Posted in Writings

Dimensionality – A Lyme-Brained Rhyme Game (6/10)

Part IV

An Extended Thought On Existence And The Human Experience

“The Universe is under no obligation to make sense to you.”

“…and quite frankly, neither am I.”

The Geographic Categorization Of Society

As with many of my more existential trains of thought, this one began while I was watching an episode of the animated television series Rick And Morty. The series is about a mad scientist-type grandpa named Rick who goes on wacky sci-fi adventures with his idiotic grandson Morty. In the show, Rick has a gun that shoots portals which lead to what he calls alternate dimensions; what I saw, though, was Rick traveling to alternate universes, not necessarily dimensions. Ah, to be lost in the world of words…

Anyway, ‘Other universes aren’t a different dimension,’ I thought to myself, correcting an animated character’s speech.’ A dimension is… what is a dimension, technically?’ This thought prompted me to look up the definition of a dimension, which is as follows: an aspect or feature of a situation, problem, or thing., everyone; that is literally the vaguest and most open-ended definition to a word I have ever read, it could apply and be applied to anything.

Before we continue, this text is literally me scribing a lengthy train of thought filled with various ideas that may or may not necessarily have scientific backing. In essence, this is a rambling, and if it doesn’t quite make sense to you, rise above and make sense of it; or don’t, I’m not going to force you. If you’re reading this in pursuit of the one ultimate and undeniable truth about the Universe, well, I’m flattered, but please look elsewhere. And if you find it, kindly let me know where it is.

With that said, I will now “apply dimensionality” to “the geographic categorization of society” – one must board the train somewhere.

You are reading this thought, a product of a human society which exists between the second and third societal dimensions, but let’s back up. A zero-dimensional society, the one given for all other societies to exist, is a nomadic society. This is a group of intelligent lifeforms who stay together but do not stay in one place, instead living their lives following food and water to suit their needs for survival. If/when these lifeforms eventually decide to settle down and become more agricultural, their society enters into the first dimension. A one-dimensional society is a tribal society; a group of humans that exist together inside a contained geographical area that exists within a bigger land mass, or continent.

This continent, eventually, will sprout many of these tribal societies, each with its own culture. Some of these tribes will be friendly and open towards one another and some… won’t, but at the end of the day, they all learn to co-exist until they begin merging together under peaceful terms. If they don’t learn to coexist, one or more of these tribes may begin exterminating the other tribes to eventually claim the entire landmass to themselves; either outcome marks the process of entering into the second dimension.

A two-dimensional society is a nationalistic society, a society which exists on one (or eventually multiple) land mass(es) contained on a planet. Depending on the planet, there may be few or many land masses, each potentially with its own society (or societies) running on its (or their) own cultures. Like the aforementioned one-dimensional society, these more nationalistic societies coexist with each other until they eventually merge (whether peacefully or violently) to form into a three-dimensional society, one which exists on a global scale. In my mind, in a true three-dimensional society, every single specific settlement on every single specific landmass is united and working together, likely in an attempt to spread to other planets where they may or may not find other independent societies of potentially higher dimensions. Each of these specific societies will probably have a unique, if not slightly borrowed, form of culture, too.

Following the train to its next stop, once a three-dimensional society merges with (or is taken over by) the societies inhabiting the other planets in the solar system, it becomes a four-dimensional society. This level of society, if it were to/does exist, would need to have technology far more advanced than our current human society can even comprehend, along with a bottomless supply of numerous physical resources and limitless free energy. It gets bigger though; a five-dimensional society would then encompass all star systems in an interstellar neighborhood, which is one of many parts of a larger galaxy. A galactic society, in our case a society encompassing the entire Milky Way Galaxy, would be considered a six-dimensional society.

Going up in societal dimensions from there, we have a society encompassing our local group (fifty-four galaxies), then all of the galaxies in the Virgo Supercluster (roughly one hundred local groups), then all of the galaxies in the Laniakea Supercluster (one hundred thousand galaxies), until it finally encompasses the entire observable Universe, which is thought to contain two trillion galaxies. These societies would be seven-, eight-, nine-, and finally ten-dimensional societies, respectively. We can actually take one more theoretical step from there and enter into the eleventh dimension of society, a society which exists throughout the entire Universe, so long as more of the Universe exists outside of what we humans can currently observe.

