so you’re free from evil secret government conspiracy and cops kicking in your door and ISIS cutting your head. the head that was never yours. good. what next? tea? something is born? to shit and fart? what next? Be here. Krshna tells Arjuna to fight in the Bhagavad Gita because, well what else will we do. submit this. trust…forget. be caught and stuck in the royal thick of you and your sillyness. good. there we are. Goodbye.



rippingthe road

look for nothing 

search for no one 

hear no other word

but communicate


hesitate though all is kairos

simplicity and chanting synchronicity

i unleash myself to write

perfectly right on time 

filler words

show no image 

be blank in the brain 

from instruction and rule and reason 

put it in the breath

breathe and focus 

focus on the breath 

be anchored, chant. 

all of these rules and gimmicks. 

life, the rule and gimmick. 


and relentless

the ball is hoped to be bounced your way

it rarely does right?

it’s never enough. 

And when it does 

something terrible comes a’balancing 

something wicked comes to challenge thee

and have you recount the fact that you are 


and from a vacuum. 

Some energy 

delving deep into that fractal 

i am unafraid to travel with the dimension of math 

and word from letter

all the same all the same

the artificial grass 

screensaver image 

even there it’s infinity 





the information age 


with genetics and secrets and ritual 

and sundance 

and nazca lines

and protocols 

and keeping the fabric of tensions flow 

keeping the repetitions of nowhere 


keeping the repetitions of now here, 

here and only here. 

now. deep , and deeper

deep, and deep forever 



it’s “real” in “parens”


real to whom? 

tome and tomb of self 

real to the self and only to the self 

the only witness is witness to the self 

so who is to be disproved or to say 

it isn’t 

it wasn’t 

it’s fake and fanciful or phantasmic 

writing code for my life 

for my future

it’s what it is 

i already know. 

i’ve set it all up fancifully 


the epic 

the odyssey 

the complete 

the fortune 

the healthy balance of yin and yang 

an inspired chemist 

an intrepid survivalist 

and functioning future 

a whole-ality 

my realm and harm. 

my healing heart 

my home. 

my house.