it's coming down

it's coming down
right now
all around us
all over you and me
and this might be
just the beginning

fellow passengers

who are we really? right there. right then. if we don't know, if we do know, whatever we say is whatever we say and whatever we say comes into play, so let's play that its play ... and forget that we're playing, and see if that can give us just  a little more space, and a nicer ride for those next to us, because those next us might be right next to us.

the light and the tunnel

light then tunnel, then light then tunnel, closer and further to the life of death. what if we're alive? what if we're actually alive? even if they're all dead, all of them but life. Waking up again and before, dreaming into what is as what was - every second, third, fourth, fifth dimensionless, time less, space less, words less than my single eye itself which is raw, blood and pulse, blinking a shutter speed unknown except by you, my only love. down here we are steel screaming, digging through hope, dirt, and changing, changing - does it matter? does it matter at all, since we're worming a hole to keep coming at us more, and discover this first familiar face who is the very end of color, who is the very beginning of thought? fascination. a black hole. fascination. a white light.  more. ever more.

she never sleeps

 

she never sleeps. there's someone downstairs from you that's awake before you're awake and awake as you fall asleep, awake while you dream, awake while you shit, while you shower, while you plan, while you speak, while you live and live and live again, she never sleeps. since she never sleeps, you can't know who she is, and can't know who she isn't, yet you are well aware that right now she hears everything you talk about upstairs, everything you do upstairs, every move you make, down to the minute you make it, knows everyone you've ever invited inside, and why. since she never sleeps, since she knows everything you know, you might say she's a part of everything you know. since she's heard everything you've said and done, you might say she's part of everything you say and do. since she's seen so much, heard so much, about what you do and who you are, she's probably way beyond judgement, way beyond criticism, way beyond opinion, absolutely impartial about which, what and why, yet intimately aware, intimately involved, and since she lives downstairs, she probably wants peace most of all - just like you. since she hears everything you say, even at the darkest hour, it might be interesting to start talking to her. who knows? since she's always here, always has been and always will be, and is here right now ... it might be an extraordinary thing to attempt to listen to her. what might she say?