Grape Flavored Candies

All that said, let us pause for a moment in order for me to tell a quick story. Close your eyes if you can do so and continue reading and imagine you’re a human-like creature called a… called a Wah. After wandering through the forests for an unrecordable amount of time, you were adopted into a nomadic group of other Wahs called… Wahs Always Huntin’, and together you eventually settle down and claim an area for yourselves… stay with me here.

Your tribe operates in the middle of North America in a time approaching modernity and, being Wahs, you have the uncanny ability to infiltrate civilizations and societies – especially human ones – and assimilate all the lifeforms until they turn into Wahs, essentially spreading like a virus and completely taking over everywhere you can. Veni vidi vici, am I right?

After a few years of colonizing tribal villages in the forests, your tribe comes upon a small town nestled in a little clearing. This is a town of humans, as no other higher form of life would be desperate enough to colonize Earth, and in this specific town, all the humans gather in a white building every Sunday for a guy dressed up in a costume to shout at them and read them stories; this is but one example of the strangeness of humanity. One could call the human species a conundrum, were they so motivated, but I digress.

You, the alien outsider observing as these humans participate in their very foreign culture (foreign compared to your own, that is), become extremely confused and afraid for their survival. What’s more, you decide they’re a lost cause, they’re hopelessly beyond helping themselves. You convince your leader to launch an assimilation, which is successful. From there, us Wahs move on to the eventual assimilation of all the towns in the state, and all the states in the country, then all the countries on the continent of North America. Can’t stop there though – there are more dumb humans out there. So, the now Wah-Assimilated Humans launch a global assimilation operation and come out on top, taking over the planet as the dominant lifeform; we moved from the bottom dimension to the third dimension just like that. Who’s fuckin’ wit’ da Wahs?

Following suit, our society then moves on to our solar system and up and up and up until it controls the entire physical Universe. Then, we stop our assimilating for two fucking seconds and start celebrating – we made it, eleventh dimension baby! Our society’s taken over the entire physical Universe! We are The Domain, we have civilizations on every single inhabitable planet in Existence and resource generation on all of the uninhabitable ones. It wasn’t easy, but we took life by the balls and spread our civilization everywhere, assimilating everything else on the way, and we fucking won.

Now what?

All of our society’s greatest generals and philosophers gather together for discussion and they come up with two options: either we can look back at the journey and try to figure out what the point of it all was, or we can explore this thing called the Multiverse that our clever sciencey bois just figured out, thus allowing us to further expand our society, our knowledge base, and of course, our control. Being how we are Wahs and how the idea of a universe that we don’t control is sickening to us (now that we control an entire Universe, that is), we decide to delve into the Multiverse. Set your phasers to fun, because this is about to get stupid.

Once we break through that four-dimensional wall and enter into an alternate universe, we need a way to understand it. Since our society has been using dimensions thus far, why don’t we call the universe(s) parallel to our Universe the twelfth dimension? And then the collection of universes parallel to that (or those) would be the thirteenth dimension, and so it goes on and on until we’re locked in the fetal position trying to figure out what the color purple smells like! Thus the conquerors continue on, taking over every conceivable universe parallel to our own until the entire Multiverse (our Universe’s entire Inner Rim) is under control of the Wahs. Can’t stop there though, there are more multiverses are contained within the Omniverse, the Outer Rim of sorts – there’s more work to do.

“But,” one of the generals exclaims before jumping into the blue and red swirling portal that is slowly but surely turning into a solid purple mass, “we’ve been going for a while now, so if y’all philosophical types want to, yous can hang back in our original Universe while the rest of us continue on, cool? Get to thinkin’ !”

As you watch the assimilation teams jump through their portals leading to a place on a rock floating in a parallel space floating in… more space, I suppose, that question comes back to you: what was the point of it all?

