Every pearl is a lynx, is a girl.

Intelligere mentis.

The brilliance in us lay within the ability to assess. Yet, beyond the form of reason, beyond the evaluation of composition
lay that independent of syntactical contextualization,
the ever present paradoxical nature in the dissolving of definite lines,
Reflected in thine eyes as a manipulatory assessment of a world
too immensely incomprehensible for these infinitesimal minds.

Coffee House Blues

My heart is a mad and fluttering thing which both contradicts all semblance of rationality and sparks all idea in the form of intuition-imagination. Humans wander and buy, eat and fade and each and every one lives their lives through a sense of narration. Though perhaps I'm simply applying my perspective to man as a whole. How must mine differ from this woman sitting next to me, living vicariously through a mass market paperback mistaking sexual passion for love? Pause as I satiate the senses with food and drink. So soon and I'll be longing again for such things. If I had the choice I'd remove every ounce of desire from my being, I'd never long for temporary satisfaction but would rather find pleasure in each surrounding nuance in this infinite reality. How can one distinguish the emotions?

Dubstep

I've been listening to a good deal of the British music genre, dubstep, as of late. I think that it is capable of being quite intelligent and moving and it appeals to my sensibilities. Moreover, I love dancing to it. You can truly lose yourself within the deep rhythmic drops.

the heavy weight of Being

In this strange phenomenon called life, looking out through these biological eyes I see the world filled with a desperate and disinterested race to associate. This thing, that man, this organization, that ideal. Yet it is all in the hopes of fulfilling a maddening desire to rid the self of suffering. What am I in relation to God and does she share the place of privilege which I feel I've gained? I am built of contrivances and am tired of this sickening game. The recognition of this is what sends the man I love to a world far, far away. He cries to me, that this love is a crime against the existence of all things for to prefer one over another is an attachment to be cleansed. Yet here I am, I've followed him as best as I know how and I've always known that one day he'd flee, not out of a lack of love but for the pursuit of another ideal, enlightened Being.

The Wizard

Here I lie, bound within the darkness of a swiftly ending night, a lightening world unveiled with the sun as my guide, weaving enlightened rays about these tired eyes.

And there he stands, adorned in the coming day, slight frame bent amongst torn battlefields and shattered armaments. The unfolding and writings recalling the most ancient of days etched within the iris of his eyes.

He’s comprised of the prettiest lips and oh, the shapeliest of thighs, forged, I’m sure, in the bursting depths of exploding starlight,
And each moment I set my eyes upon his shifting light, my spirit aligns,
each part takes to the sky, and I know,

That here I lie, forever held within the bindings of a fading world with that wizard as my guide, weaving enchanted dreams about these waking eyes.

Antiqua

Now antiquated times of forsaken gods fade within the blink of discovery. A distant ideology exchanged for a quickness in number and machine. Are these findings within perceiver or reality? We are but drifting contingencies floating about the shattered surface of continued uncertainty. For is there more or less of what seems? (That driving question always calling me). Or are we lost within the threads of our own construct, deceit?