Their Name is Morpheus

They say,

“Forget marriage, the proper/authentic dowry is the heart. I don’t give you mine, we share it. Connect the superior vena cavas. There is no license necessary for the tax break of the open heart. The vulnerable heart breaks constantly forming thick roots, grounded in the Earths’ core.”

A gift- to grow, to expand, to the nurture the self // We are all the souls of the sun, the stars, the moon, the Earth—- the Universe.

Molecules bouncing, racing, pounding, connecting and breaking.

Who says, we must create a synthetic form to connect? Why use glue, when blood stains deeper; when carbon fuses to oxygen?

Industrial Love Making

I wonder what fabricated, rusted manufactured thoughts I still have of you based on my existence to matter? In your space do you smell colors and see disguises of thoughts, like I do? Do you smell the rotten white matter of the diseased mind that hoards it’s pathway, it’s road of freedom in the confines of the ego?

Morpheus replies, “… that’s the disguise- your space is my space and it’s just SPACE.”

Like gender is fluid. Like when the most secure moments are when we are alone crying for help, ricocheting our most sensitive physical selves into the invisible matter, into the air hoping for the formation of our wants and desires to manifest itself creating our union with someone/something for happiness. Yet,  it really just is. Like gender is fluid. Like black is white. Like blood flows. Arteries thickening. Pores opening. Stomatas breathing. The inhalation of carbon dioxide. The exhalation of oxygen. Symbiotically we are connected whether one wants to believe it or not. Feel it or be it. Or not.

But what of happiness? I am Joy. I can’t seek what I have discovered is rooted from within. They say love is blind, yet nothing is kind when eyes are wide open. How can you be, when all we see is the darker image of ourselves mirrored by others and ourselves desperately needing vitamin D? The detritus. The gaunt ghostly faces of starving children, reaching out for the love never received, the acceptance never gained from the older children who created us. The zombie like images in the mirror of our darker selves needing to be released reflect our ancestors need. We are living for them too. They are living for us. We must die. We must change. These are both constants. Inevitably it will all happen.

Utilize the machine for growth. For organic lovemaking. For inspiration. For openness and fluid connection. The binary never existed, why focus on it?

Morpheus, I will continue to dive into you; into the emptiness for peace.

A love lost is genuine love found.

The realization I’ve discovered is in the deeper part of WHO IAM in relation to you.

Darker forms deconstructing the thick scar tissues, building the authentic being.

Breaking through the masked, scarred matter, I start to recollect that we “Matter- less” and less.

Surrendering into pain.

Sitting in the fear.

Breathing in cold.

Dying a millions times over.

Constantly moving, creating, connecting- thus forming the identity lost.

I’m alien. I am an alien. I am that I am.




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