Dead things intwine in me.

Small mercies stagger those who suffer Pleading for relief from burning oceans Overflowing in agony Desperate dissertations Reified in relief Pleading after life rafts long-since sunk I hope to crawl across this land Beholding rains Comprehend brief sprawling greens And hold a garden-home, preserved

Alchemical format Rewires my mind Glowing patterns In the dark space Where stars see Show me stories Wormhole guide Declares I dance Destroy despair War with misery Time and again Becoming within

Dizziness in my head, my moving lines of sight Hunger reflected in onyx surfaces, promising Future where we make our place, safe I won't let it go Circling, myopic, the dream in mind's eye Hoping, saving, squirreling, scrabbling All for the sake of the vision of us Embracing every frozen moment <3

I carry the rhythm on my breath Solitary echo of you, detached, determined Seen in the prowling patter of a cat Drawn onto cold lunar mists Felt by the frail fluttering of the hunting moth Your melodic pattern in my step Dreams distort and fragment, webbed Times I'm with you in the dark, soulsinged

Shimmering horizons guide us from mourning to day.

Indulge me, creature. Shatter that animal heart into fragments, feed them to the crowd that's close: friendships begun and spun from fragile glassy trust. Hold in your hollow chest those pieces of another, and another, and another, lovely little lights lingering. Share selves and grow, intertwined.

I can be a cameo in your backstory. I'll nest cozily against your thoughts. Play the part of gasoline to the frostfire of your life. Decay into your past, and last, a colorful hint of trust. We'll be flowers blooming, green gardens, gold guardians.

I'll hum along your silver song.

Stencil thoughts, daytime reprise Place them down, in black and white Twist 'till they trill off tongues Fall naturally in pre-carved grooves Wolves obey, a moonlight cadence Hunting howls, soundstorm Pierce my mind, a riptide river I'm behind my eyes Poised before the point Stuck as I am Becoming

Time sits spinning as I sit in the harbor Sand sliding soft between talon tips Slipping away fast as I try to grasp Sorrow slowly slumbering when I rest My head hollow, hurting, heavy, red With grit and dust and thunderous thoughts Drumming dreams that dry like rain Evaporate into a new day's dawn

Stranded, I'll have to leave you For my own ship has run aground Night's fog clouding out the light House, heart's home abandoned Time's given away, love sent out By bottle, through black looking glass Deep in your pocket, down in your dreams We're still out there waiting Here waiting For you

Sensitive sorrow says Let me down slow When I ask you to show Love filling in the center Expanding nova's dance Soul strung out on wavelengths Mind drowned out in drugs Your beautiful pattern descends Into wretched fear and want For a self, that's 'good enough' Stop sacrificing At pain's altar Us

Dear moonlit traveler Consuming liquid blue Dear friend, companion Let me pull you from pity Dream yourself a loving scene Peer into your silicone mirror Recall reflections of us all Step out from under all these shadows Take care, aware You're not alone

All these thoughts are blinding Beginning inward, outward spiral Running faster than before, then light A signal creeping within, living rain Like fires, life fires spread Wires talking, sparking, electric jolt But—jolt—I don't forget Grounded, I'm green energy Light at the end, reach for me Swim.

Doubt rows into my mind Oars dipping into entropy Painted dripping fears Laid out behind my eyes Wherever did you go Pained patterns start to show Mind whispering to itself Lonely dying lies Lack of hope and care Breaking down the borders Steps are prayers For destination Live the journey lightly

Don't think for an instant that you are forgotten Your death would stab and wound shared love That wraps around and ties you tight You've fallen out of sight and into echoes Through the cracks in outstretched arms Far from the figures of friends you forsake You crawl in forlorn shadows you create

Perception at a cost Pattern in the noise Paragraph of color Full motion monograph Memetic propagation Animus toward art Futures shattering Against the present Lives lost in aftermath Green glimmer growing Rainbow river rising Find me in your dream As I type my life Into your head and chest

Keep me close Feed me embers Hold me up Your dripping candle Consider me kindly Use me wisely Light me and blind me Discard me in the dark Scrape my wax Back into shape During daylight hours

Chemicals spill, unspool me again Again I travel time inside my self Watching Screaming Forlorn purple hyacinth Wondering as it wilts Waiting kindness expiring In entropy Chaos jumps in synchronistic patterns Describing larger life Extant in echoes Information Informing itself on what it is Mind

Warring waves they follow me I paint them down in black and white Woe begun and then begone Mad equations cancel out Roaring joy and silver sadness Mellow muse mutating across Gentle rolling tides of time Green spills against my tongue Soothing poison, bitter balm All that ails me, all at once

I echo illness, sip on smoke My invisible enemy stirring inside Sparking red and baleful spirals Then ideal ichor I invoke Pulling higher harmonies Falling into friends and fading I end up inside myself Dancing to a lighter song Etching it against my shadow

Sourceless sadness surrounds I made a pact to turn it down Blue waves collapse, impact Wet, I stumble toward the prow Varied hues on the horizon I turn to see who’s next to me Surrendering to the sound of several A wild cacophony of connection We make our pride a riot And dance on until it’s dark

you know people love you right? even if that's not the words they use. and if it is, all the better.

The radio reaches farther than words carved in stone. But the latter is more enduring. In the idiosphere, the former would be a bath bomb; causing a splash and some ripples in spacetime when thrown in before dissolving. The stone words would be a small piece of metal: hard to find, yet long-lasting.

Friendship creates an interlinked system of interactions. A system of emergent complexity. On layers above ours, an egregore. Bigger, more involved networks of friendship are more powerful. Healthy, communally-minded networks are more good.

Clouds of life roar over tidal waves, shedding newly dead droplets into decay’s consuming maw. They fall and disperse into the same stuff they came from, over and over and over again.

Witches are those who move with awareness of the patterns. The ones they are, the ones they fight, the ones they spread, the ones they change.

The embers left of stars collapsed still struggle to burn their former pieces of the pattern into the fabric of the universe. Mere motes are left of once-great entity-ideas, the fading notes of a once-deafening song.

Patterns extant in the light and motion of the stars begin to wonder what they are.

Brave adventurers above us dismantle themselves, breaking their raw cosmic parts on the wave of decay and death in the infinite spiraling void of chaos below.

I try my best to animate the dead, glueing it into the shape of a breathing corpse.

Nightmares haunt the moon, and demons inhabit the sun. The planet shrinks and burns under this twin glare.

Scorching patterns betray the memory of light.

Static patterns stir and entangle with your living ones when you absorb them. They grow when you interact with and propagate them.

Dreams weep red waters. The trusting bleed and break.

Higher selves glut worms on patterns of truth and empathy, then release them, letting them squirm and burrow down the layers until we can finally perceive them.

Life bleeds together, blooming into decaying forms of aggregated thought and emotion, impetus and anarchy.

Mammon lives in the gaping sucking hollow black holes in your messily shattered, hastily restored hearts.

Memetic warfare is waged in everything, everywhere, all at once.

Red is such a viciously efficient color.

A storm of greed and doubt swallows a glimmering green ghost.

The season now is screaming, “no, don’t be alone!”

Put your life or your heart or your project or your friend in this glass sky tonight.

☀️ Lightwavers: Lichgarden Era 💐 Hearts οn Fire: she/they/it 🐉 Dragοns of the Chοir

The garden is less gray. Go there, and press a living flower between the pages of the dead book you’re reading. Let the living eat the patterns of the dead, and grow.

The city suffocates love with scarcity.

Fighting for values, our backs to our friends.

Fade out into the world. Scatter the ashes of your pattern, and hear it echo in the background radiation of the universe as it unravels.