one day we'll go back.

and carve our names;
let our existance be known.
This is our sanctuary,
Our home, our world.
It belongs to us.
Regardless of the ground from which it sprung,
In spite of the sun that reaches its shade.
Our love has encased Haven from rains that follow.
its creator-the earth.
Your submission under me conquered its terrain.
I’ve destroyed lips that warrant worship.
scarred knees, quaint as the clouds.
filled your body, to vanquish that thirst.
a thirst for slavery.
you are mine.
And this ours.

I come inside her, we lay on our bed of blankets and grass. the body heat dissipating and the cold creeping in. I hold her.
she looks into my begging eyes,
"there is this world,"
and my hand trails to the echoes of civilization,
"and then there is that world."
her eyes follow the direction, the words are picked up by a breeze of trangression.
"this is my domain. here, now, with you at my side. it is Being. but, see,
you belong to both places-and not simultaneously.I have been cast out from the simple act of exhaling. everything that has become you is rooted in that world. I cannot take you from which you grow. you will be left to stagnate and starve, with me as your witness. you've known this, always. though you act as if this polarity is of no importance-that our fractured meetings in time are sewn together, seamlessly."
her nose nestles into the valley of my chest. my hands are cold, and my heart fights to be nearer.

Francon.

"Roark, I can accept anything, except what seems to be the easiest for most people: the halfway, the almost, the just about, the in-between. They may have their justifications. I don't know. I don't care to inquire. I know that it is the one thing not given to me to understand. When I think of what you are, I can't accept any reality except a world of your kind. Or atleast a world in which you have a fighting chance and a fight on your own terms. That does not exist. And I can't live a life torn between that which exists-and you. It would mean to struggle against things and men who don't deserve to be your opponents. Your fight, using your methods-and its too horrible a desecration. It would mean doing for you what I did for Peter Keating: lie, flatter, evade, compromise, pander to every ineptitude-in order to beg of them to let you live, to let you function, to beg them, Roark, not to laugh at them, but to tremble because they hold the power to hurt you. Am I too weak because I can't do this? I don't know which is greater strength. To accept all this for you-or to love you so much that the rest is beyond acceptance. I don't know. I love you too much."

the sand gives way.
our foot steps are hidden by the oaks that overhang.
theres an old boat that's been left to decay in the waters of the lake. its bow stands mightly above the water's murky reach.
the small waves reach our toes.
I speak.
one day all of this will be gone. I hope I'm not alive to see it.
she doesn't say a word, just clears her throat. her hair is untamed and soft. reminds me of a lions mane. her skin blends with the bleached sand.
her eyes meet god in the sky.
can we stay here?
depends on how long you have in mind.
I want to go further. get lost. from the boats, the litter, the cars, the voices, the airplanes, helicopters, and away from the sun. deep into the jungle where the trees make their home.
we walk. I slash. we enter.
the oaks and palms tower high above us. the magnolias, in bloom, fill the thick air with their magnificent perfume. this is where we are meant to survive. the sun's rays struggle against the foilage to make their mark upon the forest floor. ponds and small canals flow through the endless field of ferns.I've entered a cavern that glows a spectrum of greens. no darkness could hide its beauty.
I wish I was high right now.
no darkness.
why?
because I'd prolly go insane and end up getting eaten by an alligator.
no darkness could hide this-she laughs.
um. what?
the colors. they change. from neon, to drab. its like looking through a kaleidoscope.
sooo... where does the alligator come in?
the ticks. I can feel them on my legs.
OH MY GOD, WHAT?
I just imagine if I was high, I'd probably end up flailing in the lake.
...can we go now?
hold on.
I try to take it all in. my home. this is where I belong.
our species started here. then we imagined power. we imagined control. we imagined superiority.
we became lost in a lucid dream.
now we are ruled by gods that we buy, elect, or worship; ruled by gods that we aspire to be.
can we go now?
yeah. lets go.
all there is in prison, is darkness. might as well dream.

borders.

No, not the store, but the invisible boundaries created by the establishment that enforces its laws upon us.

"The establishment, a corporate investment.
The establishment, just one large police force."
What a great corporate message of their own they could put out.

Borders are to recognize different establishments unwillingness to sacrifice power.
sometimes borders are treated as what they are, imaginary lines-in the case of most south american countries, Iraq, Vietnam, Afghanistan. all know too well, whether from current or historical situations.

although the establishment recognizes borders, when its convenient, the corporate entity that it relies on, does not.
globalization has become rampant and the illusion that the local establishments govern these enities is slowly but surely disolving-since we are forced to consume now. through taxation, the establishment steals what we are "owed" and feeds the dying corporate monster that it relies on. whether we buy or protest, they'll get our money either way. this is our fate in a welfare state. the only way to truely escape would be to drop out of the system-or be a native american-either way would be effective from escaping this black hole.

I think about how budding socialist countries were crippled by governments around the world. how nationalization of resources and many services was never an option. it just shows how transparent even the establishment sees itself; just a sheep in wolf's clothing. the corporate strongholds will never allow the world to be owned by the people, a nation, or absent of ownership entirely. they only see one option and its to rule and own everything. a grandeur delusion-a very detrimental one, at that, to everyone.

conflicting edits.

woke up at 450.
got dressed.
picked up my body armor and slung it across my shoulders.
it was warm and snug.
but heavy.

I grabbed my ACH and headed out the door.
the air was cold and bit at my cheeks. didn't mind it much though, it made me feel more alert. as I came to the stairs, they seemed to give under the extra weight on my shoulders. I carefully made my way to the base of the steps and started walking steadily towards the company-to get my M16.
I walked through the back and greeted my comrades with a colorful selection of curse words. a smile came across their tired faces as I plopped into a chair.

we drew our weapons. we grabbed our magazines.
loaded into the LMTV and headed to the range.
8 hours later, we were finished. it was fucking hot and humid as hell. the only thing I could hear out of my left ear was the ringing of 40 rounds-shoulda remembered to put in the ear plugs, dumbass. I was weary, sweaty, hungry, and dying for a drink-and still had a 20 minute drive on the back of that fucking truck.

on the way back is when we caught a glimpse. sirens.

sirens.
sirens.
maybe there was a fire.
who knows, who cares.

we arrived back at the company to find out there had been shootings near the theater.
12 dead.

holy shit.

I pondered the irony of my appearance combined with the coincidence of the current situation.
I stand there, with a semi-automatic weapon in my hands and 50 pounds of body armor on my person-many of us were-and I wasn't even capable of defending myself. I guess you're never safe.

the entire installation was locked down, air conditioning was turned off, and every door was secured from the inside. I really wanted food and a shower- the comfort of my bed and a soft voice to comfort me to sleep; instead I was sitting on the floor of the orderly room, eating girl scout cookies and wondering why people insist on using violence as a tool to solve their troubles.

why can't we be content, as a global community, with our surroundings and what happiness they can bring? why is it so hard to help each other instead of exploiting? I suppose somethings can't change under the circumstances of today. what a shame, what a shame.