all i want
is to
hold you
tight,
coursing the
unknown
ahead of us,
love
creating
heaven on earth.

my life so tragic

nobody loving me

living lonely

working more than writing

it should be the other way

i should be writing more than working

i should be loved by everyone

my life a comedy

I.

Those bosons did nothing for me
they filled me with useless understanding
they
destroyed my illusion of God,
God damn Bosons.

II.

i want to be
a cosmic entity,
not so much like a greek god
but
more like
a nirvanaed soul,
at one with 11 dimensions.

It’ll take a while
to understand what this reality really is.

i.

So deep
in my own skin
the outside
loses its existance.

All that matters is
getting it all out
before i die.

ii.

maybe living outward
is supposed to be the goal.

I live
for LOVE,
an inward
and
outward
expression.

I.

Cameron and Wes get me in a conversation
about death
after having drinks at happy hour at don the beachcomber:

“You know nothing exists after death,
so why not accept it?”

“That’s nihilism. Where’s da money lebowski?” I say.

He laughs. “Yeah. I guess it is nihilism.”

“I don’t know what exists after death.
But given the choice in believing in something
or nothing,
I choose something.
It makes me feel better.”

“But knowing that there is nothing when you’re dead
should make you want to live with passion.” Wes says.

“Yeah you got to live with passion.” Cameron says.

“But if it all doesn’t mean shit, then what the hell does anything matter?”

“Exactly. So that should make you want to live life to the fullest.”

“Carpe diem.” I say. “If you guys are at my funeral, i probably died in some crazy accident or someone blew my brains out…”

Cameron gets defensive, “So you’re saying you’re going to outlive us unless some crazy accident happens to you?”

“No, I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“Well that’s what it sounded like.”

“I mean that i feel like i’m going out in some crazy way. Maybe a precision missile strike.”

II.

I was down the street
chilling at Ricko’s place
drinking Jim Beam,
watching the Lakers.

We got to talking about life and death,
and he said,

“If i happen to live to be about 65-70, i’m gonna just start mainlining heroin. Fuck it.”

i.

external reality
bliss beyond comprehension
magnified paradigm
a weather system exists as much as you or I
each day is the future
the forward movement through time is natural
space travel is only limited by the imagination
we are to slowly master the universe and harness it
the illusion is wild

ii.

driving through the early morning desert highway
thick white clouds own the mountain tops;

a scene from 12th century America Palm Springs:
on an early Tuesday morning, the Morongon Tribe witnessed
the clouds making love to the Earth and sky
enveloping the mountain tops with white cloud
against pure blue
and so they held a celebration
for the mating of Earth and sky
and i drove down the highway looking at it.

I dreamt of you
and it was
a beautiful dream
of lust and lost love.

And when i awoke
in self-imposed
buddhaesque
loneliness
i had to make sure
it was just
a nightmare
and not
a memory
and it took me a minute
for my heartbeat to slow
from the adrenaline
flow
of
haunted sex and love
of longing
for so long
the length of time so long
it loses its meaning
like a word said too long
long
has lost it’s meaning long ago.

Long is a mystical Chinese Kung Fu master.

All I ever wanted
was to wring
a drop of love out
of this dried out
rag of a planet,

this desolate place
left to
evolve
or destroy itself,
decided to destroy itself.

nature speaks
psychedelically
through
psylocybin
and thc

strange full moon
extra-large
behind a cloud
acting upon me the same
as the ocean

so powerful
the wolf
cries

and i can’t stop looking at it
looking at me
through my apartment window.

what are the odds
that there would be life on this planet
and that we would
have a moon necessary for proper
gestation of earths oceans into us,
sentient beings.

those with the roundest faces
look most
like the moon
when in distress.