Maybe we should all shut up.

Maybe. Maybe its a crystal ship. Maybe its a typhoon with all the makings of a hermetic peace that is promised by those you can't trust. Maybe its a doubt that is founded, maybe its a genetic defect that enslaves one to the mercy of a transient belief that it is one's birthright to cater to such a thing. The times where you squirm at the thought of having to suck it up one more time, or even worse, not. It could be the best time or the most opportune time to graft that insecurity onto a solid groundless mass that will leave you on the precipice of nothing, and maybe that's the best part. To swim in that deep, black question may be the best thing this life affords you, but the choice of that can be hellacious within itself. Maybe that crystal ship is chock full of fuck hope and that's the good news. Lets watch writhing pain dock and hope to shit not to hope.

So you wonder how it happened. You want me to tell you, enlighten, acquiesce to your primal need to know and you believe me the one to do it. I regretfully inform you that I have retired from the initiative induced lay it on-er. There is help a plenty bursting at the proverbial seams, waiting in a self induced exile you have banished it to along with other, now foreign concepts and breath, like "outside", "kindness", relieving one's own burden by yoking up to another's. These are all past times to which would cure what's ailing you, however easier, shinier, faster is a much more suitable weapon of mass distraction and I understand but will not support. False advertise one more compliant and see how fast I run from you. Stagnation kills, oscillation ensures a lengthy and definitive shrug, ambulance will reinstate a right form with vigor like no other. I am not the one to do it, or assist, but I sure hope you get squared away.....your commercialized death is putting a damper on my breakfast.

It's an amazing feat when the thing outside comes into play, the thing that resides around and wants to go within, but that self defeating or possibly external force encapsulates this sentiment into a palpable, enigmatic energy that can transport the interchangeable into something of value on a higher plane. Welcome to life without expectations, degrees of spiritual mutilation and endless opportunities for moving forward in a real way. This is always here, this decision to make, this chance to make good on making the best out of what you have laying lament, that only you have. Incredible psychic feats being displayed by a cohesive unit of harmony, common sense and an acute awareness of one's surroundings. All of these encompass the answer you've been looking for, at best a solid direction in which to propel your intentions forward in a way that is satisfying to you and quite frankly, that's all that matters. Lesson? Stop seeking out others to fulfill your needs when you have all the elements for that peace within yourself. Get your shit together.

How you came to be so.........

All the times that integrity was playing a key role in my character, you know, building it, molding, shifting and shaping, yours just seem to be faltering and failing miserably. In no other posture than one of humility I say that with a force of a collective conscious stampede. Never knew that in this whole massive and immense time frame we had been given, that this is what one, (one being more specifically you)would do with it. Let it skate on the thinnest of ice until someone else felt empathetic to your contrived and supposed plight and make it essentially, better for you. Along with wiping your nose and ass, respectively, and giving you the obligatory pep talk. Why wouldn't one want to get better on their own accord, of course with direction from others, but not solely allowing a convalescent footnote to be added to every decision. That's you. Withering, dying, allowing, cheating and not living. I never expected more from you, however, I expected and maybe that was the problem.

There is a golden thread that was cast that I wasn't able to catch. Maybe I m late, maybe I didn't know, maybe it wasn't meant for me, just to see, just to peep it for a quantum moment and then abandon the notion. The notion that I know, I know that you don't want to know and there's nothing I can do to remedy the static stratosphere that has been put into motion from the not quite the beginning, but more unfortunately, rather recently. There are too many hushes, too many carefully thought out "next" steps. Those steps are always seemingly perpetrated by media suckling soldiers that serve in the worst state of devastation I can fathom in this world, or any other. That golden thread is a cast off, a throw away, a diversion for the awake to take a stab, uninterrupted immersion into a better chasm of conscious knowing and sharing in that with others that are like minded and have made their way off the grid, on the grid, in silence proper, in plain sight, breaking it off telepathically to the other one who knows. More than you know who knows. There's a sphere filled with all of the collective energy of the like minded spitting out connection threads and that's why I know you on another plain than this one that seems so artificial and small. I'll find you and always put the light on for you to find me. Make no mistake, I m in for the long haul, with you, you and you and NOT "you." It's not that long of a way to go, so keep trucking. I got needles for that golden thread and know exactly where to house it. Hold on not for dear life, but to awake to the one that sits right beyond you in form reach and go a little further to that astral one......that's where I am; I got you.

Quit Hiding.

