I got off the plane and charged straight through the fields of dried lava and abandoned plastics. I found tunnels and whispers of ancestors in the cracks and hollows.
Sunday, darling, sunday. In this moment I am a breath. I am a breath caught in the ocean of breaths. A simple yet profound tide that beats upon the existent
I can’t care forever. My heart would dry up. I can’t give up on caring. My heart would become calloused, barren, unfit to love anything but my own self
Whirlwind. The self as the vessel of all chaos. The gods as tribal and mystic dancers. Ecstatic and mad. Spiraling in a dervish frenzy upon the soil of man. Dashing
red wheels. black castles. the watchful eyes of spies. turning. constantly turning. shifting from one dimension to the next. their scope is insurmountable and all encompassing. a hospital bed. some
Hello World. Dark stone reporting. Beaming to y’all from San Francisco…again. Fighting bad guys. Protecting the streets. Giving alms to the poor. Blessed drives. Coastal moments. 3 vans. 13 friends.
Ch-ch-changes. Turn and face the strain. Go with the flow. I am just a passing wave. A sea turtle out at sea. Drifting from one micro-cosim of blessing to the
there we were. cold in skin yet warm in the sunlight half-hair long and dreaded and explosive uncertain as to what societal standards each strand should cater to yet
Sitting in the MSP airport. Eating a scone. Lost in the land of $4 candy bars. Weird cafe music is playing over the loud speakers, interspersed with public service announcements.
Today I woke from a waking dream. Footsteps towards the gateway between this realm and the other. I emerged into a palace of beige and maroons. curtains latticed and saintlike.