I wonder how all our worlds look from the inside. “Where do old birds go to die? Why don’t dead ones fall on us like stones from the sky?” I’m quite amazed as I sit by the riverside just beyond that mossy gilded gate lying on a naked shoulder by the water marching Memory before my unfitting seawater eyes. I can’t near describe the image as reflected rhetorically, in ripples of perfection, submerging- they splash all over me! Holy submergent non-entity. (repeats x4) Made visible I’m broken down to efflorescent light beams my being shrunk to nothing, effortlessly- consumed, Subsumed by Anokhi spirits I am obligated to split my mind apart, sense the choices in between thought and action, acting powers like those still existing behind that scripted set of scenes. It’s probably impossible once you’ve been exposed to just let go and allow the things you now know to return, we must unlearn and remember ‘dragon lines’ and constellations might be more than fitted disorder in the sky or fabricated by the Mind, or as Dreamt up by Morpheus who was eager for a trap to capture blissful rapture of the ancient onces. An artifice- curious to be. Bemused by itself. And what if all you’ve ever known, you didn’t? And the whole world that you’ve felt couldn’t be any less unreal. Cause in this moment now, I’m quite positive I never had existed.

I am one who says that seasonal cycles are a myth Although some scenes may seem to repeat themselves, trust me this self’s not okay with it… And though this world is definitely ending I can’t help but feel for it and all that we must leave. All is where it should be. together in departure times again. I am one who says that seasonal cycles are a myth we must live with, and though scenes may repeat themselves this self is okay with it… Though this world has definitely ended, I can help it’s decomposition all is far from where I’d like to be. Together again, consent not to be a single being. (Bridge) Don’t mistake the garden for our fated destiny. Gylany will rise up from its roots blossoming rain, like Aquarius. Not living in the past but presently in future time. We’ll escape from this context, this toxic paradigm. Dreaming of ourselves charismatically engaged in suicide. Glob, why do I love? How it feels to die forever part. Dreaming, dreaming of ourselves. Dreaming, of our-selves. charismatically engaged. Dreaming of ourselves charismatically engaged in suicide. Glob, why do I love how it feels to die. Forever part of something else. Forever part of someone else. Neti. Neti. Neti Neti. Ami oyeta na, ami aita na. Neti Neti. Ami aita na, ami oyeta na. Neti Neti. Ami oyeta na, ami aita na. Hakua Oya-Yansa. Hakua Oya-Yansa. Hakua Oya-Yansa. Hakua Oya-Yansa.

One of my earliest memories I watched a woman walking proud down the dunes and into the sea. I’ve been wondering what it says about me. How such simple erasure could be a way of inviting-in peace. Oh how I ache to be flooded with relief. Little did I know that my peers weren’t so drawn to drowning. There was a time in my life when I felt less then alive, Enraptured like a storyteller I started talking to the stars. as if the distance between us could condense, my body, in their light. Could collapsing narratives be the way a void’s a-glimmering as we dive down again to what shows us in our unspeakable depths? And I got used, to sending invitations to the devil, splintering again to help him in his need. Attracted to his impossibility; surrendering to secure a love from anyone would have meant the world to me. I could only stop measuring my- self by what I lost or missed. Riding these oscillating waves of absences. I used to dream of serenity. I used to dream of serendipity. I used to/ dream. I used you. I used to. I used to dream of masquerading creatures on a beach. I used to dream of conditional me. I used to dream of invisibility. could also be that was all I’d ever known. I was stuck at the crossroads between the imaginary & the real. Now I’ve become the feeling of feeling. (Back then, like I promised) Was I always expecting nothing?

There was a wolf I used to run from. Could never make it to the door in time for my safety to be assured. Clearly he’s still here, he is my surround. He is my surround. Apparently he still haunts my rhymes always making me repeat myself. Or was I the one to disappear into the wood? Does it make me more or less human? In spite of the fang marks on my wrists; In spite of the fang marks on my wrists. In dream, the scent of madness stirs a fearful mind to action. Fawn legs tremble in anticipation of all I cannot outrun. And what if I were raised by wolves? My life-line moves along, moves the ridge of a cornea. Feeling-eyes twitch according to mountainous meanings. In the dark of dream who made me literate? So I could smell, wait I mean, read, the scripts of sandcastles carved by maternal grandparents. Dragging their knees through the muck. In mudflats, and in my- imagination. To recognize what can’t be seen by light, or in your tracking reasons; and all that could ever come from it was that I was ‘Pattern Doubt.’ “It would be good to break, to take another way.” A collision beyond mind, it’s the binds of confluence to find pleasure in the tethers on our wrists. To the planetary pact of paths our ancestors walk. Here we Are. Here we Are, and maybe seeing ain’t the half of it. Our words for it will never make enough sense, their wake will world the moments we will remember years from now. Why must we compare all that’s good to humanity? Are we the joys of our history made conscious? Trust that you’re becoming all the more human as we carry on that promise. What if I were raised by wolves? There is only no-one to worship- What if I were raised by wolves? Dead gods and dead masters. What if I were raised by wolves? What if I were raised by wolves? There is only no-one to worship- Dead gods and dead masters. What if I were raised by wolves? What if I were raised by wolves? What if I were raised by wolves? What if I were raised by wolves?

