Freewrite

So, some lines are meant to be longer (some twice as long) and that doesn't come up here. I know it's long as hell too, congrats and thanks if you get through it. Anyways, format is a bit messed up but it's the content in this one that's the meat of it anyway. Hope it does something for you... millions of people with your cross on their necks walking like bleeding poppy fields on veteran's day honouring the casualty of necessity and rays of salvation in comfy white collar churches do they doubt the superhuman exuberance inherent in the hooker's red lit window or the crack fueled lungs begging for money with the politeness of a buddha? don't cry boy, hold up your head, forget about gethsemane and if any motherfucker comes into your garden you flog him with a rose bush there is no will to power only the freedom to live and die and i'm scared lord, i'm scared you see jesus knew where he was going but my heaven's caught in a cloud i'd love to ascend with you in a flaming chariot but the thunder is too beautiful to behold besides, i think i'm getting to like this opiate charm of suffering if it lets me smell the grass. think i'd rather sit beneath this tree dreaming, vivacious and atrophied, the human archetype on this earth the acid pools of perception show me we are all one and one is all like ocean spray still i wonder why it's all so incompatible? wouldn't change it, no, i wouldn't change it for an instant - the vague promise that these monads aren't windowless is enough sometimes when i feel the loving atomic space between your hands and mine, the electric soothing thrill of penetration, and sometimes when your lips traverse leaving crimson footprints i believe that it's all true and real i wonder, all our martyrs, starving and stuffed full of bullets and AIDS, third world souls do they worry about this? perhaps they take it as a given, or my ivy vanity has grown too wild but even walking with junkies won't assuage my fears or hit the off button on this illusion but please do hit the mute button one more time or numb yourself with the drug of prescribed music they sell it in pharmacies, fashion stores, cellphone kiosks, corner stores let its drumming on your earbud be the drone of bombs as the dresden between your ears is razed again. where are you going with those dilated pupils boy, hold up your head, and forget about the burning bush tripping balls so bad you thought you heard god well i've got news for you "god is dead - and we - we still need to overcome his shadow" because we're beyond good and evil and the holocaust was just a blink in history's red, sleepless eye maybe for you nietzsche but not for five million jews, or the generations beyond; i may be half german but only half the jews i've met were dragons with their gold and the other, well they were a lot more noble than most, though i'd like to ask gandhi what were to have happened if the allies hadn't joined their bloody hands and smashed fearful young third reich skulls with their rifle butts leaving a abstract splatter like modern art upon the canvas white before the serpent's fruit but now there's blood on the cement and the walls, theres blood on my breath and in bathroom stalls you can't see it now but give it some time and you'll see that i'm right. as a post-gen-x child i know no death to war but the casualty of my father to a crushed self a struggling butterfly under the military boots of reason's priests, more collateral damage another diagnosis, another prescription filled, another mental disorder on the loose don't worry, it's called panic disorder and i'm sure we can monopolize a pill to help you out but my father walks on two feet now and though my stride is not so wide i follow gratefully one drop of sea spray returning to the ocean is enough to leave a ripple i haven't moved from this tree and i'm still dreaming of peace to sow some seeds that may catch if i planted a mustard seed maybe my faith would grow but which came first, the chicken or the egg? so go ahead and judge me, you cannot reach me now for i've realized i am but a mirror trying to live in beauty but it's all in the reflection and it's getting tough to reflect the love that's hiding somewhere between the subterranean way and sky train but one day you'll look and you'll see your love in my eye, and mine in yours we will cease to be strangers and we will become the entrance of spring after winter the downtrodden will laugh, the comedians will cry on stage, and all will be as it once was and is meant to be.