Introduction:
Before writing: previously i tried an experimental stream of consciousness piece but the combination of listening to instrumental hip hop beats and incorporating rhyme just made it a weird psychotic poem with run-on paragraphs instead of stanzas. this time i will be trying to stick to the truer purer experimental stream of consciousness but emphasizing incorporated mild auditory hallucinations or at least ‘othered’ internal dialogue. basically, when i ‘hear’ speech in my mind’s ear which doesn’t seem to come from my physical environment, so it isn’t a true hallucination in that sense, but it is a literal voice in my head.
After writing: as you can see sometimes these voices just like to throw in some rhymes even when i’m trying to hold that back. there’s like layers or textures to these aspects of my cognition. there’s the othered voice, sometimes more literally like ‘hearing’ something, sometimes more like words merely popping into my head intuitively (and there’s levels to that, as well, from more instinctive to more contemplative). there’s a tendency for repetition which i did sort of ‘edit’ or suppress in real time as i wrote. ‘and’ specifically at the start of each line was something i tried to ‘skip,’ and this in turn changed the flow of those lines such that they sort of morphed into something partly or completely different. as an appendix i’ll include my one successful hypnagogia log (ca. 2010) for comparison with this piece. a hypnagogia is a kind of hallucination, usually auditory, and usually experienced while falling asleep or waking up — so these are true hallucinations that i sort of was able to journal for the span of an hour or half an hour or something as i was drifting off to sleep then forcing myself to wake up, write down a line or two, and then repeat the process.
Poem:
have you ever thought about the missile encapsulating you?
if one shot rang out the world would be deadly.
in a conscript’s eyes the mind would be profane and catalytic.
and so the rhythm begets the obvious setbacks once ideal.
it’s a nifty turn of phrase but has it ever turned anybody else the other way?
somehow i’ve forgotten the virtue of the assault.
the tactics backtrack the math wearing a mask of solder.
in phrase only the king subsumes the playthings into corporeal realms inhibited.
but somehow holds sway with the new things entombed in catechistic cataclysm.
and sure enough the luck ran out.
the wine turned sour.
the hours whiled away the days while the dazed rays sang harmonics.
and if you were first could you captain the ship?
as if, as always.
today is gonna be another day, treasure.
oh wait it’s gone.
flaming pit whipped into a frenzy without virtue.
who sent you?
someone spent the apocalypse pining for a way out.
better to pine to go out fighting like a man of the ages.
stillness breeds contempt.
like a contemptible snowflake you are.
and some barren rotten.
the nautilus crankshaft apse superb.
superfluent in conjugal herbs variety botanical.
wise beyond the onset of the relapse.
staring into empty space vacuous.
commandeered the eclipse for nefarious business we see again.
and somehow it all rings hollow.
shoutout to apophis.
yearning for a better recoil.
blood boils and festers.
it’s less a reality than a germane attitude.
fixate on the pluracy.
thank God for that one.
if you couldn’t correct the connecting snackbox in design visage then forget it.
bow out yielding like a chump in a salmon outfit flowing upstream to the bear’s jaws.
flexibility annihilates mirror neurons like a cartoon visage of external reality’s inherent flaws in predicate predictable polymath amorphous amorous nightingale prefix sublimity errors.
sometimes he leapt to attention like a trash can lid on steroids.
… and sometimes he slept for days for weeks.
it’s all a particular personal mythology characterized by dramatic idleness and the trauma of directionless sanctimony and parsimoniousness in the spheres of allegory and just cause.
fear for the one, fear for the zero.
fear for all (don’t be a hero).
heroism is prefixed by a standard colloquy intangible to the referential nexus of the gut stabbed apparatus in question.
the body figures out where it’s supposed to be by each step it takes in a direction without order or chaos.
and somehow it ends up just right.
Appendix:
I’ve started writing down what I hear as I’m drifting to sleep. I’m not sure if people typically hear things while falling asleep, but I’m not too worried about it. Here’s what I’ve recorded thus far:
page one:
heh heh heh
when you get in the house, why don’t you get out?
daddy? daddy!
dead bodies.
i feel so bad for you
hes not even trying
the traps i need the traps!
it’s about time
do you wanna dance?
on my command
let’s all have some fun
how is this heretical?
maybe you should look at it this way
remind myself not to finish this sentence
page two:
god have mercy on our souls
… with passion
… the intruders
scrub these walls on either side
this is dangerous
it’s too much to risk
haha ha ha (are you laughing at me?)
i’m presenting you a chance
he’d open them and be like…
what times are these?
but i didn’t torture them
pity
but we didn’t torture them
yeah, looks like i did
ketchup
but you told me to be free
flame
everything’s i’ve seen
stand frozen
page three:
if i’m wrong i’m a rock star god
then i’m a bastard
someone just headed somewhere
fuck
what does it all mean?
i used to grin? (you still grin?)
stephanie
sit down
hospital chair
in our corridor
you’re drunk
it looks like he’s spiffing
let’s do something else
i’m gonna take you back to university’s house (and leave you there)
they’re all gone
the place has got used to them
are you okay?
aahh, i’m a spider’s egg
which step was already one?
we have to go soon
Jay Alejo Writes 