“Do you bury me when I’m gone\ Do you teach me while I’m here\ Just as soon as I belong, it’s time I disappear” (Metallica, “I Disappear”)

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“The days went by like paper in the wind. Everything changed, then changed again. It’s hard to find a friend” (Tom Petty, “To Find a Friend”)

the mirror in which life reflects me…

the mirror
in which
life reflects me
is extraordinarily
unfamiliar;
startled
i wake
and
startled
pass the mirror
and am reminded
of my form
in the dreamed present;
somehow trusted,
i say ‘i’
and consider
indicative of you
my perceptions
of a ‘you’,
reflections
in the nightmarishly
pleasurable
mirror
of these eyes
a 2-dimensional
world
extrapolated 3-dimensional
and given meaning
out of nauseatingly
unsettling habit
feelings
dreams
thoughts
images
arise
abide
decay
all of their own
momentum.

nothing is intoxicating
if you look at it coldly,
clearly enough.

post-9/11

it’s hard enough
to live
mindful
of personal decay
and eventual death
in this academic
stress culture
bubble
without
having
to worry about
awakening
to the agony
of sarin
smallpox
cyanide
or anthrax
in the air
or water,
walking down the street
waking up
is horrifyingly
unknowable
and uncontrollable
enough,
i fear that
i have not
the wherewithal
to do
mentally straining
school work
and still
keep the
mental knots
of self
untied enough
to handle
sudden death.

you have to be old…

you have to be old
to understand
the growing pains
of all all the time,
you have to decay
to understand
arising and abiding,
still all nothing
matters to only me
the thoughts
coming naturally brighter
than the sun
or more narcotic
softer violence
obsession with
mental layers
wandering
through mental worlds
to soften
the sudden violence
of the momentary
meaninglessness.

greenish white leaves…

greenish white leaves
of white sky
soft purple
glowing
quiet and clear
there sits a sound
and a smell
of the past
catching up
and about to decay away
born
arisen
now decay
of the worry
it won’t happen
the observation
that it always does
eyes closed
to regretful depression
how unsatisfactory
are the efforts
ever
for our minds
are cinemas
atop nothing
atop mystic remembrance
startled again
by an unsatisfactory
impermanence;
i have written
these words before
and stare again
at the blue sky.