Unable to come up with an answer by yourself, you begin wandering across the land you stand on until you experience everything it has to offer. Once the first culture is exhausted you move on to the next and so on until you experience everything there is to experience on Earth. Then you move on again, exhausting all the cultures from all the other dimensions of your existential society until you have experienced the Universe Herself. Great!

You check in with the purple portal and the boys aren’t back from taking over the Omniverse yet, so you reflect on all your experiences and begin to philosophize. You realize that you, an original member of the Wah Assimilation Horde back when it was called Wahs Always Huntin’, were only able to experience your entire Universe because you had unbridled access to your society through your past contributions to it. No other lifeform will be able to do what you’ve done, to experience what you’ve experienced; neither will they necessarily want to either, they’re busy building their own cultures and living their own lives, pushing themselves to new heights, and for what? So you can pay them a little visit and experience them to try to figure out the point of life? Maybe… probably not, but mayb-

You are broken from your train of thought by Wahsident Liguey, the head Wah in charge of the culture of your home society. At first he scolds you, but once he realizes who you are, he embraces you in a hug and takes you around his culture, giving you a fabulous tour of everything it has to offer. You try explaining to him that not only have you seen his culture, but that you know more about it than the Wahsident himself, but he will hear none of it and the tour continues on anyway, wasting everybody’s time, money and energy. The Wahsident is a proud Wah, you see; therefore, it must be done.

So, Wahsident Liguey calls up his other Wahsident buddies and they take you on special insider-access tours through all their respective civilizations, but again and again you tell them you’ve seen it all. After touring your Universe a second time over, you bring your Wahsidential party to the portal and the collective Wahsidents all gather around you. One of them steps up and asks what they can do to please you, and all you can come up with is: “Tell me, what is the meaning of all of this? What is the meaning of being alive?”

The Wahsidents nervously look back and forth at one another, unsure of what to say. Just then, the assimilation team comes back through the portal with astounding news: they conquered the Omniverse! But, they discovered the once-theoretical Gigaverse is actually real, and now obviously they have to conquer that. Again, the Wahs Against Hlifeforms offer you a choice: stay here and think, or come and join the party. You look at all the Wahsidents in front of you, the masters and architects of their own cultures all trying their hardest but still failing to give the answer to your question. Then, you jump into the portal and a certain scent hits your nose, a scent reminiscent of grape flavored candies, the ones that don’t taste remotely like grapes but are called grape-flavored regardless.


You see, the way I see it, the philosopher Wah spent his entire life fulfilling the purpose of his life and he didn’t even realize it until after he got everyone else in his Universe involved. For a Wah, a hypothetical creature who has the ability to take over (especially human) societies, the purpose of life would clearly be to take over all the societies and, by extension, expand said societies to take over more societies. Why else would they exist naturally equipped with such tools and abilities? The same goes for predators with their sharp claws and teeth made for tearing flesh, and for monkeys with their thumbs for climbing trees to escape said predators; creatures are born with certain body parts that give them certain abilities and attributes that allow them to survive and prosper, so wouldn’t the point of their lives be to use what they’ve got?

That isn’t to say the sole point of a monkey is to climb trees simply because it has thumbs, but rather, maybe climbing trees is part of the purpose of a monkey’s life.

A fish is born with gills so it can live surrounded by water just like a human being is born with lungs to live surrounded by air; these mechanisms are required for the body to function, yes, but they are still part of life for these lifeforms. A fish, generally speaking, has its purpose in the food chain of its environment. That is the main purpose of a fish’s life: to swim, eat smaller fish, circulate water, breed, be eaten, et cetera; these are the things a fish’s brain is capable of doing. A fish is quite the complex organism, too; biology in and of itself is indescribably intricate and complex, and don’t even get me started on consciousness. Nobody knows how fuckin’ consciousness works. If reincarnation is a thing like everybody’s said it was until a certain group of white-skinned humans started dressing in costumes and telling stories on Sundays, and I’m reborn into a fish, I will do nothing but swim, eat, breed, and die, and I suggest you do the same if you find yourself in a similar situation.

Then again, if you are born as a fish with the ability of abstract thought, well… my next point.

