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Reduced By Words

 

Every­thing.
Crawl­ing in trees.
Every ounce.
Break­ing our seams.
Sweat­ing fury spread­ing sto­ries reach­ing deep to enter­tain and let you look inside our brain.
Reach­ing deep some­times too far. But you. You see a clown. With painted face and thoughts bizarre. With abstract moves so dis­tant walk­ing los­ing life delu­sional obtuse and using quite con­fus­ing lost and alco­hol abus­ing. You. Per­ceive a soul thats bro­ken scared and run­ning dreams are frozen hid­ing from soci­ety rely­ing on avoid­ing sheep. But see. We chase a path for rea­son reach­ing through cre­ation sea­son seen as self­ish self-absorbed strug­gling through our cir­cus tour. See. Self­ish oppo­site intro­spect con­glom­er­ate awake exposed and profit-less to make your hearts just stop a bit. Make your hearts cre­ate a smile make you think escape awhile live in moments change your dial embrace alive for­get denial.
We only mean to dive into.
Our worlds to give them back to you.
Alone we walk.
A dif­fer­ent way.
So we can all unite some­day.
Every­thing.
Crawl­ing in trees.
Every ounce.
Break­ing our seams.
We all will die.
But for some they will sing.
When we leave.
We give you everything.

3.21.13

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Gold and dia­monds.
Rid­dled silent.
Chaos cir­cling.
Whit­tled vio­lence.
Anger made with bro­ken hands carved so deep its woken man.
Man the beast.
The ani­mal.
Man finds feast.
Crush­ing weak.
Actions made with instinct bones for­get­ting he is not alone.
Alone and exposed.
Brain on toes.
Still find­ing ways.
To chase a rose.

3.21.13

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Rid­ing high on desert sands a tem­po­rary social grant it fades away so quickly see the world it knocks you to your knees.
The sky.
Still lit a color sea it holds you close and sets you free defy­ing only fear and love to leave you liv­ing like a dove.
Alone.
The cho­sen.
Leak­ing let­ters.
Hum­ble notion lightly spo­ken every word con­dones emo­tion.
Still cloud eyes and hands held high the limbs them­selves are not sure why.
A gift so small.
A fall.
A lift.
Thank­ful the unknown exist.
Seems it must live some­where up cause rea­son just was dropped on us.
Rea­son being.
Every­thing.
Catch­ing wings.
Anointed kings.

3.21.13

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Dream genies and rav­en­ous ravens crav­ing sav­ing thoughts and shar­ing star­ing hard and walk­ing lazy blaz­ing fields to start anew a few just two are won­der­ing blink­ing think­ing crazy. Sink­ing hazy. Fiend cre­ators obsessed with notions of bril­liance exposed and per­sis­tent alone but resis­tant in search of com­mit­ment to. Enlight­ened behav­ior and infi­nite wis­dom amidst fright­ened sav­iors and injus­tice systems.

3.21.13

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Magic of the world in des­per­ate tri­als.
Revealed to us with widened eyes enlight­ened thoughts we die alive.
Leg­end inside leg­end around.
Gold is lost gold is found.
Free­dom search­ing chase demand­ing answers lie in under­stand­ing.
Answers pose grander ques­tions.
Ques­tions cho­sen find direc­tion.
The world as one it speaks affec­tion vision viewed through introspection.

1.9.13

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Shine that right off the shoes.
The shine that makes your inter­ests lose.
The inter­est as the one you choose.
Cho­sen sweet and liv­ing grand.
Open hearts and active hands.
Right off the shoes so they can walk.
And lead you fur­ther than you thought.

1.9.13

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Rise.
Liftoff points with pointed toes and evenings dawn draw­ing close.
Draw­ing flows of magic nation.
Nation of intol­er­a­tion.
Drift­ing slowly motion free.
Sail­ing over empty seas.
See­ing all dis­turb­ing none.
Weav­ing as a life’s begun.
Oh to float with­out a wing.
Build a song but never sing.
Twirling love anom­aly.
Erupt­ing tragic comedy.

1.9.13

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But­ter­flies are free to fly per­cep­tion seen through tilted eyes.
Awak­ened in, the slum­ber state embrac­ing wine to con­cen­trate.
Mary rocks cilantro sea­son.
Depths of pas­sion break­ing even.
In the time, the time is right if time aint breath­ing time unwinds.
Night­mares might. Shine to creep.
Each bro­ken man. May take a leap.
Rid­dles risen inter­mis­sion. Left is pain while smiles sleep.

1.9.13

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Newark inscrip­tions brains on a head­stand.
Tran­sit rid­ers live rhymes like red­man.
Hole in the chest like hole in day passes.
Waste­lands curl­ing in love avalanches.

12.13.12

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Rid­ing wide and high on trains observ­ing peo­ples puls­ing veins.
Skin and bone reac­tionar­ies wear­ing fear and love and star­ing.
Bleak alone while we’re together.
Endeav­ors mixed to search for feath­ers.
Whether bet­ter weather breathes in here we sit while we pro­ceed.
Direc­tion here.
Direc­tion there.
We’re here how­ever we’re nowhere.
In such con­fined spaces. Its strange to think.
Our time is over in a blink.
Never again. Will I see these beau­ti­ful faces.
We’ll dis­mount alone.
To chase our places.

12.13.12

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A cer­tain free­dom grabs your hips and spreads a smile cross your lips when coun­try­side explor­ing takes a hold of what you do that day. Armed with noth­ing but a mind thats open wide to ride the tide a sack attached on to your back with whiskey snacks to stay relaxed. Boots for move­ment tell that tale of every moment you inhale paired with shar­ing dis­tance greet­ings, liv­ing, lov­ing, think­ing, seeing.

12.13.12

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The indi­vid­ual.
Unable to think.
Con­sumed with cul­tures kitchen sink.
Ink on pages rip­ping thoughts from trou­bled minds and all they’ve caught.
In their web of con­vo­lu­tion.
Eyes are wide for rev­o­lu­tion.
The rev­o­lu­tion­ary.
Games divided.
Wide con­nect­ing brains and hid­ing.
Nerves entan­gled in eachother panic motions dis­tant brother.
Every step devo­tion quick­ens.
Always hold­ing whats within us.

12.13.12

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