*in case you care not read but to listen —CLICK HERE. the mastering on this is loud in some parts so be warned by the flagrant effects.*
the stars that rest above me are of unbelievable magnitude.
they also sparkle with crystal crimson – blinding me by their rapture of shine and bliss.
the tokens found in my heart are daring to be inserted into a funk machine.
this dance might begin where my tears have left me stale.
perhaps, the tarot card, crystal ball, and Zion’s prayers, predicted this dread?
my unwillingness to play ahead and to saturate the options laid out beforehand, explains this drought.
i’m hot at the command of fluctuated and unreliable weather reports.
yet, the ghost of my ancestral heritage is awaking my hands to remove the stone.
to unveil the performance that has practiced, millennium after millennium.
i have been predestined to understand how these words will develop, my current state of affairs.
for such is sometimes, A ‘s.s.o.a’ – an acronym which means – Sad State of Affairs:
“it’s a sad state of affairs”. that is to say, a series of unfortunate events have taken place, all of which has led down, to the path of sadness.
be it: broken promises.
expectations which go undelivered.
lies being disguised as the truth.
all of these misfortunes have boiled up into a sad emotional burden.
and we want to rid it off like a bumpy itch.
like a fresh and absurd stain created cuz you drank coffee in the hurry for caffeine. (on your white threads, nonetheless)
what could be summarized rather briefly – has extended itself into a long, 6 paged letter.
sadness is then spoken in dissecting paragraphs with a nauseating prolix.
*le sigh*
i don’t like this.
it isn’t right.
damn.
*le sigh*
folks are often inconveniened at the expense of their labor. as it continues on – the emotional allowance and justification for such neglect sinks into desperate pleading.
why can’t ANY this change?
can it rearrange in our favor?
will someone at least care for us?
we don’t always care for ourselves because emotional anxiety can exile our self care routines.
sadness then turns around and asks the bold question – what’s the point?
many lines have been written to justify a love that is self-serving.
self-care is a charge we should take notice of.
however, who is willing to be sought?
when you hide from yourself // who will
seek to find you?
when associates have abandoned themselves into their own busy lives.
when strangers knock on the doors of unfamiliar houses.
when those closest to you seem so far away and your voice is too weak to call.
it does seem terrifying that we are all here alone in melody, but confused in this scattered song.
“What if all that is and all that was before
Was just a test to see if we’ll handle more?
What if the loss was gain and the gain was truly loss?
Happiness is freedom, a chain with a cost.
– It’s Not Over Yet, War And Treaty
I wrote a script called ASLEEP // ALARM earlier this year involving a dialogue between being awake or responding to the alarm.
waking up diligently to answer various objectives, is like ketchup on the most visible parts of your white linen.
however, some stains are not at all bothered by the poor defense of water with no soap or elbow grease.
we may need to scrub deeper than the surface.
there’s a war going on between who can be heard the most among the noise.
but everyone knows, the loudest one in the crowd.
they don’t go through the bother of camouflage or soft editing.
they’re usually rambunctious in sharing their passion and highly skilled at competitive laughing.
as it turns out, people would like to get to where they’re going without the hassle of unclear abbreviations.
how can any of this go anywhere without clear specifics?!
in my search to find clarity and meaning in a room full of emotional interplay.
i am aghast at the rumbling of this earthquake, which has shattered the foundation whole.
decisions and choices, i have yet to make.
what will be said about my fate?
the written VISIBLE word was foreign to my eyes.
my ears were overwhelmed with an abundance of music.
sticky strings of classical embroidered carols for the day.
but, darkened thick hallowed melodies of funk and rock guitars at night.
i was forewarned about the flagrant affairs of my recent decisions.
i found myself watering down the seeds planted in my dreams, while forging the present everyday moment in exchange for prolonged daydreaming.
still the pages are left unturned.
answers are still joined at the hip, which provides a hit that doesn’t quit.
when affairs are sour because of late expiration – we need not be afraid of signing off, on tears which are worth the stream release from our eyes.
when the veil is swiped away from the one in the box, mimicking authoritative oppression.
it becomes very clear like in the land of oz’ – that Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig Isaac Norman Henkle Emmannuel Ambroise Diggs (O.Z.P.I.N.H.E.A.D) pretended all along by the projected trickery of ✳️HYPE✳️.
he changed his form constantly therefore making illusion of the fact, that he was an ordinary man from Omaha, Nebraska – who had amazing technological gear!
writing until the pen runs N2 paradise clarity! (by uniform & random means) 