busted again
with this rusty voice

unfocused again
these days 
i make different choice

weeks become the months 
where i barely
sit and scribble twice

pursuits produce a deficit
and hours are the price

for the trees

decay remains a sacred, essential process 
in the forests of old gods and arcane ecology

subtle death lingers beneath bending boughs
growing mighty upon the ancient corpses 
of fallen cousins, laid waste by nature’s aging

ancestral rot spawning trunks knotted and gnarled
where each fallen brother becomes a feast
for insects, enzymes, and the grim cycle
that knows no mayhem, only silent brutal honesty

soil black and bitter, nitrogen’s fiscal clot;
giving rise to tiny arboreal children
who creep delicately through blankets
of abandoned leaves and needles;
sapling cadavers who couldn’t survive the winter

dew’s slow destruction, restless festering; 
heartwood cracked, fungus wrought horror;
carving paths for fragile photosyntheses
and inimitable passage of seed to sprout

reaching, from shallow graves skyward;
upon generations of mineral inheritance,
doomed by roothood to inevitable surrender

life bequeathed by hallowed chaos
and the sacrificial birthbed of verdancy 

"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned."

William Butler Yeats, The Second Coming (via the-beauty-in-chaos-quotes)

(via deeplystained)

(via imminentdeathsyndrome1deac)

rear back atop pillars of self and scream: 
i am (and shall be) precisely what i mean to be
mine, my own, my lone eternal ownership

free, in the truest sense, from tyranny in all forms
kneeling to none with unwavering resolve
and obligation only to honor, integrity, and empathy

cast off the constructs that would have you shackled
in the name of placid and imagined symmetry and
reject the want of weakness to seek shelter in timidity

defy the rank and file lifestyle of the purposeless
through solemn and thoughtful investigation
of what it means to be the human beneath your skin

refuse, at every turn, to be tacitly commodified
to clothing, a clique, a creed, a company, a country 
and tower above the pernicious distractions of indignity 


Daehyun Kim - You Are Going to Die


Daehyun Kim - You Are Going to Die

(via o-nite)



n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate…

one of my favorites… and a thought that keeps me up at night. 

(via humananimalspoetry)

tumble headed trundle come unbundled bound for overload; blunder heavy boulder brain curmudgeon folding pokercard; rugged ugly bender bloat beloved distant disregard; buckled bridges tremble mindbender, undular burden fervor flex! what’s next? weighted wasteland savage madness unbridled downer power code…  


two weeks pass
and nary a word drafted

only dusty tongued 
notemaking haste

kerneled ideas
that remain

linear scraps
for the compost

this is the distracted drought 

how dare i say 
this is something 
i enjoy

then cultivate 
excuses and
drag my bones
through beds
of bramble

two weeks pass
and the soil goes dry

oh, what the smallest
showers can grow 

i need to revamp my work ethic somehow, and find a way hammer smash distraction. i must find a method to remove the drainstop that worries too much about the next word and causes clocks to whir while my fingers lie idle. i need to tackle projects with gusto and not malaise, and dive in some with kind of plan. i must subdue the hesitation.  

i’ve been busy but i want to be busier still. i need to make this work better.