There is a sidewalk between worlds.
On one side there is emptiness
and on the other an infinite curtain.
It’s made of a thick, dark blue velvet
and casts a faint purple glow
that illuminates the rock path beside it.
The curtain is constantly moving
like the surface of a vertical ocean.
A small, elderly man rides a unicycle
along the sidewalk, wobbling somewhat,
as if he hasn’t quite mastered his balance.
He circles me carefully, looking up
and adjusting his slightly bent, wire-frame
spectacles that stubbornly slide back to
the tip of his nose the very next moment.
After three more orbits, he takes off,
holding one hand out and touching
the curtain, sending out waves like ripples
on the surface of a lake. I watch him disappear.
“When we touch it here”, he says, suddenly beside me,
“it changes what happens on the other side.”
I wonder to myself, “What’s over there?”
“We are,” he answers, as if my question
was directed toward him.
“Here and there are the same possibility,
but you can only look at one each moment.”
Peering down, the man spies a pebble on
the sidewalk and stoops over to pick it up.
He squints his eyes, trying to see me clearly
over his apparently useless eye-wear, and
throws the rock at the curtain with a splash.
The waves radiate out in a circle, back and forth.
My stomach begins to hurt as the disturbance grows
and causes my body to refract in the hazy
radiance of the curtain.
I throw up in the sink of my bathroom.

Walking through the fetid
subterranean pipe,
the blood blows past me
like some archaic wind,
uninterrupted and unyielding,
eroding everything that
chances to pause too long.
The drummers in the distance
keep me on task.
Two beats and pause,
two beats and pause.
“March on now soldier,
she’s just up ahead.”
I trudge onward like a drone
driven by a singular instinct
to survive,
to learn,
to know.
The cadence quickens,
The blood becomes louder,
I cannot feel my legs,
my eyes are blinded by the dust
of ten-thousand rusted swords.
Two beats and pause,
two beats and pause.
Their demands become louder,
“She’s just ahead,
you cannot stop.”
The tunnel is endless.
I have no memory of when
I began this forced advance.
Where did I come from?
Who am I?
Who is she?
None of that matters.
I cannot stop,
I cannot turn back.
I am the search.
I am the progression
of madness into
until there
is no I

Staring out my window
Watching the clouds
Darkness slithers closer
Searching for me
Hungry for my pain

I see the rain
Against the glass
But it makes no sound
It calls me
Beckons me to join
Its peaceful dance

Opening the door
Stepping outside
Raising my hands
Offering my body
Begging for release

The rain against my face
Is not rain at all
But the numbing poison
Of the great beast above
Its fangs obscured
As it waits

I smile without knowing
The soothing pleasure
The erotic scent
The feeling of happiness
Was all for naught.

The ocean,
It’s motion,
Forces from above.
Washing away love.

Now do you hear my name?
A voice that calls to you.
Can never be the same,
There’s nothing we can do.

Our long forgotten days,
Are gathered at your feet.
We cannot change the waves,
Or who we each will meet.

A potion.
Deadly to the heart.
The ocean,
It’s motion,
Tearing us apart.

You can leave

Come into my home2014_Cenzura
Express yourself
I embrace creativity
As long as
You don’t say something
I don’t like
Or discuss something
I don’t want
You to discuss
It is my home after all
If you don’t like it,

You can leave.

Come visit my community
Express yourself
I embrace creativity
As long as
You don’t say something
I don’t like
Or discuss something
I don’t want
You to discuss
It is my community after all
If you don’t like it,

You can leave.

Come live in my country
Express yourself
We embrace creativity
As long as
You don’t say something
We don’t like
Or discuss something
We don’t want
You to discuss
It is our country after all
If you don’t like it,

You can leave.

Welcome to our world.
You have been conditioned
To accept the domination
Of others
Your entire life
In fact
You want it
need it
crave it

We do not care
about your
You say only
What we tell you
You don’t discuss
You simply do
As you are told

This is our world after all
If you don’t like it…

Censorship is the suppression of speech or deletion of communicative material which may be considered objectionable, harmful, sensitive, or inconvenient. There are many types of censorship: moral, political, military, religious, corporate. Each type comes with its own set of justifications for the prohibition and control of free expression.
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