There are few things that jazz me more than “penny proverbs”, and the like; slogans that people dished out on their own volition by way of passive aggressive delivery and snide burnt toast looks to accompany said dig. Now, I’m all for digs, however at the expense of wit, no ma’am. It went beyond the see a penny pick it up manusha, but to encapsulate what these fuckers really were getting at it was the prize. Far too often, normal everyday folk are looking to make it retail Christmas time in a way unbeknownst to the poor souls it ultimately affects, however, I have a meaning in store……(as if you didn’t know that.) Before we get into it, I hope I have cushioned you sufficiently for you to become and remain exposed for the next however it may take for you read this. Hunker down friend. The thing about self-righteous ginger is this, contrary to popular belief, said ranger’s birthday is in fact in the spring, that’s one. Two, this very holiday that Christians especially tend to hold near and dear find it the precise time to dole out douchbaggery in droves and assimilate in the nearest Mall and have at these helpless low self-esteem ridden kids to pump than more than full of unstable mental hygiene, but their own nads as well; moving onto Universal consciousness as we know it. Upon meeting someone, anyone, random elderly at grocery store, fellow nerd in line at some Comicon or what have you, one tends to ignore their first response, the one that guides you into the place you want to be and begs you out of the ones you choose anyway. People ignore this internal light more often than not for many reasons but the main and really the root of all the other ones is fear. Fear of the entire obvious pamphlet esque obligiatories but mostly, because if someone can really see into our soul and be the same there is no mystery into the drama we wish to create, hence making for a societal norm of a “boring life.” Why is this? We all know it, we certainly know we all do it and here’ some gravy, when one doesn’t participate in the exchange in the expected the way, the other person will literally flee before you. It will begin internally and then the excuse of why they have to go here or there will manifest; incredible to watch, sad to take in and empowering when it’s you causing the fleeing. Ignoring the thing that creates and breathes life into the things you want to do does the same job on a daily basis with everything else, there’s just no moxy behind it hence the motions seemingly turn into exactly that, motions; completely devoid of real flow and life force that is willing and waiting to be utilized as to attract universal positivity and or whatever opportunities for growth there may be. I used to run from this for the exact reasons or excuses rather that I am stating now. However, upon welcoming these unseen and dare I say mystical nuances, absolute magic happens along with making beauty an everyday occurrence as per a mind being opened till the point of uncomfortability, turned out again and now it’s on. I understand, you think I have went around the bend, and anything is a possibility, be that as it may, I have not only experience and examples, but evidence of our overall denial of all things intangible for the purpose of explaining why this world dominated denial takes place at all with my own flavor I have nipping at its heels tucked away…..but not too far. It starts at home: no you can’t wear that…yeah well, why? Suppose they laugh, suppose the neighbors foul you for letting your kid dress like an epileptic fireman ballerina going to the recycling center, then what? What necessarily does that equate to in the big picture? Your ego and the fear attached to it. It has felt as though it has taken me lifetimes to assess and make good on being myself, really myself, sans all innuendos that always want you to pay homage to them in this world that demands you be a certain way even if that way IS being different, there are niches for that as well. It comes down to what you and what the action you take exhibits as well one’s reactions to that action. More to come, but I don’t want to wear you out with a long winded spell about quantum psychic phenomenon that you redirect on the daily out of what this fuckface next to you may think. Stay golden and off the fence. -H

Part 2.

Waiting in the cold, on a platform within in a platform on high, for the next junk train coming down every tunnel; that same tunnel that brought the works that encapsulated a life that may or may have not been hers at some point, but most likely not. A time when a smooth shuffle was appreciated, even sought after, now a steady gate to keep up pace with you and yours may be all that’s necessary, we’ll see, won’t we? She always got shushed and mauled from the upper cloud of Argentinean fog that was her maker; this time was no different, however Shane looked more devout than she could ever remember, but that’s how it is with little boys and their Mothers, even when that little boy isn’t little or technically a man, young, but a man nonetheless. The Number 2 screeched to a low lulling halt and she shoved us on, rubbing her nose the way junk makes you do. Proper attention was paid by all male patrons as to be expected, even when she was in her dog days, she still had it. No denying the power that had my Dad falling out ted to take care of her…..in all of those ways, even the modest and decent ones, in spite of themselves. She was used to these kinds of displays, unhealthy as they were; it was the only pride she could cultivate for the 5’7 demented pile in front of her. Some would think it sad she supposed……not finishing on purpose; to no other’s understanding of the situation was she beholding to anyone. One of her scabs started to bleed as she picked nervously at it; she stared at the maternal vessel and wondered how it all went down like this, for so long, so normally. Once in a while it didn’t matter, but here in front of these people all wanting a visual piece, it mattered. Shane seemed to automatically go into Lance a Lot mode and began to exhibit symptoms of a son protecting his ailing Mother’s honor, problematic for him seeing how as that if ever, had never been in place. She on the other hand knew better. She made contact with the floor and became enthralled with the idea of different colored gum making a Rorschach of sorts all over the subway floor. The only approach to be taken in this situation was the one she assumed, less everything that way: attention, stares, shame, guilt and responsibility to the life the other she had chosen. She felt Shane burning into her in an almost kinetic rally to arms for their shared vessel that he would always know as “Mom” and she would always regret coming through that passage at all. She would later always be the reason for her writing at 4:30AM and beginning habits that she had previously put to rest but now they resurfaced in a feeble attempt to cope better with it than say…. heroin. The exhale is the hardest at that time of day you know, heavy pulsing beat of a heart that makes you want to sleep like normal people, however the experience won’t let you and with no outlet to forget, (as per your lover is sleeping so as to not parlay one’s sexual wants into reality, just you and the experience) these are the moments they claim you grow from and through, and maybe; too soon to tell isn’t it? Up the stairs into the wet shiny New York night can be exhilarating or the longest plank to be known, depending on where and what you are hailing from and heading to. In this case, the plank was a safe bet, the only one to be exact, they all knew it. She headed east on 2nd herding her spawn like McDonald’s soon to be vitals and tried to keep the puke where it sat and not where it wanted to express to, she did an alright job of it considering; better luck next time, yeah? A doorway can hold solace, anxiety and or a mirror of things that were or have already came to be, an experience that calls and wasn’t learned and so here we are again; junk is that way always. We were at the door, the one that presented the latter. She entered and gave us each a set of works and a look to boot along with the other shit we were about to give the same fate. As I gave Shane the look, he refused my mental plea and put his pussy on the back burner and I was left with a still torn and gaping one, admitting mine and he became my plus 1. The smell of burning everything made its way up my nose and I knew the rest would make its way up the rest of me with my spoon falling out. She was already there, Shane prepared and I became the wolf and my Grandma’s spirit sat with me and protected me in the lair. Belt off and so was I, wish it was Thursday of next year……sometimes all you have is the wish of future unbeknownst to you that may be something of validity if you believe in things like that…..or maybe it’s just a way to get through the unspeakable, either way it was a fucking Friday and there was no changing that.