sent and received texts that are only acceptable if you are in art school and or clinically insane

/ terrible collective poetry / performance art/ religious ritual out of body experience

*edited for punctuation and relevance, some portions of this written on a coffee filter

*Note: most of this conducted sitting under a blanket texting a very sleep deprived friend sitting beside me in a kitchen with some other (creeped out) people, us with terrified expressions and interpretive dance moves.

2:06 am, Monday December 14th

Him: "Hello. Rape me."

Me: "I am a new person now."

Him: "Then who are you?"

Me: "I am you."

Him: "Then me is you and

you is me.

Then who are we?"

Me: "Champions of the invisible."

Me, 2:13 am: "So pure.

Spirit tongues."

Him: "Bam. Our stripper. Babies hatched from an egg."

Me: "Pow. Same stripper. Manchild telepathy."

Me: “What is apathy anyway when we all feel so...

tree?”

Him: "Apathy is for the weak-minded.

I hold your soul in my hands, but what is strength when

no one has hands?"

Me: “When you hold the soul golden children where you rest.”

Him: “Where I rest is where you gave me my cherished life. You have to evolve your soul to be able to be free.”

Him: “Mufasa approves of your prayer flags.

But don't forget to raise it high, so that birds of heaven can see your prayer. For it will lead them to you.

I built the ladder. I dug a hole and escaped.

Do you understand? I did this myself.

The gods watched me. The golden children watched me.

The birds from.

Escape.

Our love is strong like tigers roaming the land.

You yourself will rise with the birds. I know that's what you want. I can see your mind in my sleep. My deep sleep. I climb out of mind to escape that sleep.

Heaven watched me. I am free. I own my own soul.

I am me. I am not you.

I am invisible to those who are not free who do not own their soul. I love you and you will live as long as the trees do.

If you leave, come back. If you die. 

You died. I will send you my love through the ground. But you can do this.

Climb.”

Me: “Dear spirits, I left my soul in the tapestry of our predictions.

The milk is warm with

cramped controversies.”

Him: “Dear young child, your soul is kept in a glass chamber guarded by the energy of the fallen. Just drink the milk and walk the line. Your soul is yours when you prove to the spirits that your body is ready.”

Me: “The guards of our youth are picking ants from our lungs.

Oh walls of my ancestry,

how can we dissolve

red symmetries?”

Him: “Your lungs are safe as long as you destroy the base of desperation.

To dissolve red symmetries you must ask the birds from heaven.

Send your prayer flags. Send your faith to the sky. Let the demons of unnatural living die at the end.”

Me: “Diamonds of the spirit manifest broken melodies.

Capture the test of space.

We are cadavers.”

Him: “Broken voices haunt the empty spaces in which we live.

Where we dwell I sacrifice everything for this.

Separate death from life and give the rest to the gods.”

Me: “Dress among the beams of tired truths.”

Him: “Dance with those who see our invisible love.”

Me: “It is invisible; therefore, the clockwork cloaks a war.”

Him: “expense of the holy light that shines through the darkest of darkest places”

Me: “Like the genitals of forgotten nations.

Where is age?”

Him: “Where is age? Age is due to the unforgivable wasted time of generations past.

I'm sorry.

I do know know what ticks a clock and what tocks a human.”

Me: “A human cannot be seen through the skin of chameleons.”

Him: “My tongue is weak.

You are right, but what is change?”

Me: “Change is what falls when beauty sits at

the pagan misery.”