A Quest for my Philosophy

​This is another dimension

Oxygen is green.

It’s a beautiful planet.

My ears begin to burn

Gently like a candle flame

As I step onto the plains.

The burning seeps down

Down to my neck

And it caresses my skin

While Molten mercury 

Swims through the hairs

On my head
Darkness lights up the sky,

And my eyes focus onto random points

In the widening dark.

Nobody on this planet matters

But you.

It’s so silent

And you can hear everything

That comes within the radius

Of the dimension.

All the sounds have an etymology,

And I seek to find it

With my bright and burning ears.
I hear the pulse

Prodding against my pitiful veins.

Those hands seem so heavy, light 

And sophisticated

Like a painting.

The air in this planet is invisible,

And yet, it feels a murky green.

I can feel the air go in

Into the lungs and wreak gentle Havoc.

The air comes out through my senses

I feel my eyes

Dozing off but they want to stay awake

At the same time.
They navigate

The lines and contours 

Of the books, music and paintings

And colourful dullness 

On the thin gray wisps of smoke.

This planet is extraordinary,

Every feeling has its source

Just like every sound

And images that

Hit the tubes in the eyeballs.

Do they even have tubes?
The horizon isn’t very far.

I dont know how I landed on this planet.

But my body is exhausted

With listening, looking and feeling.

The call for food 

Lurches out of my stomach,

Straight into the brain.

This planet has food.

The tastiest food.

You don’t even look at it

And you’re sated.

I find it sitting in boxes,

Orange flavoured cupcakes,

Orange behind green peels.

It highlights every part of my mouth

As it squelches pulp

Around the palate and ridges,

And churns it’s existence in weird shapes

Inside my mouth.

The taste never leaves

And I need some air.
The oxygen is flushed out 

Of my green lungs

And I want to run with my eyes closed

Upwards.

The planet has no gravity.

But something pulls you down

Like a giant palm holding you down

And I don’t feel the need to fly.

I’m just walking with my eyes

Scanning the pavement made of gold

And a feeling bumps into me.

I feel his warm shoulder rub against mine.

He climbs into me

And I find two bodies in one.

I can feel all the heat in this cold

And it burns my chest 

With an ice like burst.
The feeling stays in me

And lingers before disappearing.

He leaves.

On my way to the horizon

I meet various feelings,

And they lock into me

Before making way for others.

It is a custom of this planet

To associate with all the fellow feelings

Before reaching the horizon.

The horizon as I see it

Is a brilliant overlap

Of orange, gold and yellow,

Like the burning object over a sea

Painted by William Turner.
I feel extreme pleasure

And even the darkest feelings 

Are associated with joy.

This is when I learn

That the silver linings behind the clouds

Are the rays of the sun.

The blazing sun 

Standing as a flag for the planet

I find myself fluttering 

With my hands 

Which seem to be able to take

The strains and pressures.

Everything that I do comes with the 

Gift of pleasure.

Even the numb pains

Behind my ears 

Are dabbed with warmth.

This planet wreaks patience and pleasure.
I still haven’t reached the horizon

And I cross the 

Green trees and creepers

Cacti and fungus

Grown from a Jurassic era.

I hear musiclike sounds

Faint notes of Guitar and stuff

Rising out of my ears.

The occultuous planet

Has planted a music system in me

And the music rises out 

Like a string of warm notes.
I need more food

And I stop for a bite.

I don’t eat anything,

But I can imagine it and my stomach

Is filled

With the memories

Of the melodic tastes.
I walk on

And I feel like puking

But I don’t want to.

This place is too clean to spill

My green Ogre like soup

Won’t make it better.
So I walk ahead,

And march into the horizon

As the sun beats on my ears.

The feelings have dissolved 

From through my back

And have disappeared.
The folks here are invisible

But only exist if I want them to.

And I don’t want them to,

So they are absent.

The only ones existing are the ones

That matter.

But even here, noone apprehends

My language of the mind,

The philosophy.

I finally reach the horizon,

And it’s a haze

Of yellow, orange and red,

I cannot see anything

Because I don’t want to.

One thing I need,

Is oxygen.

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