Future World Leaders

Consciousness
Streams of Exaltation
Consistency demands allegiance
allegiance to all of this is killing talk
Living in preparation
your in the commencing the habit of a:

Future World leaders
Future war leaders
Drink socialite poison and count the bodies of your failures
You're such future world leaders.

Capitalist universal
Exchange of the rolling world
Presidents and CEOs
Accidents of corporate woes
Stock market/downtown motion slows
The skeleton shows
The wealth of such misfortune grows. It grows

Future World leaders
Future war leaders
Drink socialite poison and count the bodies of your failures
You're such a future world failures.

Future World leaders
Future war leaders
Ivy league grads and future wall streeters
The rhythym defined by your marching in time
Future world failures
Say what you mean.

Day Two: Thirst

Trees are a river of that which swallows light.
I remain wholy unimpressed or satisfied by those aspects
of nature that were added mine.
Within the cycle. Containment.
My memory is moving between,
like a carousel it rotates.
Control is an illusion a prediction a joke.
Now I am lost in the confines that I have created.
The thought and insight I need to leave,
was traded for such a vain exploration of everpresent
landscape.
I AM ONLY WHO I SAY I AM.
Beauty's water is filling my eyes, my blood is drying up.
The gorgeous surroundings are reason enough to never let
another drop of that cold poison past my lips.
Lucid, is just a word.
A vestigial organ on the tip of my tongue beyond my teeth,
as I attempt to satisfy my body growing in desire of water.
Sweat soaks my shirt its all I need, but the last thing I want,
all I want is to succeed in the failure of physiology.

Day One: Belongings

Encircled in blades of grass, my mind racing.
I am frantic, imagining the line of silence between light,
and the lighter light.
Every image is a recollection of two hours, differently arranged.
A vague picture of walking, of leaves crunching underfoot, small sticks
being seen and stepped on simultaneously.
IS THIS WHO I AM?
Ventures, feelings, longings, aspiration, right-and-wrong.
Every boundary has been crossed, except that single line of silence.
For now, I believe I'm hearing the sounds around me.
Light sings vivid symphonies, my senses are breathing in everything.
The cawing of distant black birds, the soft hum of the woods, the irritation
from sticks and coarse grass, the bursts of blue,
and overwhelming white radiance burning through the leaves above me.
Today is Thursday.
My mouth begins to tremble, I lick my lips
but the rain brings no satiation to the desert.
My body will get used to this.
All of these colors, these sounds, these feelings, these smells.
They all belong to me, and their name is Sepulchre.

-End of Day One.