by idXed

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A chemically imbalanced blend of noise, loops and riffs backing high speed spoken word tracks mixed together at random intervals create Idea Defined's Nexus - 56 minutes of poems recited over original soundscapes in the now familiar nightmare that is idXed.


released October 11, 2011




idXed Albuquerque, New Mexico

Acoustichaos Forest Punk vs. Psychegrind Doomind

idXed // Idea Defined is a solo project based solely out of mind. Taking influence from trips to dreams, grind to trip hop, from poetry to paintings and noise to ambiance its aim is to be as free of form as it is strange in style. ... more

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Track Name: Stain
you're always alone in fall
after all
death is a personal endeavor
forever wading in the river Styx
for carnivorous fish
to come feast on flesh fixed in place
until nothing remains
until nothing is left but a mess
your stain on existence
Track Name: Bon
a spectacle for sure
an embarrassment endured for far too long now
unknown like purple clouds against nighttime skies
too hard to see through its own disguise
it's there that this feeling exists
reminding our partial tool
that it hates itself for being deep any time it feels deep

she, he, them, it, you, me, us, we
replace, ignore, transcend
deplore the meaning of every other word said now or before
each one a figure treated as crown
just the defining ground, outline of clown
running struck by gravity of his own thoughts

and now fall endless and nameless
through tracks hidden from consumers
like balls of hard tissue
fueled by what's inside of you
riddled with the disease we deem life

and now define an extension of meaning outdated
as soon as it blazes relevant to topics at hand
messages transmitted quicker than fingers in sockets
and even faster than that they're lost through time
at the immense cost of communicating thought
again lost, lost again

attachment at every turn
a fire that burns on private energy
leached from the young
still unstung by wasps of the region
who teach truth as it is not

just a rotting resemblance of respect
to whatever never gave a fuck about whatevers outside

an image vintage in now
a paradox in knee high socks
always more real in fact
than you think yourself, than I think mine
so that we are the facade
divided within and without, among and against
cracking between links of being and thinking
of acting and observing

again sitting here hating myself
for thinking that I am real when I FEEL real
still clueless
don't know what's the deal

I'm left proof reading every sentence
so that no consequence is left simple
like writing rough drafts
I wanna peel off my face
destroy my mask show you who I am but can't

every effort I feel gets me closer to the truth
is just an obstacle propelling me further away from who?

my philosophy haunts me constantly
Track Name: At Large
Emptiness fills my vision
As numbness starts to set in

Terrified but trapped inside
The shell that I've become
Comfort is the only
Thing worth running from
Track Name: Upstairs
not all seeds need to be planted
eternal imprints taken for granted
because instructions aren't always evident
when industry is hell bent on production

turn a blind eye to evil minds
and even in the center of such a mess
age old attempts at doing what's best
preserve an art long before it's dead

not all trees die when uprooted
transplant what's been stomped flat
between pages of information immune to dust
stuffed on shelves behind closed doors
just waiting for another reason to score

yet another impact of sorts resulting in
beautifully arranged decor
slowing a deranged core
nonstop orgy of advice
flowing from a face enticed
by the weight of its own gushing memories
draining itself in the melting of wax
of a candle fueling its own combustion
no longer holding tears back
to confirm the act of becoming
but instead
being the flame, the candle and the wax
Track Name: Thieves
just an homage of sorts
to an influence whose impact on me was absurd
it was eastern in part
careless in rest
a man who drank himself to death
caffeine and sugar for me
no nicotine
though I don't believe
I've chosen my poisons all that diligently
strive not drink my liver obsolete

ironically enough the source of his book for me
was a friend of mine whose hometown, I found
to look like none other as Joey would claim
but I feel it as real as you wouldn't the same

all in all I realized today
these lyrics have become pseudo-cliche
the simplicity I seek is reflected in the way
I speak through paper and pen and mind
through what I spend time being, pursuing
songs for the sake of singing along and aloud
to all or none enjoying and feeling
the idea of bus station poetry is most appealing
Track Name: Gradient Between
drawing from blanks, from this draw turned mini-lake
for our village's sake
still reflecting an almost full moon
like vanity mirrors
exposing life to all of its own beauty
between crisp air
no flow, heavy though
heavy with premonitions of precipitation