Human beings, aside from having the capabilities of traversing, manipulating, and understanding our given pocket of Existence on levels unlike the lifeforms we share our planet with, have brains capable of complex and metaphysical thought that influence how we manipulate our Universe. Other lifeforms have brains that are clearly capable of some sort of thought too, some of them capable of fairly impressive feats when not compared to our own. Beavers build functioning dams out of logs and sticks; humans build concrete towers tall enough to crash airplanes, another human invention that allows massive amounts of humans to travel by air, into. Elephants, given the facilities, can paint pictures of fruit; humans, given the facilities, can make a three-dimensional printer that, given the facilities, can literally create the fruit the elephants are painting, edibility and all. Apes in the jungle live together in large colonies and build nests and beds for themselves; humans create societies that are (sort of) governed by different sets of rules across the entire globe, each following its own complex and unique ideology. Some species are capable of comparatively more impressive feats than humans as well, although I have less examples to give. Humans can create wearable objects to help blend into their environment; octopi can change the color and texture of their octolegged bodies at will for camouflage. Humans can communicate through intricate mouth noises and squiggly symbols on paper; dolphins can communicate through clicking noises and echolocation, an organic version of sonar, a human technology; theoretically, there are likely some wildly advanced extra-/ intraterrestrial species capable of communicating telepathically. Do you see my point?

We need to face something, especially those of us who believe there is one sole truth out there, one sole purpose of life, or whatever collection of words you want to use to describe the idea of there being a the truth. The purpose. The answer. I ask you – what part of this ridiculous Universe that we inhabit is so simple that it can be explained with a single statement, with a single answer? Take a beach ball, for example. Just a plain old red, white, and blue inflatable beach ball you would bring to the beach as a kid; it’s just a toy, some air with plastic around it, right?

Kind of, but not really. That plastic is composed of different components which can be broken down into atoms, the building blocks of things, and categorized into elements. Atoms, from the Greek word atomos (meaning indivisible), can be divided down into the three components that make them up: protons, neutrons, and electrons. I’m not going to sit here and pretend I know anything about these three particles besides that two of them have an electrical charge of some sort, but I do know  they can be broken down further into these things called quarks, of which there are six kinds: up, down, strange, charmed, top, and bottom. Quarks cannot be broken down any further, as far as we know, although my mind is open to the possibility that one day, some crazy bastard will discover that which composes a quark.

Anyway, that beach ball was also assembled in a factory (probably by underpaid workers with families and lives as intricate and complex as your own) out of materials that were probably created in a different factory operated by even further underpaid workers with unique and complex lives. Also, you need to take into account the money, time and energy that went into making that beach ball, AND the money, time and energy it will take to make that beach ball disappear after your attention for it has run out – whether it disappears into a landfill, an incinerator, or into the water/soil of the planet you live on. Also, there’s the coloration of red, white and blue, the colors of the American (and a ton of other countries, but I’m from America so the American) flag, which could have an infinite amount of implications depending on which size hat you wear and whether or not that hat has tin foil on it.

The point of all that bullshit about the beach ball, of all this rambling really, is that nothing in Existence, at least as far as I can tell, is simple; especially not life. If you’re reading this it, means you at least got through that bit about the dimensions of society, which even I can admit is fairly fucking convoluted. And the Wah shit? Just go home, get the fuck outta here with that.

If something as mundane as the self-organization of one species of life on this planet on can be organized in such a way by a member of that species who felt compelled to stratify societies based on geographic size and location, one can only imagine how complex that species as a whole must be. So, if there is a purpose to life, to the human experience, then it simply can’t be simple, but at the same time, it has to be, or otherwise the humans would never be able to figure it out. And, like I was talking about before, the purpose of any given thing’s life probably has something to do with what that thing was born with. So let’s roll with that.

Human beings are born into this world with many things, but I see three major biotools, if you will. First is the brain (and head); this experiences thoughts, perceives the Universe, ingests substances, and controls the rest of the body. Next is the torso; this processes substances in order to sustain the body and keep things ticking. Finally we have the limbs, the appendages; these allow the human to carry out its thoughts via the maneuvering through and the manipulating of the Universe.

