Long Form: [excerpts]

long form
and other post-modern apocalypse

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“One no longer sees the blue sky or the green earth, only a consonant grey, brown or black enveloping the soul in a spider like web forming within a sphere like glass.”

I have no memory of anything, anymore. The line between the real and what was once considered unimaginable has long since blurred into a searing white noise rendering my mind blank as a canvas and still as a wintry morning blanketed with wet, heavy freshly fallen snow. There is no room for movement of any kind. If I were to look up, I would only see, staring back down at me, a sad, lonely reflection of an old and withered man I have become. Loneliness is the final mask hiding the pain and joy, which is life.

“I no longer touch the blue Earth or see the green Sky…”

This is not Death or what some have come to believe in as Death, more precisely, a catechism of purgatory, limbo, half-life, the spirit world, Bardo. One recognizes this state in questions poised "who’s listening, who’s speaking?" This is the oldest, most primitive, primordial conception of humankind.



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"What good is truth if the truth is us?"

Of course, this lovely imagination can never hold the truth and why would should it? Gauging from history, the changes the self as an absolute authority brings is what none of us really want. There is no God as there is no Death. Yet the ability to grasp the meaning of such is and has always been beyond the reach of Mankind’s rational mind and its obsessions and struggles of conformity. It is the words you read [or believe you read] now that is the closest you will know of these things. It is you who are Dead. In fact, you do not read these words or hold this book. If I where to answer you, why, at this moment you will dissolve, before your own very eyes, into a pool of undifferentiated matter which comprises and is comprised by the multiple realities of this Bastard Universe.


"I stand at the gate of Hell whilst holding the keys of heaven, yet, I can enter neither. My heart is as pure gold, a wild flaming fire whose love, compassion and kindness fuels all lust, hatred and desire. I am every poet and every mad man. I am every blessing and every lie that has ever been spoken."