"thawed until frozen"

walked I to heavenly mountains? dropped I to utter depths of murk?
sit down and let away false pretenses. open true ear and dream.
listen and hear my words or ask not anymore, for I tire, and sleep.
sit back upon shallow rock and let limp stone find you, effortlessly.

flesh, the weakness of soul at first so enamoured with taste, shines.
a tangible flash crawls off it in the moon, it's alive in light.
awoken to the sound of drops to leaf, ears bleeding clouds of mist,
your eyes shine upon that scene, bone, sinew, open, raw to the touch.

start from your corpse, run from broken shin, dance from cuddled head.
do what comes natural in truth, not what effects you, hampers with act.
let go of the sense of longing, drive onward to detached glee. free,
the skin and cells binding your nerves to me, jump and float away.

body and soul aren't one and all, but halves of quarters and eigths,
muscle and ligament tied to machinery meant to allow us breath.
dire challenges exist in sweat, allowing us a viewpoint, a guess.
drinking down the fruit of labor, one can understand how we burn.

soon the air becomes apparant, as walled troves of life, of death,
the smell of blood, of brain is not coined, the resonance though, sits,
trembling your sphere, your bowels with dismayed, excited release.
every ounce of you shakes of the true self, you awake, in first...

next morrow you rise, a refuge of dreams, another terror in trance.
your mind gave you ample reason to be afraid, death, harsh end remains.
in your mind, that is all you see, but in your heart you know truth.
that's the sole harbor or your ties to the physical world: regret.

endless oceans of fish waiting to drink your bile, and you sit alive,
your flesh, food for scores of animals so hungry in the night.
you, too attached to living, so you continue to breathe, to wake.
one night or morning though, you will seek sleep, an end, so sweet.

standing up to death remains shaky. to stand down from life, taken,
given up to something else which you do not control...you can't let go.
every night you taste a minute draught of the soul-spinning curse,
the cruel plan of all light-wound creatures. we do not really ever die.

we sleep and stumble thru an alluring tide of memories and fact,
though our inner scent knows the place of our infernal rest, hope,
to drop all knowns and beliefs, except for the dire demand to go on.
I must let the waves rush over me eventually, cast me up and away.

floating again. as in sleep, wandering to the flesh of the unborn,
chancing an appearance in the frame of anyone has risks, but calm,
knowing you're given another chance to fix your cracked senses,
another bite at the feast of eternity which we sour more and let rot.

humanity questions all that is reasonable and simple, for the chase,
the quest to prove or disprove something or someone. forged riddle,
answered as easily as a single word in darkness, echoing silently.
the words refer to inner callings, fine combustions of utter peace.

are such ramblings ever noticed, listened to by any masses?
unless masses are made of single partied, sad and lonely maniacs, no.
rather depths and legions of living die, forgotten and vague.
when they rise again, mere twinkles and overlapping drive signal life.

in the eyes of a tawdry stranger, everyone is sharp. cuts of air,
slices of ocean drink, dollops of sand and dirt, spiraling flames.
we are viewed purely by those who know us in the least, not privately.
to those strangers and those odd to us, the truth is shown, alive.

that honest answer doesn't say we are that dead member of clan,
but questions the foundations on which we think we believe.
for those bare moments of discovery, cogs turn that are rusty,
while treadmills shatter and whip around like razors, striking back.

the bite of any thought of enlightenment dulls after a time.
wanton lust for chrome demons, beef-skinned pants, apples of earth,
require our lightened minds to forget and wander on, heavy, a slave.
reborn into lost beasts, so we can make better boom sticks, more traps.

when the sunrise falls lazilly upon my waking eyes, my flesh asleep,
I shall know the sense of relying on my own sweat, my own muscles.
drinking cold lake water and warming myself by tricks, I smile.
upon that lake will I oneday live, the fire bringing my doom awaits.

for in that moment of sheer pleasure, freedom from all the chains,
I'll smell the burning scent of nearby trees, victims like us all.
knowing my sunny chunk of land, borrowed for a time, is dying,
murdered by others brought by greed, I'll cry, and cry, and cry.

in those following seconds, as the smoke chokes my lungs, I'll stop.
resigned in knowing it was bound to fall, I breathe in the blackness.
dropping down to clutch the earth in kindness, I smile, close my eyes.
then I'm floating, to somewhere else if I'm ready, otherwise, back...