Tackling them one at a time, let’s start with the torso: the human torso can process a myriad of sources of energy, some only semi-edible, and use them to keep the body alive. The body requires food and water or else it will die and the consciousness will leave it, which it would have eventually over time anyway, regardless of how much one eats and drinks. So far, the purpose of human existence is to live until death, which will come sooner or later… stellar.

Next, limbs: the human’s legs allow it to travel the land and the arms allow it to climb, and when these powers are combined, they can swim as well; since our purpose so far is to live until death, these must be used for getting food and water. So, our purpose is now to find food and water, consume it, process it, expel the waste, and repeat… that’s a little better. The brain is where things get interesting – metaphorically speaking, we have a theoretical infinity motionlessly spinning around the inside of our skulls. We can think about anything; how dimensions work, what matter is made from, aliens from alternate universes that take Psychedelic drugs and travel through the various dimensions of Existence, a purple elephant named Susie Q, whatever. Literally whatever we want!

Get ready for the real magic – when we use all our biotools together, we can (eventually) bring these thoughts into reality, no matter how ridiculous they are. Want a purple elephant? Learn how to modify the DNA of an elephant and name it Susie, then make another elephant that’s more or less identical to the first one and call it Suzie Q. Want to visit extraterrestrials and discover alternate dimensions? Work with the humans who build spaceships and fly out into space, you’re bound to discover something eventually. Want to figure out how matter works? Get a microscope and start from there; reading a few books may help with this one. Do you want to, I don’t know, organize your thoughts about how dimensions work into a written thought process that refuses to stay on topic? Get stoned to the bone and start writing on your laptop, see where you go from there. It’s currently three forty-nine in the morning (approximately one month after I originally started this essay) as I write this, and I’m happy with how it’s concluding. Again, do you see my point?

I hope you do, because if I have to explain it further, then you have no business reading this thought, which probably sounds a little harsh. That being said, if you feel individually offended after reading this thought, well, you likely had no business delving into this poetry anthology either, an anthology which no human being aside from myself could even hope to put together, because they just wouldn’t know HOW to do it.

To end this train of thought, I would like to pose a paraphrased quote. I always rather leave an interaction with someone on a good note and with some substance so we can both leave thinking, and possibly even growing as humans a little bit. Since this is a written piece, I think another quote will do just the trick. Yeah, I’m one of those types. One of those too, if you couldn’t already tell. Anyway, here’s Alan Watt’s words redone in my own,  typed in comic sans because if you can’t take it seriously solely based on the font, well, you probably don’t have any business reading it anyway:

“I like to ask graduates the following question: what would you do if money didn’t matter? If you could choose how to spend your life, what would you choose? Well, after they’ve washed their hands of humanity’s educational system, most ex-students will tell you they’d like to be writers, or painters, or sculptors, or musicians, but everyone knows you can’t make any money that way. Or another human will say, I want to live off the grid and tame horses. So I ask, would you want to teach others how to tame horses too? Let’s do it. What do you really want to do? When we finally get down to what that ex-student really wants to do with their life, I’ll tell them to fucking do it and forget about the money, because if you think money is the most important thing, you will waste your entire life, and worse, you’ll have entirely missed the point of it by the time you croak. You’ll spend your finite time on Earth perpetuating a life you don’t enjoy living, which is asinine. It’s better to live a poor, fulfilling life than an empty life spent counting minutes on a clock, or worse, dollars in a billfold. Life is for the living; if you’re too afraid to live because of a fear of not being able to horde away enough green paper with the faces of dead men printed on them, ask yourself: do you really deserve to live your life?”

Toss A Stone

I like to tell the others,
“Not all those who wander are lost.”

A stone tossed across the still surface of a pond,
skipping along the pristine mirror image of the sky,
until the tension breaks
and takes the stone for a dive.

Pay attention, wanderer,
journeying through the great beyond,
that you don’t encounter something bigger,
out to take you on.
You don’t know what’s out there,
and there’s no need to be alarmed,
but every rock skipped
chances a chase with a swan.

Yes, I tell them,
“Not all those who wander are lost;”
and many lose their way
long before they’ve left at all.
So take a rock and toss it,
there’s plenty to go around;
and if you dome that swan just right,
dinner may be abound.

