12:34 a.m.

the weight of dead air lurking within the dark hovers
until the cold gravity of another day gone
gives way
allowing the regrets to slowly crush down upon my chest

causing each breath that used to dance between sleeping and dreaming

to limp in silent midnight residue
and each murmur within my heart
to slowly care less and less

fire water

mother nature is frustrated and angry

father time chuckles and smirks

while we blissfully stumble through our daze

as if our self importance actually exists

... .thurlo.

so tired all of the time

geek gods within kaleidoscope skies toil

shooting stars vibrate against my thigh
pixelated fireworks cascade from my hand

yet you focus on everything that went wrong
this night

and you also wonder why
i am so tired
all of the time

... .thurlo.

i am the pen

i am the pen

that bridges my essence

onto paper

i am the brush

that climaxes - exhausted

onto canvas

i am my own ism

i am my own god

i am my own universe

bleeding internally

whispering out loud

listen to me

...from the collection 'untilted'

 - .thurlo.

soul ducat

the value of art

appraisement in the head or

cherished in the heart

... .thurlo.

empty demographics

aspirations
as drunk and as strong
  as the ale in
    which they swim

and as fragile
  as the sweaty dirt brown bottles
    that cradle them

aspirations
thrive within comfortable intoxication
  and die bitterly upon
    the chilly foggy morn

and life gets older and life gets tired
  and life loiters
    while the bones break down in silence

instant gratifications
obloquy consumptions and dark servile mutilations
outdated within the populated
  resides the obvious emptiness that no one is portraying
mindful souls left feeling underrated

  inculcated and without a sky to rise to

empty drinks
empty voices
empty souls
empty dreams
empty hearts
  ready to perish within the night

- ... .thurlo.

time with all its residuum concepts

art seems to always find a way to leak out of me.  i have a ton of these surreal doodles, found this one lurking beneath a bunch of old drawings.  forgotten and almost lost.  i will from time to time just draw without any discernible direction.  i will from time to time just write without any apparent bearing.  good for my soul to just let it flow.

time with all its residuum concepts
is not invited
life with all its gravity
is without law
souls with all its fleshy armor
are left breathless and lingering high

 - .thurlo.