coffee, toke, cigarette.
and strange weird sounds.
an eclipse of nonsense degrading into its birth.
interplay of dimensions to create new worlds to become.
what is reality?
big deal.
then when we come across ourselves wandering pathless paths everyone wondering which came first and which way is backwards. it must be something.

o' to be in iceland in the spring!
hear the birdies sing.
such happiness it can bring along with such sorrow.

the clown still working on typing not p0em. the fool. lost on a sea of wisdom. not much caring if so.
waves crashing everywhere on the rocks below.
don't jump!
you'll wish you hadn't in midair. a moment of realization before your head is cracking open to reveal butterflies.

it's quite a trick to perform. give it a kiss like a toad into a prince. walk away.
zombie zebras doing the locomotion, yeah.
absolute forgiveness.

truth for some is something to obey.
truth for us is something to be.
it is impossible to state there is no truth without proclaiming truth. mixed up turned around thing we love so well. the clown unsure whether he approves.
stand up and be counted.

outlining the stepping stones for success. it's all true but assumes we want success on their terms. what kinda success is that to become as hardhearted and brutal as they are?
our success is our failure to succeed in their world.

it's rigged in their favor of course. who's to tell us different who is not one of them looking for excuses?
everything is hunky dory peachy keen.
they are everywhere watching all the time.

no matter what they may tell us we stand our ground to do nothing. we are on strike until their ruthless regime is taken down never to be seen again ever.
we are allowed to dream.

simplistic devices set to erase all memory of themselves among us. we forget and they take over. genius. a liquid sky is performed for the crowd to sing along as they like to do not to face their fears and tears.

the popular folk do not enjoy our jokes made at their expensive expense onstage at the burning theater where they sit where everyone might see them otherwise enjoy the show.
our names are not written in the book of life.
we are heroes without a cause, without applause. could it be only in our own minds?

into the actuality of the correct formulation of the event of the season. death squads roam the streets giving away flowers. the literal logic of it is astounding. wait, does this make sense? a question we must always ask ourselves to begin our journey.

the fat black cat being a pest.
we are ghosts of ourselves dreaming alright.
when we go.
when we die.
are we ready or not here we come.

the echo chamber recedes into darkness without our knowing what the fuck. is this what offends you? crawling toward the light again. it's funny how simple things like that are misplaced.

afraid to open the message for fear of more bad fucking news from the front facing east toward rebirth waiting for something to happen. light up that dwarf. uncertain dreams when the lights go out. it comes for us reaching the 7th level trying to understand not too much longer.

pizza and root beer.
something doesn't seem quite right. learning the vocabulary of certain philosophical schools of thought one considers oneself wise. too much to do and not wanting to do any of it. light another cigarette.

we exceed our limit of patience. frustration. it's all turned inside out backwards. watching it unfold on tv sitting comfortably doing nothing. when has it become enough?

exaggerations of hope. feeling it. caricature rape of the embodied soul. a monopoly game. appetite. no one needs to explain, it is absorbed without knowing from birth to death. it is it itself.

the clown having trouble thinking straight as he is supposed to with mind going around around as it will without stopping for him to catch his breath.
it needs to be someone, why not him? let the others laugh relieved it's not themselves so they might succeed in this world.

there is no room for error in the kingdom of god. everything measured exactly as it is fitting before the lord that punishes misdeeds for all eternity. we refuse to identify ourselves with that regime others rejoice for it to come.
but we do not wish to make these decisions we are forced to make but just wanna be left alone in our peace.

he goes out for supplies.
he comes home and naps.

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
pistachios.
uneasy feeling. :][:
he ignores it and eats a sausage. sausage good.

pick it up.
now is not the time for despair or anything like it.
sure the world sucks, now tell us something new.
a meadow of daisies in the forest of dreams where a monster is rumored to live.
what's to be ashamed of?
walking along a pathless path smoking a bowl of nature's best. a bag of mushrooms to nibble on.
naked unafraid.
making $$$ like crazy.
join the fun.
everybody's a success - even the losers.
everybody's clear.
it's all downhill everyway on easy street where the fabulous people meet.
a standing ovation at the burning theater.
the girls will be boys and the boys will be girls.
every secret is being revealed and nothing is really that much of a surprise.
sitting in an outdoor cafe in the sun. espresso and a cigarette. along comes some ooh-la-la to fancy for a moment or three. and the doves are cooing. lovers are wooing. everyone's booing the mime. what a wonderful time to feel to be young and free.

13 o'clock and all is well the watchers inform us on our personal monitors.
everyone sighs with easy contentment going about attending to whatever business they might wish.
almost everyone.

and by the sea we watch the waves come in and go out until we decide to get hot dogs from the robot vendor on the boardwalk as a group of children go running by laughing.
we find ourselves laughing along too. what a beautiful day this has turned out to be, rain in the morning with sun in the afternoon.
people flying kites.
we remember back when there were those who told us this would be impossible. where are they now? we hope they are happy.
the clown eating licorice sighs.
yes, they are happy, without ever admitting it. happy being despondent together. happiness to them is illusion. no one is really happy. they have been brainwashed into thinking so. they laugh at the idea of happiness.
_________

so now sitting at the counter at the diner continuing not p0em thinking about how bow cow gizzle flippers. and the red snake slithering across dimensional reflex machines igniting the mother matrix devices devised to start the party where everyone has a real good time blast off no one asking why.

an experience experiencing itself as proof of its own existence for those who aren't sure about it yet. let's pretend we know better than that whether we do or not.

generations after generations people populating the earth when there's too many already. but we have a solution to that we employ upon them without their knowledge but with their whole hearted consent. everything will be alright.

simple is as simple does. ordering eggs, toast, and bacon. cheesy love songs on the jukebox. there's no end in sight. suckers born every minute.

feeling true eternal love in the moment. love without object. love for love itself. funny how that happens. funny how so much of everything happens. who's laughing now?

the clown's head imploding into a singularity of 0. the middle of everything that is or might be. we imagine ourselves in dreamy delusions. we imagine ourselves feeding ducks and geese and swans on a pond behind the house by the garden gate. on one side is desire, on the other side is fear. we walk between to enter. but it's not as easy as that otherwise everybody'd be trampling through.

there's secrets to everything. secrets we make up for ourselves to deceive anyone happening by into believing there is nothing to it. they walk on by heads held high on their way to the promised land.

we want everything. we got nothing. this is what others wish to believe about us if they think about us at all. we are squat to them as they are to us. whatever.

it's all in our mind what is and what is not. petulant petunias growing in our hair styled in the latest fashion of opposition. our given mission to expose the underbelly of the project as we can but to no use. it's too late by now and long ago. the project cannot be stopped. everybody's in on it knowingly or not. so there. how about that?

the project is good and just. it is evil and cruel. it is all that it needs to be to get the job done. the job is itself. the object of the project is the project. to continue is its mission.

but seriously, the clown returns from getting supplies. sitting at the counter wondering where and/or when things begin and end. there is always before beginning and after ending. but that idea doesn't make $$$ for anyone so it is dismissed as nonsense.

an iced mocha. the 1st of the season. yummy. waiting for the van to be unloaded so he can come home. while the bad guys pillage the world, he waits.