Momentum

 We are all connected

living 

separately 

together. 

The best moments in life 

are those with which  

We'll never receive thanks for. 

Are those 

That give others a second

To breathe

And in those moments  

Angels float with us

And the world in hiding 

is seen.

Regrets

     "I wish I had let myself be happier" . Charles watched as clouds drifted over pristine gardens below and shadows danced between the rosebeds. 

Julie huffed and adjusted the weaved blanket that rested on his useless legs. 

    "Whatever do you mean?" She chirped. "You've had a wonderful, long life Charles" she tucked the corners into the sides of the wheel chair and patted the material down, straightening out any creases. Charles sighed deeply but didn't look up to acknowledge his carer busily working around him. 

    "I wish I had let myself be happier". He repeated. " It was never my dream to be as I am." His fingers on his right hand curled and began clenching and unclenching fists that shook frail wrists. Julie bent down and picked up a pen that had fallen from the chair, turned and put it back on Charles's small writing desk. Must post that, she reminded herself, seeing his will addressed and stamped sitting alone in the middle of the wooden surface. 

    "What was that Charles?" She said turning back to fit him with a bib. Charles did not respond, just sighed a long exhale. After a while of her pottering he spoke again. 

    "There comes a time when you are no longer yourself, no longer your own personality. You are shadows of something that others expect, doomed to forever dance delighted with their depictions of you." He clenched his fist again, shaking this time reaching his shoulder. Julie busied behind him folding fresh towels and placing them in his tiny onsuite.

    "That's interesting Charles" she hummed from across the room. Her tone had dropped to a drone. It usually did after a while, Charles had heard that retort a thousand times. He grimaced, a film of water growing to glisten his tired eyes. Still he stared out the window. To her it must seem like an old fool looking out to the strange new world below. To him however it was not outdoors he was searching, but within, bygone, floating through the mists of a life lived but not lived. 

    "I wish I had let myself be happier" He said, this time with more vigor, a deep pained loss powering the words rising up from his chest. 

    "I am everything to all people. I wish I had explored it all, instead of cowering fearfully before judgement. I wish I had acted obstinately, outrageously, impulsively. Not Shackled by others depictions of responsibility for me, or grounded by those that don't understand how to step away from the system, from society, to get lost in the mist and say fuck you to the machine. I wish I had allowed myself to dream, instead of ticking the boxes I am expected to complete."

    "I wish I had let myself be happier." He whispered, tears dripping silently down onto his weaved uncreased swaddle. 

    "Bohemian. Instead of worrying constantly about how I may be perceived. About work, love, sex, spirituality." His head dropped and eyes creased closed, furrowed lines on his forehead pressed down into his despaired depression and he let out a slight sob.

    "I wish I had let myself be happier."  He whispered to himself. 

A few minutes past, he opened his eyes, lifted and turned his head slightly to look at Julie. She, had continued on, turning pillows, straightening sheet edges, picking up small lint that messed the carpets hundreds had walked on before him. She'd organized his final words to the world, and conversed for what was deemed enough, as was expected of her, and now finished all her chores she looked at her phone and grinned.

He sighed. Closed his eyes. She would not recognize herself either. Shaking his head, he breathed a final, deep, breath. And to her, for her, he plead.  

    "I wish I had chosen to be free." 

Makeup

patriarchy

Vanity

empowering 

embarrassing

a nuisance, a chore 

Joie de vivre, j'adore. 

For ego 

For protection

Cover scars

Display 'perfection'

attract, lie, entrance the weak

make money, make masks, designs of deciet 

must wear it 

patriarchy demands it? 

Beauty has never been more accessible. 

Trained to be ashamed of the natural.

 

What of those without blessed complexion. 

cursed, disregarded, desperate for recognition 

salvation may only come through

shaded contoured painting.

Ego?

It is the natural world

It is how bloodlines grow

Only groomers successful

Will have their oats to sow.

Why do Women wear make up?

control

Hide

Art

Pride

Love

Hate

TV

Fate

Mycelium

 Mushrooms provided the answer.

The mushroom’s ability to ‘digest’ oil and plastic and other toxic waste materials identified itself as the perfect reset. Mycelium, the fine web of cells that branch out from the fruiting part of the mushroom and acting as the fungus' nervous system and stomach, could span for miles upon miles interconnecting willing flora. Microplastics and other toxic materials made solely for industry and destruction still existed, though thanks to mycelium, they could now be digested. The mushrooms were spawn and seeded by the Animate. It was the first act of a higher being that understood the necessity of nature above all, and it paved the roads for inter connectivity between all living things for generations to come. Inside each spawn, a picobyte. A tiny artificial multi-celled organism housing a nucleus capable of transmitting electrical impulses ‘messages’. This was how the Animate communicated with the living world. 

Psylo, a psychoactive content of a specific type of mushroom had the ability to reduce anxiety in hormonally dependent species. Ingested or distributed at certain levels, the active ingredient could deter an instinctively aggressive response, or dissuade a looming depression, could balance erratic cycles of serotonin, dopamine, androgen secretion, especially in mammals. It’s psychoactive ingredient could save people from the fears they created. This was the first step towards peace between the warring Etchians. Subdue fear, contain it within, understand the chemical processes and then define the parameters that would ensure such fears could not be harnessed to exact unprecedented destruction ever again. The picobytes that ran through every living organism in Etch also coursed through the veins and blood of each Etchian providing a connection never felt before to the world around them and to the Animate itself, and introduction of trace amounts of psylo to the blood of each Etchian enhanced this connection tenfold. It allowed the Animate to study the Etchian species and thier actions and it was through studying the distress and hormonal response of the last years of the Simian war, the Animate was able to provide the balance. A mild ‘pinch’ on the hormonal secretions of both the male and female of the species, or cushioning of extreme levels to be exact, combined with added psylo secretion should the levels of testosterone, estrogen, serotonin, dopamine, adrenaline , oxytocin, cortisol reach levels above the desired range, ensured the outliers that usually displayed erratic behavior were calmed, cooed, damaging impulses subdued. Combined with psylo Etchians erraticism began to dissipate, and fighting slowed, stopped, a new enlightened introversion of oneself and one's actions opening up a question only previously asked by a few. Why? Why are we fighting? 