Beech Tree Buds

A starburst.

One rainfall later,
last week’s gray neighborhood is flooded with life.
Shining like a gemstone,
carved into the shape of a knife,
the sun melts away a brainstorm of dark clouds
with a melancholic lining.

Like an alcoholic choosing life over strifeful boozing,
springtime ignites the fuse on the brightest firework
the Earth will never see.

The sky, a sea of blue
until you punch through to the other side.
She hides a light show of cosmic brilliance
as billions of burning comets and other fireflies
join to birth planets.

Babes of mirth,
future Earths burning in wait for their Mother’s rain
to satiate their thirst.

A starburst.

Run Your Race

Lace up your shoes,
time for feet to hit the pavement.
If you know the ground is solid,
you shan’t expect a cave-in.

The clock is ticking my son,
the race has just begun.
If the starter gun frightens you,
you’re missing all the fun.

Blood pumping,
sweat dripping and teary- eyed from the wind.
Run fast and don’t look back,
I’ll see you at the end.

Cross that finish line in a sprint or in a crawl.
By the balls of your feet,
to yourself you’ve proved it all.

You may not net a trophy,
no medal around your neck,
but you won’t be that loser at the end
answering back,
“I bet.”


Flood in a drought, levee is broke,
beavers’ dam’s washed out.
Knock on wood my good vibes don’t up and run out.

Though I feel by fearing it, I’m really drawing it near;
my rear-view says objects are closer than they appear
so I can either speed up or wait around for the crash.

Yeah, as if that’s what I’m about.

Why not slam on the gas pedal
‘til the tank doesn’t run out?

Icing From A Cup

Very paradoxical times we’re stuck living in,
I look around myself and everywhere it seems evident:
a reality TV star is America’s current president;
burning Marijuana’s as illegal as shooting heroin.

So who’s gonna win?
This fucked up game we’re in.
Stuffed up with stuck-ups and full of shit bluff-nuts
who want nothing more than to win
whatever conversation they’re in;
this conversion of creation from elation to pure hatred,
to inflated egos of the men who love to eat burritos;
or maybe of the women who dislike the brand Fritos;
or maybe of the men banning together to bang the Migos;
or maybe of the transvestites,
in their too-stretched-out tights,
trying to decide whether to start a fight or verbally ignite
the pipe-dreaming cis-demon who made the fatal mistake
of verbally labeling them all as queens.

Want to raise the stakes?
Simply divide and conquer;
conjure up some nonsense and brainwash the populous,
make ‘em think their neighbor’s on the brink of a hate crime
like, “Yo, watch this!”
They’ll take the bait and debate how long it’ll be
‘til their friendly enemy crosses that line;
and when that line is crossed,
they’ll pull out their sauce,
dip their breadsticks so fast that you won’t even pass gas,
forget tryna pass ‘em your home-made Kool-Aid in a glass.

Became a sleuth to deduce
that the truth no longer matters;
it’s all about that rung
that you’ve climbed to on the social ladder.
Who’s ladder? Their ladder,
and definitely not yours.
Otherwise, who’d they get to do all the remedial chores?

My advice: cut it down with a medieval sword.
The old use the young like the tooth uses the gum:
to hold it in place while it turns good food to waste.

They’re all playing a game while we’re trying to live
in an infinite Universe full of wonder and spirit.
They’ve wasted their time and now they’re waking up
to ensure we repeat their cycle,
like eating icing from a cup.


I want to write a poem about the rain after a drought,
but I can’t find the words to express what I’m about.
Writer’s block is a bitch,
it’s a sandwich made of doubt with two slices of fuck you and
the urge to scream and shout.

I guess it’s kind of like a cat who wants a piece of dinner.
She already ate her own and she’s not getting thinner
and she’s clearly never seen food before in her life,
so just cut your meal to pieces and give her a little slice!

That’s a metaphor, the cat’s a crazed man in the sand,
his throat is even drier than the desert where he stands,
and he isn’t even sweating ‘cause he literally can’t
and the hallucinations of oases
are makin’ him shit his pants.