forming to the west is an ocean in the sky
draining beaches dry
on the other side
east, where only sands lie

waiting where the gradient between two extremes
is everything

where articulate brush strokes
are the background to backgrounds
below a silhouette of being
reaching for the moisture above
in the atmosphere lifting away from the surface
flying through every sphere until getting trapped up there

where the gradient between two extremes
is everything

ghostly apparitions in groups of four
stallions charging from hell
arched for holy wars against the storm
forming opposite of them

imaginary dreamscapes in waking states
secreting nightly secrets
in shades of pink, violet and grey
over rolling fields of green
sprinkled with specks of yellow, of blue

of wings whirling around before seasons end
to freeze motion until it finally thaws
again free to wither within routine
within cycles, rotations, habits
to watch DNA spiral
a flow inside of flows

as a strand of hair plucked from mountaintops
fading into the abyss that always is
connecting vast bodies to their molecular structures
to the explosive forces forcing splits
before impact bleeds lights final minutes across the great expanse

all of this while the canopy grows
and withstanding the splash
inevitably snuffs the glow
and swallows the sun whole
Track Name: Small Batch
the fabric of the universe is information
it's being formed
its creator is its creation
fractals paint a vivid representation
of the recursive contemplation
that exists in and of itself

try to visualize
it helps release the self
from its diseased cell
that Huxley can tell you all about
through his deceptive doors
the force by which men
are held fast to their own holy wars

alone until we start to think
why we float and never sink
in the sea that links everything
the web that connects dialect
to the things language can't transcend

i'm trying to build a bridge between
the realm of forms and the social norms
that exist in our material world
longing to unfurl
this train of thought
illuminated by a moon that sought
only to birth beauty from rot, decay and neglegence
reminding me of my forgetfulness
and ignorance
to the fact that i've died before
and will die again
to be infinitely born
back into this spiral with no end
Track Name: Wex
it's not my shadow I fear
but the ripples I tear
through the surface of these calm waters
faltering under my own current
sure it's an enemy
after me and the pride I hide
from the self left more deprived
by acts committed at the hand
in command of executive demands

witness the transience that exists within
sprawled across the sky
scattered is the mind that fits such a map
delusional is the man who seeks out a graph
to help stitch himself back

for our imprint on existence
look no further than the constellations
where we banned ourselves to a life of ignorance
long before the dawn of knowledge

then look to the moon
wearing its worrisome expression
remnants of an impending doom

an early autumn in mind reminds me
that I am just a vessel of reflection
existing as a loop of perception
breathing life into the driftwood of such infinite seas
preaching to the trees that fall silent
when no one is around
that they too exist
regardless of a sound fall to moist grounds
wet with anticipation
validation of their own character
qualities they only see
when I become them


this tool
this mirror
this energy

Track Name: Mind Travel
submersed in light constellations flow
from structures born deep within souls unknown
staggering along this fractal's edge
i am found lost within revelations of death

scarred by peaks i crawl into the cave
clawing at ether and mind the same
follow this dream back to its source
snuff out its flame and dispose of the corpse
i hear rivers all around but i do not know where
they will lead me unless i conquer my fear
Track Name: Alias Eraser
the storm penetrated what was
once an impermeable field of metaphor
and soaked it to the core
at least it tried
but the center was left dry

it was there that this mistress painted her map
on a table planning her attack

I saw through her trap
it was you facing her, but it opened to me
within the light colored chalk her nails carved to see
something pointing to an eye in the middle
little and dark she sought to embark
on a quest into the I within U
demanding that the path be shown

I refused and let my fury grow and glow
blasting my wrath from across the table
proving to her that I was willing and able
to defend my sanctuary until its end

it was then that her face melted away
no longer able to mask her disgusting form
hideous and pale she disappeared
as I left my body for freedom in air

