The Boogieman

(1.)

Like an open black hole of expanded consciousness
Tearing limb-from-limb all truths that once were and ever will be thoughtful and relevant.
But just what is relevant about lying to ones self ?
Focusing on corrupt and defiled echoes of truth (In all of its divinity)?

"Don't kid yourself"

Don't kid.. who?
I don't know anyone by that name, said the scholar.
A blind man fumbling in a room filled with bear traps and meat hooks, waiting to teach him the value of continued existence!

"No, fuck that! I do not have to lose an arm to appreciate my fingers", says the crippled.
For who else could speak of dismemberment with such passion and knowing?
Who else could speak of the truth - that feelings begin not with the nerves, but with ones very existence?

And if one can understand the beginning of feelings, then one can also understand.
That the Boogieman
Does
Exist.

This creature is a phenomenon of the mind
Inspiring SELF-DOUBT
Provoking you to over-analyze your post-questioned assumptions

What else could you call this atrocious occurrence?
I once prayed
To
Be
Delivered
From the blessing of quandary
And be and granted stasis in blissful thoughtlessness.

But who else could speak of thoughtlessness with more passion than the thoughtless?
Is it inevitable that the analytical have their minds drained of their fluids
Through the barbed needles or scripture and be driven to a state of submission to a god?

I now question the comfortable. I ask them what compromise was made, that they were brought to such a lowly state.

I now pray to let revelations never cease to fill the gap between my left and right ears!
For I know that SURELY should that tragedy occur
I might be driven back to the hive mind
Unaware even of my own existence.

And who else could speak of existence with such passion?
Existence is the sole truth, all that I cling to!
I worship existence!
Basking in it!
Reciting ancient prayers in unworldly tongues known while I masturbate!
As I celebrate the moment for its own sake!
Let there be no mistake!
Lest the statement I make be dismissed as pornographic self-indulgence
I have come!
And I have been made my own harbinger!
To tell myself that should there come a time when existence abandons me, I will not know of it for There will be no consciousness to perceive of abandonment.

But who could speak of abandonment with more passion than one who has abandoned so many?

Yes, I am proficient!
Proficient in neglecting the feeling of those closest to me!
Of disregarding nature!
Of violating their trust!
Of dismissing their love!

(For what is love to one who cannot perceive it?)

Of chewing them up and spitting them on the cracked pavement like a wad of gum that had lost its flavor.

Yes, I am arrogant.
An arrogant mass of biological matter with soot-stained viewing ports behind which I gauge the world around me!

Yes, I am a god of the mind.
A mind so vast and understanding that arrogance is a byproduct of the synapses I produce!

Yes, I am mortal.
A mortal collection of electric neural pathways encased in flesh and linen!

Yes, I am proficient!
Yes, I am arrogant!
Yes, I am mortal!

AND I AM FLAWED!

(2.)

Dear Jane,
I write this letter to clarify my intent.

Said the blank page
To the confused eyes
That failed to understand that intentions
Are meaningless
Unless perception is agreed upon.

Agreements of truth
REAL OR NOT!
Are organic gestures more romantic than a thousand shrink wrapped roses
With pristine factory red pedals
And their three day freshness guarantee.

The time spent
On, "Hey honey, I just called to see how your day went."
On, "Don't worry about it, I'll clean it up."
On, "I'll be right over."
On, "You didn't have to do this!"
On, "How did you know?"
On, "SURPRISE!"

On a candlelit dinner or a clean kitchen
These speak in no single language
But bestow upon the recipient the same message,
"I love you".
The age-old phrase recited like a prayer as it flutters from his lips, manifested in a vocable so gentle that it could be hushed by the gentle flap of translucent firefly wings, so fragile is the definition and so honest is the meaning.

(2a.)

Like the overworked canvas in the back of the studio.
loved intensely for a few moments then ruined, never to be restored.
The feelings shared between two who exist, two who are human, are the manifestation of fragility.

Let there be a shrine built for each successful exchange of ideas.
Let there be a temple raised for each expression of love that did not involve "How much did you spend on that?.
Let there be a monument erected for each heartfelt kiss shared between two honest lovers.
And let there be a thousand tears shed for every occurrence of broken trust.
Let it be so!
And let it be called Atlantas!
A glorious wonder that will never be seen for the ocean of saltwater tears that conceal it from the world.

Forever in turmoil are those who question themselves for all the right reasons.
Forever in agony are those who ask themselves "why".
Forever in suffering are those who inquire as to the state of their current existence.

And forever in happiness are those who to all of these things and never settle upon an answer.. together.