ꔷＰＯＥＴＲＹꔷ

My mind is a metastasizing work of… …art or obsession perhaps; in infinite metamorphosis.
A ceaseless project with no known visionary.
A personified confusion, indecision, or Svengali design.
A subconscious contradictory or maniacal scrambling that unintentionally serves an unknown imperceivable "motive".
Can ANYTHING in this existence contend to the utmost satisfactory?
Feigning time and feinding terror, it will never be complete…

NOTHING EVER IS...

The beginning of the end paradox vortexed in Earth's cervix.
Karmatosed, chronologic circumventures where reality does not exist.

Spiritual enlightenment Synchronizing beauty with macabre psychosis.
Expired sofas beneath extinct isopods guiding a toxic hypnosis.

Epiphany conglomerates ambivalence in narcissistic masochism.
Where ApacoLimbo then copulates into self-succubus cannibalism.

Beauty rots to repulsion from Indulgence in admiration.
Swallowing rusted gutter shrubs feinding for mutual masturbation.
Milk, blood, and honey drip feathers and liquid silk together.
Cockroaches never die and jellyfishes are forever.

I've walked this Earth a thousand times before.
Enjoy the ride a thousand times more.

Sit back, relax, and watch your Show.
Death lures me to cosmic crystal cocoa.

Shelled on Plateau Sigma, whales stomping on Lego.
Conscience shadows eating myself until kill my ego.

Most would concur crossing the bombing range is crazy.
Faith in chaos, I must see what golden chocolate destiny awaits me.

Diamond scaled rattles with fang needled syringes poison my vein.
Viscous coagulation and burning blood but after death will be no pain.

Touché sacred serpent, for I saw you in a dream.
Satisfaction killed the cat, and your bite is justified it seems.

Destination: death, this final experience will be embraced.
I only hope my carbon footprint left on earth will be erased.

Forbidden knowledge holding spirit made of scales, this is the end.
Thank you for this toxic freedom. I will journey well my friend.

Celestial, universal, intergalactic fungus.

Divinely spreading life through space and time amongst us.

Kingdom of gods including mushrooms, molds, and yeasts.

Driving half of Earth's decomposition by breaking down what is deceased.

When dead organisms decay and rot, the molecules are scattered.

To then become the pieces of new recomposing matter.

Their life begins in clusters of microscopic spores.

They all begin dormant until they settle on moist dark floors.

Water wakes them up so they can communicate and join together.

Forming pathways like brain neurons the mycelium exists forever.

Fungal DNA will never die as they exist to learn new traits.

And until new genes are found, the mycelium just refuses to mate.

Unlike most organisms that are concerned only to pass on their genes.

Fungi only live to gain new traits to create new species never before seen.

When mycelium sense new genes they reach out grasping hands.

Exchanging DNA in a brain like knot of hyphael strands.

This hyphael knot is new genetic species that will fruit a spore bearing flower.

The mushrooms color, shape, and size controlled by some sentient conscious power.

After caps bloom and they build pressure, thousands of spores are projected around.

So, there are new genetic fungi species of every mushroom found.

Evolving and lying dormant so that their legacy never dies.

Across space through radiation, fungal spores are found to survive.

They hold evolution's entire record through out all of space and time.

The fungi communicate knowledge remaining consciously sublime.

So many different cities but they all feel the same.
Even all the streets and avenues share one monotonous name.

Constant cycled repetition again in new places.
The scene will never change, only the people and their faces.

Seeing it all, over and over in opposite directions.
Lost recollection of yourself; without mirrors there aren't reflections.

Plateaued, moving forward, yet still not getting anywhere.
Encountering extremities that cause a reaction are now rare.

Dull and bored from overdone experience making me numb to life.
Slicing flesh to watch it bleed I'm now longing for pain and strife.

Wishing for the usual inherent struggle and fight to survive.
The closer one comes to death, the more one feels alive.

So I walk the Earth with my thumb held high.
Waiting for the impossible to potentially blow my mind.

Intransigent lifestyle of riding in cars with strangers.
No more purpose in my existence outside facing fear and danger.

To be the criminal or the victim we attempt to make a choice.
Living beings of expression with no say yet having a voice.

Be a part of a puzzle just like other bricks in the wall.
Or be a puzzle piece by itself and lost from all.

Lonely is unlike anything and holds a certain bliss.
Solitary phobia is fearing oneself and I think its mankinds weakness.

Wandering the universe down highways and back roads.
The redundancy of each trip has me also becoming plateaued.

Like a vagabond tramping on a Spiritual endeavor.
If asked where I'm headed, I simply answer with "wherever".

Everyone questions my notion that I've not a thing I need to do.
Since riding in cars with strangers is putting soul in my shoe.