I tried not to care but was too alarmed
when I witnessed my corpse lying still with folded arms
on the same desk as before
not knowing what it meant I swam towards the floor
it was easier to fly than to return
I struggled and strained to not be burned
by the consequences of my alleviation
even though spirit suffered from starvation
I clung to a body not ready for release
and was planted inside of one that was dreaming

it was a dormant self, neglected for something else
but I realized it was me and woke from my sleep
to the same seen that ended my dream
Track Name: Painted Constellations
let there be no fear in the release of attachment
celestial secrets have no bounds
but bodies being human are not allowed
they're far too finite to fly right through space

emptiness is the preference of energies
aspiring for weightlessness

oh, what a curse to be forever again
regardless of a captain's control
it's time now for abandonment
so let the stars above pierce our hull
let the ships below finally capsize
and be fed to starving rip tides

when wet wings are clipped
when warrants permit
organic matter decay
relief will no longer abstain
but become fuel for the route
from seed to shake, flower to fruit
Track Name: Shroud
class dismissed
"wait a minute," she said

but it was too late
it's impossible to undismiss this uninterested clique

an exercise in addition
"I'd like to read a short story"

intrigued we listened
to what we could from a book
taken out from beneath a desk
and within a single breath
Canterbury evolved

"Your subconscious is a 4000 page book..."
four 1000 pages of suspense

tales interrupted by screaming walls
rattled by barking dogs

coyotes pierce the veil
snap out of the vision
for the burial
Track Name: Flicker Like Snakes
forge of all origins always a lie
breath filth out of this undead spite
wet the hero who enables no thing
until choking becomes the sword
held high into battles before
functions are normal
whatever that means

cough forth the stitches
for those who need
an excuse to bleed
be it the staples themselves
no one will tell
because this murky pond swells
with secrets deeper than itself

our ample kin envelope interlocking thoughts
while horrible meals invade kinetic plots
son of man is becoming the sun
fire follicles burst - the first to run
but only one
so two speed on
chasing light to understand shadows
cast upon them
by things unknown

struggling in chastity
in lack of control

awake in the wake of your own wake
only to sleep for one more day
admit that the pain chased away
causes the freeze felt today
perpetuate this lack of escape
stalling for the perfect day
always forgetting
that all is only the sum
of what you create
Track Name: Lamonightmare
death opens wide for the executioner's valve
a leather strapped heart relieves it's toxic stream into the endless abyss below

some how the void becomes full
chokes on the poison river and stands five feet tall

pressure presses hard and eye lids fall
impulse to run kicks a body in gear
the cackle of a madman pierces my big ears

"Are you afraid," he taunts
I recognize his face as he refers to flaws left behind in my earlier days
Track Name: 30 Hours
reversed loop from right to left makes no more sense
one can't transcend either direction
obsession and addiction
two minds in line
perfectly parallel
sterile lives inside minds alike
far too similar
comparable to waves with frequencies almost identical
separated by different starting times
temperaments that only align
as often as planets on elliptical orbits
circling the same sun
grounded by the same center
but always on projected tracks
paths unique and singular to those
acting as opposing extinguishers

in all but one instant
that infinitely rare segment of existence
such contradicting signs share resonance
and in consistence with the other and themselves
collapse for a moment
while everything else trickles its course
through the particles that give texture
to the fabric
that links energy to the inanimate

it was there and it was then
that an ill concern was raised
like an eyebrow on the face
of the receiving end of an inquiry that wasn't meant to offend
but objectivity usually fails
when wind tears the sails of a ship at sea
wrecked at shore by the same tools
used to set it free from a land called home
for the attractive unknown

stuck again
trapped in the bend
created by the beginning
repeated at the end
left. right.
right. left.
she was me
now I see
the weight of everything
admitted in public
put in check
thrust back into that debilitating self-reference
but it wasn't the point that gave meaning to itself
it was the Self simply pointing that gave meaning to everything else
Track Name: Hell Was A Story Of Love
remember Gerald
smiling giraffe?

remember long necks
and pretentious ass?

remember that dream of two towers
granting visions of jungles below
from so far above?
remember feeling so pure and free?

remember that fear
and its crippling results
that took years to come to terms with
through reliving stories in books?
remember emotions evoked by movies
through music, in lyrics, on the road?

remember when work was a constant soundtrack
and every night was a competition
for the most embarrassing guilty pleasure where
the winner's shame blasted louder than the owner's mission?

remember when innocent smiles weren't always only in children's' books, weren't always discovered in bathrooms so full of shit, when realization wasn't a word thrown around like a dirty tennis ball to old dogs trying to prove they can still learn new tricks?