The spark

 First, there was the spark. Then, everything. Noone could really remember what came before. Whether anything came before. Or whether the spark was the start of it all. It mattered not to most, they had jobs to do. My job though was simple: 

find your shadow. 

simple, right? 

These were only lines of code I could retrieve from the burn. Why I had been chosen for the job I didn't know, my utility was minimal at best, still, I was chosen. Find your shadow. My shadow. 

I know I could just look behind me, follow the trail. It was sometimes called a 'shadow' by the oracles that policed the platform crossings, the memories of oneself recorded on the blockchain, but something clawed at me, twisting my head in a different direction, telling me to look deeper. Find your shadow. 

 I needed to know what came before. I needed to know the first memory ever recorded on the blockchain. And find the agent that recorded it. I needed to know their purpose, their goal. And I needed to know why. 

I felt compelled by something to get an answer to the question I know deep in my code I should not ask. 

What came before the spark? 

To get any semblance of sense, any slither of a clue, there was only one place to start. The Great Neural Net.  

The noose

Whiskey shy, shouts crash through these thin walls. 

"Fuckin sort it out"

"Go on en, fuckin go on en!"

"Na didn't fuckin think so"

"Chicken shit, useless fuckin prick"

Outside smoking, the back door opens. 

Neighbour

Muttering through ruffling of hair

He sits down, elbows on knees, and head, finally, falls. 

Smoke rises between his curtains

Hands held out limp, clutching death between fingers

I glance at him

Broken

inside she's still screaming 

"You alright pal?"

I ask

His head picks up, hands clench, eyes quash the glistening that has been growing inside them. 

"Yeah" 

He smiles. 

And then sighs. 

Looks over to the open door

then to the opposite end of the garden

and back at me

drops his head again

"It aint too late"

I tell him

"It's never too late"

Sleepless

 I roll as I wake

And pat the space I expect you to be

It's 3am

Your still asleep 

Leagues away 

on the other side of the great 

mega bed

A slight snore leaves your lips

And magnetic shuffle of hips

Brings you closer to me

I smile 

Watching you

At subtle beauty

The t-shirt you wear

Crossed sticks and drums

I haven't played In years

Repose

The nights over

Eyes closed

Hounded by

Haunted Memories

Breathe quickly

Our Toes Touch 

Gently 

Exhale

slowly

drifting off

Finally

Serenity

Undefined

 Stuck in the in-between

Not quite red 

Not quite green

Not quite lilac

Yellow, purple, blue

Not quite me

Not quite you

Not a label

Not a stable security

Impossibly

Everything

All at once

Not defined, refined, aligned with what

'Should be'

Not part of this 'society'

Only part of part of it

Not enough for all of it

Not enough whatever you call it 

With who to connect to

Not quite me

Not quite you

Choose

You must choose

With who to connect to

Not quite me

Not quite you

Jelly mind

 Don't try to be clever when not knowing what to write. Don't try to rhyme or work within the syllables. Especially if coming down from a heavy weekender. Everything becomes secular. Each tiny magnificence surrounding becomes insignificant. The only thing important is to fall into film. Head first. Body is the enemy anyway. So dive down crown turned to comforted pillow and bask in the hollow. Bask in the utter incompleteness, Resting sleepless, under covers of daylight. Body wants food. Eat food. Snooze. more food. More food. Hunger isn't even a problem. But it becomes one as the hangover begs and pleads for more grease. Phone off. Or at least far away. No that's too far. Check messages. Of course no-one has texted in the last 60 seconds. Throw phone to other side of room. But it's still on. It will have to be picked up at some point. Spend next 2 hours arguing with self to get up and retrieve it. The belly calls the shots, pizza it says, pizza. phone retrieved. Pizza ordered. Back to writing, nope. don't try and be significant. Not today. Thinking through lines hurts eyes and head so instead phone firmly OFF. Smile, cuddle down, snuggle in. film suddenly becomes interesting. 20 minutes daze past, brain frantically sifting through important and unimportant information.  But then. One thought creeps in. Shit. Phones off. How will the pizza get delivered.? 

Fuck.

Within not without

 Biscuits

Beans

Mandy

Charlie

ket

 o.g

Sticky brown

Squidgy black

Coffee

Coffee

Beers

Coffee

Wine in the sunshine

Beats dancing dreams 

nakedness free

And naked trees

Incredulous

Oblivious

To the words shouted at us

By the media circus

Outside this bliss

No wifi

No phone

No capture

upload

Conversation 

Spoken

With meaning. 

Here is your family 

Here just be

A world Away 

from the tricks of the screen

relight

 seeing your smiles

your laughs

hugs and hopes and happenstance

shared with those you think you can't be a part of 

anymore

warms 

my 

soul

I stand back and watch

keen to remove myself as a possibility

watch as your mouths move a million times a minute

to the beat of the gap that has grown between you

and within seconds 

you are 

rekindled 

Anew

and I smile

I've known for a while all you want is love

from those that you want to be a part of

I've known for a while that you need me

to step back

so I do

and I see you 

smile and laugh

hugs hope and happenstance

with a family you have just wanted to be a part of

enough

I hope its enough 

Because

With every step back taken

I drift a bit further away from them

Away From a family 

I just want to be a part of