the roots i sought to poison.

i have been taken. by myself.

on journeys, endless journeys pursuing divinity. pursuing a place amongst the ghosts of integrity, amongst the antihero's of untold creation myths.

i have been unsettled, within myself.

ungrateful for my achievements, unimpressed with my decisions, weary with where my energy has been placed. participating in the shadow i am at war with. i seek to define its silhouette in a barrier of visibility.

i try to pluck the seams of my culture, to unravel it's deceptive weave.

the tools i enter the battle with have been broken. i stand naked with myself, only able to direct my own path. the tanks and cannons i have built to wage the wrath of my convictions have only been weak mirror images of one piece of my truth. indirect.

roots define the health and prosperity of its display. i have been taken, on a journey above soil, dancing amongst the displays and exaggerations of truths and lies, of culture and structure, of people and creature, of system and chaos. my end lies in the depths. my journey calls me to bury myself, to mimic the plants of fall.

i seek to drop my display, shed my attractive elements, and dig deep in the underbelly of our disease. here i'll find my enemies, my dead lovers, my broken self, all of my answers, and here i'll fall prey to the unbeatable.

here, so buried beneath our world, i will finally fail. i will be unable to surface, and the worms will feast on the gifts of my passing prosperity until my journey ends in decay, feeding the roots i desperately sought to poison.

to society

you will give birth to me, you will feed me and let me grow, you will teach me, wire me, program me, you will try to indoctrinate me, but i won't receive it.

and so

you will banish me, you will pass judgement, you will curse me, spit at me, you will not forgive me, you will watch me rot, let me die, you will take all from me, you will kick me, you will strike me, you will leave me to die in the gutter

and that's where I'll be, that's where i am, that's where you left me, and i will thrive here, i will build an army, i will cherish this ground of shit gifted to me in spite, i will use it against you, i will feed it so it expands, desecrates your church land, i will forge weapons out of mud and disease, i will grow soldiers out of your feces and saliva, i will take your waste, and I will turn it against you,
we will rise, we will find you, we will take back all that you've murdered, we will reclaim the wilderness, we will pass judgement on you, and in your final moments, you will see it in my eye, you will call it out, you will Remember Me Feral, you will Remember Me Feral, you will name me all that is wrong with your controlled environment, you will call me a virus, you will label me the antichrist, and i will cherish you for it, before i destroy you and feed you to my waste warriors, we will consume you, we will consume ourselves, and all that will be left, is wild, untamable, wilderness, and in the brilliance of the pattern, we will live, and we will Remember All Feral.

movement.

Whether we acknowledge it or not, we are a movement.

A movement that is not unified by a common vision, but by a common enemy. This enemy miseducates your children, teaches you that life is about the pursuit of money. This enemy controls your life through violence, manipulates your actions and desires. This enemy has created a controlled environment for you to live in, in which you are systematically utilized as a resource.

Label it what you want, corporatism, capitalism, republicans, democrats, western civilization, machine culture, it doesn't matter. Each of us must spend time identifying this enemy for our self, beyond simple labels and buzzwords. What matters is that we are unified in our desire and instinct for dissent against a clear, well defined, and personalized enemy. This is warfare.

Identify and embrace what you love, what stands between you and it, and dissent. Spend time acknowledging your natural talents and your current skill set, define the tactic that is appropriate to you, and live by it. Whether its making food for activists, handing out fliers, organizing events, spiking trees, blowing up dams, making art, writing, it doesn't matter. Identify, engage, and live by it.

Do something. If you do nothing and you are just a passive arm of the enemy. If that is your choice, so be it, we will see you on the battlefield.

This life is warfare, and we mean to live by it.

the other side

I am from the forgotten district of western cascadia, on the other side of the wall of dead cops and past the lake of pretend smiles.

Here normal people camouflage doesn't work, and everyone is ashamed.

We hide our faces in hollowed coconuts and dance around deep forest fires. We accept our cowardly ways and punish ourselves. We'll continue to do so until the tallwoods tell us otherwise.

We kill machines that we've stolen from the normal side, and drown those who come looking.

I came here after my smiler broke and my heart withered. When i could no longer dance among the plastic dead, nor hide beneath intoxication. I can't return, my way has been forgotten and the crumbs I left to find my way back have long been eaten by spirit crows who darken my path with circling shadows.

Waiting to pounce when I've forgotten.

This is the wasteland of shattered hearts. We are broken here, diseased, and we lash back at those who have cracked us with lashes. This is the wasteland, the other side, where our freedom is obtained by way of desperate separation.

It is wild here, and though we are lost, we will not be forgotten. You'll remember us through our story. And we'll remember you through yours.

When the talltrees have tired of you, they will shake loose the roots of your lifecities. As your buildings crumble in, we'll watch from the otherside, laughing and dancing, and you'll hear us through the screams and chaos. The skies will cry red and the fires will rage high, and as your system dismantles, you will Remember Us Feral.

feast

they're feasting on me. on my wrinkled spirit.
seeking out any faint presence of a unique characteristic.
they feed on individuality until all that's left is one of them.

they're feasting on me, enveloping me.

i live in between them and me. they've eaten enough that i've become seperate from myself.
but not enough that i've gone lost amongst them.

when the tide turns

when the tide turns, i will find you.
among flowers blooming on industrial wreckage,
on moss swallowing concrete,
i will walk to you.

the open sky will illuminate your beauty,
through spring buds on fresh vines
your presence will be celebrated
by the return of migratory songbirds.

when the tide turns
i will no longer play dead.
my roots will erupt through broken foundations
cradling your soft spirit, allowing all your splendor to grow.



--

weary

I love you.
In capacities experienced only by the dwellers of the deep, ocean creatures unfound and unimagined.
Yet, imagined to be unfound, found to be unimagined.

I see you.
With a weary heart I've marched towards your castle in the sea.
With every step i think your touch will set me free.
But with every step, i perish, taken by the sea.
The waves have worn the sands of heart, granules lost to me.

I fear when i arrive to you, I'll be gone.