of course not

now wait for what it was that tom said,
that nothing miraculous comes when it matters
only when it doesn't
so consume the trash left behind at camp
and forget about a journey's purpose
so that life can be learned about
Track Name: Battered Park
I'm sitting alone only 6 feet away
from the very place
I discovered this game
longing for the feeling that left me dealing
with uncertainty
a deal that left me wanting more than what I adored
soaked to the core
with an illness only grind could cure
until revising the bill to something
a homemade washboard could clean

here I sit while a fat tire blazes new trails
leaving the out-dated obsolete, empty and stale
by chemicals
given to me by a friend
only concerned with seeming fresh
D cups for snorting discourse in a time
when all his heroes can do is write home
to a lost past
both players longing for the source
of what was originally theirs
Track Name: Medium
there is no we when I speak so freely
of the filth I am projecting

here I find myself alone inside a cage of mirrors
all imperfectly balanced against each other
endlessly reflecting infinite angles of all the mirrors before, between and after the center

not myself

this one transcends all knowledge from before
existing in the ether as a ghost
and nothing more

so, then, what is sprawled across
the surfaces of these smooth, metallic panels
that I am trapped between?
Track Name: In Tomb
at the meeting of three where no rivers meet
but serve as lines I find myself free
of these confines we call borders
used to justify orders
of culture clashes and civil matches
no more evolved than not but it's not admitted
because will won't permit it

so I close my eyes
and internalize this poem I long to call home
sick of a search always answered by church
we need not these chains
so in my temple, that body of sorts
finite as any other natural resource
I fancy a place where we act on something
more concrete than faith
on something that tells us all how to live
in peace and harmony
something that says revolutions are only worth fighting
when they spark personal insighting
more often than wick lighting, in-fighting
molotov blinding flashes where no lightning
is assisted by thunder's roar

of coarse this work has become my prayer
because it's for myself
it becomes real
i am intent now that yoga should define life
in every action

now opposite of north
secrets parade as past mistakes
humbling the natives of such a sacred space
I'm sitting on a tomb of power once abused
muscle flexed and caused death
but this village still sleeps in pure air
perspective dances here
though a mind can realize the cause of it all
if not sick of it all
spring to fall and the extremes in between
are born within the sum of we
divided by infinity or multiplied by zero
when the wind blows as such and you listen
everyone's a hero
Track Name: Metamorphosis
i am a castle being built in the dark
i am three corners

your death is a chemical synthesized by the isolation of such...
Track Name: Redux
anchor to inner circle rots
corrosive thoughts
erode safe box
leaving you exposed and alone

wander spheres unreal
tearing the fabric of their stares

shake vision field
feel fission reduced to none
so that no one may wander
there may be no one
no cycle to complete
or bars to eat
through rust
or through blood

no cup
no liquid
no fill
no fix
still still
posing for pics
waiting for the wash
until life is watched away
a slave to its waves
and as such you wait

no force to flow the floor
acids broke batteries
so store no more
Track Name: Molded Again
always under manic notions
in this solitude forever - looking, longing

fall through bottomless aspiration
into constant rebirth
fueling the dirt below to keep it alive
at the price of self

sacrifice life to spoils
to a solution
to evolution

part growth, part decay
perfect balance of stagnance and rat race
against motion and stillness in which all is
reflecting the neglected
beauty of being

not selfless
one's own gift to the world
because nobody is without a piece
to bring to offerings
Track Name: Altered Incite
breath deep, tiny ocean
before vanishing beneath the horizon
speaking a language universal to all of life
you are the crux of compromising minds
and composing matter
which gives way to readers and to writers

the former births that latter
the latter nurtures the first
in a hierarchy that is tangled
or so goes the word
of a bible of sorts
full of data and references
in an attempt to decipher deficits
leading to the only refreshing question
regarding our own innate deafness