Do you see where I’m going with this? ‘Cause I sure don’t.
I guess I’ll dick around and word this piece into a close.
I don’t know why I tried so hard to write this little poem.
Four blocks of more lines,
water pine to make a cone.


I sat in the Dee-eM-Vee reading 1984 this morning.
The look the policeman shot me
felt an awful lot like a warning.

But the government’s not an overlord,
just a corporation in sheep’s clothing
that’s in the business of their subjects,
always ordering and controlling.


When I say I walk on water, I’m referring to when it freezes;
I bear resemblance to the man,
but I do not claim to be Jesus.

I am but a simple shaman,
a native American man,
living on the same piece of land
once dominated by my clan.
Many eons ago,
thousands of years in the past,
before the white man came and turned it all into trash.

Living in a fever dream,
my ancestors speak to me.
They say,
“Live your life. Nothing’s really as it seems.”


The scarlet glow ridicules the darkness.

A burned bridge is swallowed by the gorge,
yet it follows him across.

It knows no bounds,
clutching his heart like the winter’s frost does the moss,
guiding his feet along the path.
Memories of past lives echo through the night,
bringing him back to sunny days
spent barricaded in a cave as its hooves
draw ever closer.

The future a figment,
presently past the need for closure.

Through hallowed halls
lined with shattered windows, it leaks in.
The moonlight grows dim as he finds himself at a dead end.
He waits, petrified and bleak,
for the end that always persists.

The greatest trick the devil played
was convincing him it exists.


She reeks vehemently of soot and ash.
Smoke leaks from her ears as a fire blazes inside her.
Not quite feared nor respected by her peers,
known of but not known,
raised by wolves into an enigma
to the faint of heart and shallow of mind.

Behind her blank face a war wages,
the calm nothing more than a facade for the storm.
Thunder cackles as lightning crashes into a sea
of untold treasures and terrors alike;
sadness, ecstasy, spite, bravery,
her own brand of insanity wrapped up
in a bent little package, and the cost?
But a cent,
merely a penny for your thoughts.

Facing demons of a man-like demeanor
whilst drowning out the voices in her head
leaves little room for a closetful of skeletons.
Perhaps, could we stuff them in the shed?
Don a new skin,
softer than the pelt yet tough enough to feel the things
most others have not felt?

I know you hear us darling, we’re only here to help.

Thin Ice

The sky is that certain shade of gray today;
closer to white and mostly blank,
like a piece of my open notebook’s page.

Pale blue spots reflect off the icy surface of the pond
upon which I stand,
which I ran onto with haste and now I stand
with the grace of a swan,
white as a poltergeist and frozen like a statue,
like a sculpture of ice.

I don’t remember how long it takes the lake to freeze,
since November it’s been solid for a couple of weeks.
I thought I would make it back before I sneezed and,
like a dry leaf,
the ice cracked beneath my feet,
leaving me up a creek without a life raft, a paddle,
or even a bag of weed.

Now I’m uncertain,
this very well may be curtains,
how the hell will I survive when it seems
like death is lurkin’?

I hold my breath and step light before igniting a sprint,
in hopes the ice won’t crack
just to race me to the finish.

Hello Commons, this has been the fourth part of A Lyme-Brained Rhyme Game, a satirical poetry anthology about an author journeying to a horrifying place: his own mind. Lyme-Brained is the third book of the First Spiral, a longer story called The Highest One Writing.

The Highest One Writing is a story about an author told through the books he wrote. It starts with a self-help book and ends with the destruction of Existence. Also, it may or may not take you to the depths of insanity and back.

Lyme-Brained is available to read for free in its entirety on my website. Click here to check it out.

I’ve written a few other books, too. Click here to see the list.

If you like Lyme-Brained and would like to help support my work, click here and buy an autographed copy (or anything else!) from my store. Alternatively, you can snag a cheaper (and unsigned) copy from Amazon by clicking here, OR you can buy the ebook for even cheaper here.

If you’re there, hypothetical reader, thank you for being there. Be well Commons~


I'm that guy who makes fiction books so he doesn't go insane.

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