Everybody wears their hunger in their haunt. You can see it in the eyes. How’s the saying go - like recognizes like? Spellbound and broken enchanted by our shades. of glamour what’re we to make? of what’s living in these troubled times? Everybody, every body gather round bear witness if you can. The woods whisper, stay with the trouble Let the fires do the work. dancing in the smoke, we’re falling in again. Everybody bears the pain What I wouldn’t give, What I wouldn’t give to make it all end. Chorus: Are we the serpent’s snout or tail? Substrate to visions in Arjuna’s mind. the Devourer. When 7 years is a quarter of your life how could you know anything otherwise? “There is wisdom in the daring There is wisdom in the wound.” Perennial fight with the mask that possesses you. There’s a parasite with purpose that we can’t deny, Are we feed to the Devourer? What I wouldn’t give to keep alive. What I would not give. What I would not give to keep alive. Are we the serpent’s snout or tail? Substrate to visions in Arjuna’s mind. the Devourer. What I would not release to keep myself alive. What I wouldn’t give to help you survive. Where would I be? Where would I be? Devour devour Devourer. What I wouldn’t give to keep alive. Devour devour What I wouldn’t give to help you survive. Devour What I wouldn’t give to keep myself alive. Devour devour What I wouldn’t give to help you survive. Devour What I wouldn’t give, what I wouldn’t give to keep alive.

Evocating the interface Playfully performing for the Lila’s own sake I dress in traps archetypically transforming- into past selves. I’m Set, I’m Ra, Ishtar. Ma’at, Isis, Oannes water-walker, Woland Wotan. Eurydice and Orpheus. Eurydice and Orpheus Eurydice and Orpheus Eurydice and Orpheus. Tripping on myself Alone but never lonely My voice is all that is necessary to bifurcate an identity crisis What is this? tattooed upon my iris? like Nazca lines glittering in my visions What magic makes this song inspiring you to sing along? We’ll expand and we’ll contract Until bark and flesh blend This niche context for the unlimited freedom I process I, I, I don’t have to try to be anything other then what I am The Sun, our Moon, Gylany and all the sands beneath Hyannis Entrenched upon the shore as tidal waves circle all around us Entrenched upon the shore as tidal waves circle all around us Entrenched upon the shore as tidal waves circle all around us Entrenched upon the shore as tidal waves circle all around us As tidal waves encircle us As tidal waves encircle us As tidal waves encircle us As tidal waves encircle us. And finally understanding the underground As we are destined.

Times not flowing It’s the Mind that’s moving. The ever-present Tilting Point suggests to you it’s all untrue Cause deep inside of yourself There is no one else. Times not flowing It’s the Mind that’s moving. The ever-present Tilting Point suggests to you it’s all untrue Cause deep inside of yourself Is everyone else. Following the breath in & out in & out, in & out becoming creation in & out, in & out recognizing itself. in & out imagine meaning imagine meaning imaging meaning. Imagine meaning within the sadness fall into your apathy and then through it into the Deep. How’s it that a status could be more real then the news? And since when did you all stop Contemplating death feeling it was such a horribly claustrophobic caustic thing to do? And why is it that we now can’t talk about religion spend, save or waste time? And when we so much as look at each other it’s as if every interaction was politicized? We talk about our devising as if we’re intelligent pretend a battery’s death is more significant then our Great-great-great-great- great-great—great-grandchildren’s certain demise. But it’s okay let your feelings out I can’t contemplate how thankful I am, for friends telling me that speaking out and becoming your story is kinda fundamental to shouting with the world cuz that’s what it’s there for to be recharged, recklessly ignited often burnt to the ground. As healing can’t come without breaking down.

It’s in the way the glory of Gloom takes all in eerie light, as inbound fog arrives, like a pall. A dirge for Day winds arising on united front; our decay brings warmth out of season Don’t ever believe (don’t ever believe) you need to wait for things to get worse before you decide to join the Walkaways. Living deicide that harsh division in the sky a Bone-ache and a tear in the veil suggest a storms approach. We’re lucky in we can see the signs. Can’t know it, can’t know it. (can’t know it, can’t know it). so we learn to love and live with it. But all the more still, we watch out for what’s coming around the bend- Rainfalls as hard as hail. Thunderheads or other explosions without an explanation it makes the roof shake so. White lightning It’s terrific How it makes it all look so absurd. It’s disturbing all the trauma waiting in our futures still to happen yet breaking thru the veil. White lightning I’m scared to admit what it makes of all I’ve done. Humbles and humiliates often without cause still pressures my body from afar the ways it hits, then caresses, affects that take down a hundred years of history as dismembered limb. What branches of brain I have grown or still keep intact. It takes all I have- to carry the calm before the storm To carry the calm before the storm to carry the calm before the storm. White lightning It’s striking All you know shifts in a moment. It’s overpowering recalls exactly what you don’t want to think. White lightning. I consider all these hands wrought without my meaning to- the ways in which I’ve been harmed. And what little influence I really have, most of the time I feel hardly significant at all. It’s gotten me up - It’s got me up in arms now for a future we enable ourselves to see-e-e. Its certain, mystery-e-e emboldens us. Eludes, while liberating us vanquishes what we once were all the while building trust through the e-e-emergent all the while doing what we can to keep each other safe and knowing That to be but a dream. White lightning It’s violent It’s naturally charming It’s overwhelming It’s beautiful Out of this world. To carry the calm before the storm, do nothing but breathe in petrichor. Do nothing but breathe Let all the tears bleed with the rains. breathe petrichor To carry the calm before the storm To carry the calm before the storm Do nothing but breathe in petrichor. It’s beautiful out of this world White lightning