does opposition undermine glass landings
if soldiers huff opiates for sleeping tangents
and debunk traditions
for reasons even beyond the author's canvas
of treasonous seasons?
Track Name: 9.20.11
one question that fits like a ring to rule them all: how can i be as selfish as i fantasize about being when i use self reference four times in one line? i see everything as an extension of my being because observer is the observed. how full of one's self, how ego-centric. tell me, then, how the fuck to break free from these chains of self loving - loathing really. its nights like these that i find myself behind the wheel of a machine i lost control of long ago now spiraling down a road crossing a bridge above infinite nothingness between two open sores actively spewing forth the essence of a planet incompatible with a species serving as the cancer thereof. consider pus the by product of a pill swallowed like ibuprofen or melatonin for those with neck cramps when sleep comes hard and stiffens muscles and joints so hits are hard to take when rolled too tight. tossing and turning all night. freezing but loving it because the elixir of life is always found in the absence of having to retrace steps pages at a time. here we go keystroke by keystroke. who's speaking through my fingertips when i type such bullshit after watching a lunatic speaking back into a phone call received by he who made the call himself leading to a soundtrack of recursive samples bleeding us all of what we believe to be no more than a game? it's a shame we can't find the patience to punctuate our thoughts these days. breathe in with the sound of singing in sync with sighs for today's highs and stress for tonight's lows. a six pack and hydrogenated oils. fuck those who aren't there, who stare through others impervious to themselves. too many movies blind them to the wells through which the liquid of life flows so project endlessly so long as one makes projections a reality. STOP?! Why? i can't and won't and simply don't want to. this is as real as it gets for me, so full of shit is all everything is finally at peace with our illusion. my illusion, my dream of peppers growing as the head of a crushed red bell no longer blue. lusting for mind, but not body. lusting for mind and not reality. separate the two that were once so beautifully intertwined in thoughts of tomatoes growing from behind a court for shooting hoops on the wrong side of reflection, reflecting the wrong side. reflection of the wrong side. SIGH, its over for now. at least until another track fires up the heater again - an attempt to deter what one has set for the second. even more primitive. Florida never glamorizes such delusion and i appreciate that but still feel compelled to join in the trap. only an amateur would walk into that claiming it was his or her own. i know its not. there's no way could it ever be mine but its what was handed down. i love something else. shes human. shes real. shes good to me. fuck the illusion. fuck the distance. fuck the dependency that has been replaced by an even better soundtrack. drizzle your light rains while i bleed dreams as an elitist for now, sure ill grow out of this style in awhile. fuck downtown. lets get the fuck out of town and find ourselves. if you already have will you join me on my journey? id love to take your hand in every state, at least in as many as it takes for me to realize that Ive always been who i am and who i was. thank you for your saintly patience.
Track Name: Heroine
you don't need to
convince yourself

that it's easy
just don't forget

that it's possible
Track Name: Ism Levee
Here lies the face of the new machine
Already rusting between dirty sheets
we tried to beat clean
like the sins of so-called heathens
not realizing our blindness
through the eyes of our own demons
Like seasons we binge on life and death
Purging in third worlds the mess of our nests
our humble unknowns from which we turn our heads
as far as we can before breaking our necks
We bend and twist like contortionists
all in vein to avoid the face
of the pain parade
in hopes that we can masquerade a little longer
in our once gray, now black water

Though we all live in a glass house
and not everyone wants out
I am throwing stones despite my home
to smash away all the panes
as I've been feeling a bit claustrophobic these days

So I left as a Ranger with the weight of the world on my shoulders to become a vulture
nestling myself in the valley of two boulders
To intense heat from cold streaks I combusted spontaneously
And from the ashes
a new series of dreams was born to lead me

Now this is my pilgrimage
Flesh red with wanderlust itch
I'm on the road again, only this time with less
trying to fill the void that WAS my existence
with something more than nothingness
Cause I got this notion that space and time
are one infinite ocean - a construct of the mind
the fabric thereof being information
implicit by nature, limited only by creation
So I asked myself with this new found wisdom
what were the tools that got me to listen
And the more I thought the more I got lost
in a dance with my ego's entrapping cause

It wasn't until I realized I know nothing
that I learned to fly

I've only soared as high before in dreams alone
afraid to let myself let go
Clutching crutches like feet on a tight rope
teetering between the highest towers
begging to get back to base, I cowered
from bliss for illusion in a temporary fix
Chemicals to trip, alcohol to forget
aspirations devoured by a faceless pig

Consumption for the sake of destruction
bleeds dreams forever as a lost function
taking the form of any addiction
claiming the cure is in the infliction

Until the levees broke and flooded receptors
I was lost in a maze of myself
A dose of reality about soul collectors
shattered isms to pieces and turned weakness to wealth
Track Name: Interpret Degradation
what does it mean when you dream
of gun battles between enemies you've never seen before
like some kind of video game
where the last level
always ends in a stalemate
and even though you had enough ammunition
to finish your mission
you gave your gun to the one you trusted
to reload alone while you stood guard
for the good of a cause...

a cause you're not even sure exists anymore
but that you still fight valiantly for
one you would even die for?

like the age old curse of a father's gun
that subtle feeling that you are on the cusp
of something so dark, even though the presents so bright
in your narrow scope of one single night
you romanticize the blight of a knight's honored battle
even though you've been told to be weary of the saddle
you've draped over the shoulders
of a scapegoat you now exercise control over

and knowing that all results are long term
even if your attention is quickly burnt
too quick, even, for you to realize what's consumed
by the actions taken in haste
you ignore warnings

until an ugly, flickering disgrace
reminds your blinded mind of your quest for the sky
and dream as you may, but it may be too late
as the sun sets dusk and forgets all of us
dream as you may, but it may be too late
Track Name: Retreat
Dextrolitus! called out the god of Thought
In extreme bewilderment he cried out
Once more the name of his mortal bloodline
So loud that the whole Earth shattered this time

Then violently the ghost of his machine
Fell from his Astral self - woke from his dream
He was asleep for a minute it seemed
His vision blurred, and he could barely see
He pried his eyes open - they weighed a ton
He knew he hadn’t been sleeping too long
Knowing he slept since at least four fifty
He jumped out of bed and furiously
The digits of his clock were spinning fast
He was mortally outraged when he asked
Who is this that calls my name while I sleep?
How dare you disturb my one time of peace!

It is I, Egoid, who has crafted you
From the seed of patterns of every hue
Egoid, the source of all from what was none
I destroyed space-time to find you, my son
There is a path which only you can find
No one so worthy in all of mankind
The Multiverse granted me permission
To give you sensory-deprivation

How can this be real? I need to see proof!
Is there any way I can know it’s you?
If you are the Ultimate Consciousness
Why in my quests are you so elusive?

You who manipulates sound vibrations
King of men and of aural sensations
Do you not believe in the frequencies
That only you create, though you can’t see?
I sacrificed symmetry to give you
Better ears than the balance that most choose
I have given you more to think about
Than the others who wanted a way out
Some run from me and some give endlessly
You are free to either musically
These instruments were made for you to use
Is the trance of such not sufficient proof?
And as for your quest you know only math
Even physics, but where’s the other half?
Have you not studied String and M-Theory
Enough to know about reality?
When one looks he shall never in life find
The true nature of even his own mind
You strive too much and are seeking balance
I have come to you with your last challenge
For others have tried and some do not care
But the gods above have put you right here

You imply a center where I exist
Though in my own kingdom I feel unfit
Oh Egoid, Ultimate Creator Of
Is this a complex I must overcome?

Angrily the god of Brain Matter said,
Has skepticism left your whole mind dead?
Still you ask, when I demand you listen
Has not your destiny been conditioned?

Do you suggest that I have no free will
That if I did I’d create my own hell?
How is man to know wisdom uncovered
God or neuron - created, discovered?!
When I believe I relinquish control
Therefore, logic and reasoning I know
To suit my life more than a leap of faith
How can I submit to that with no face?

You, Dextrolitus, have created me?
But from where I stand it actually seems
That I transcend all of humanity
Is not your logic a form of belief?
To you two and two will never be three
The truth is the leap is necessary

Dextrolitus enraged cursed the spirits
He demanded to see some evidence
Logic to you may be irrelevant
But, he went on, it is all that I get
Why am I to leap and swim in your void
Even if you are the Conscious Egoid?

Suddenly Dextrolitus woke again
His dream of a dream was to soon begin
How was he to know if he was awake?
He asked as darkness blanketed his face
Strangely he could not see, feel, taste or hear
All was numb - did his vivid dream turn real?

Time stood still and space was nonexistent
Locked in this void his thoughts weren’t so distant
All of his fears crept up slowly on him
He tried to suppress them but knew they’d win
Memories and emotional distress
Ignorance and all childhood regrets
Consumed the thoughts of dead Dextrolitus
He realized he’d been living an image
Of what he thought to be just and perfect
But also that none of these thoughts were his
He tried to run, and epitomized man
But where can one go when there is no land
Or structures, politics, ideas or time
To cower beneath or to hide behind?
One by one phobias were presented
As the gods that they once represented
The god of desire robbed him of peace
She grew gigantic and split his psyche
Now there was a right-side brain and left mind
Two towers split in the blink of an eye
And as the infinite distance between
Expanding universes’ galaxies
Whose expansion grew exponentially
And instantly and indefinitely
Due to the quantum level and the gods
Who created it all while still at odds
With each other over control issues
So is the gap between a path to choose
And in between a line of deities
Danced in the void waiting to be appeased
A Dead Slave to his thoughts, Dextrolitus
Remembered Egoid and his dream challenge
Frantically, he bit threw all of his chains
To free his soul of this eternal pain
The endless line of thought-embodied gods
Used their powers to destroy his neurons
Dextrolitus the Bodiless Being
Attacked the first thought that was within reach
The more that he fought, the faster the thought
He felt his essence beginning to rot
His perceived sense of identity died
The shell that remained did not justify
Any of the reasons he wasn’t free
Then he chose to create his destiny

Dextrolitus the Ill-Fated Mortal
Fell as nothing into a rabbit hole
The thoughts of his dream were no longer gods
But parts of himself that he feared a lot
The end of this astronomical tube
Was the voice of reasoning and of truth
The mouth opened up and swallowed him whole
He was digested, then out spewed his soul
Finally, he could see, feel taste and hear
And instantly confronted his own fear
It was that of a familiar form
Its eyes foretold of an on-coming storm
They were pale blue and the pupils were small
Irritation plagued the mirrored eyeballs
Dextrolitus stepped back to see some more
Then in horror he collapsed to the floor
The face he was staring in was his own
His senses flushed and he let out a moan
He saw the sound waves travel from his mouth
The storm broke out as they shattered the ground
His reflection was destroyed by a voice
That came from below and sounded like noise
Blood began to drip down from both his ears
The storm raged on for what seemed to be years
The pain was beyond any suffering
The Champion of Sound had ever seen
Of all the infinitely dense knowledge
He stored only what seemed of importance
And still his mind was full of this deceit
But swore that it was all worth being free

Finally, Egoid appeared and then asked
Do you still wish to live as a free man?
Have you yet cursed your gifts of thought and sound?
Will you give up freedom to live for now?

The Enlightened Dextrolitus replied
I have killed my pride and this is my life
If you are the true creator of things
Then you decide the probabilities
It was my desire that caused all this
And its my head that I have been trapped in
So you are just an extension of me
And now I choose to leave myself empty

Egoid then shouted out in disbelief
How is it that you have discovered me?
You are right, it is not I who made you
But you who found me and that is the truth

Just then Egoid vaporized in thin air
The path to waking life appeared right there
Dextrolitus this Hero of The Self
Cautiously stepped forth to exit this hell
His eyes opened and were burnt by the sun
His clock told him it was four fifty one
Knowing that there would be even more strife
Dextrolitus woke up from sleep and sighed…
Track Name: Three Stones In Hand
fell everything unhinged then entropy collapsed
down on this hallway where nothing is romanced
where dimensions are less than infinite drill
know that I am not here, but deep under nil

the absence of light sparked fable tales
of a tunnel presenting itself from behind silk veils
no more involved in illusion than before
I impassively wander through every open door
to discover that creation is imperfection
death - liberation
that all acts of man are for petty preservation
of the lies that false egos implant in us
fueling destruction through an insatiable lust
so that we cling and cry but never ask why
only damn our condition and neglect open skies
so that our gift is a curse when the cup is not full
still knowing that anything less is too much for one soul

riddles and metaphors could never conceal
the hideous face of a fear this real
and meaning just that, no more or less
we are all empty space

the grind, the law, the drive for all
will never fill the gaping maw
that drives us all into an empty end
with blackened hearts and bloodied hands

and the games we play to count down the days
that we've been given but take for granted
are used to wait, but not to ponder
they're used to sink and fall but not to wonder
if there is a problem with any of the definitions at hand
of the truth we knew before divisions grew

three stones in hand, so the vision spoke
in dark places of the mind so be beauty evoked

interpretations ran scarce because resources were limited
to what was in reach of a web thus conditioned