A late night, drug-induced, transcendental piece of dadaist found object art

So, first and foremost, the poem you are about to read is a piece of drug-induced transcendental dadaist found object art... let me explain. The last night I was in Oregon (DC), before they extradited me, I was incredibly high on a magnitude of coffee... the coffee they had there as I explained in other letters was magical to say the least. So that night I was so messed up that I thought I had transcended time, space and especially language. I felt the way that people explain mushroom tripping to me... yest, that fucked up. So I attempted to start a letter to you, the Roseburg crew, when in my delusions I realized I was far past a mere letter to friends and began to challenge the foundations of civilization, language, and everything... I would pause writing and with my brain contemplating at opposite ends of the universe I wrote line by line, each time finishing feeling like I had made an immeasurable advancement. For 4-5 hours I wrote and wrote and wrote and then they came and took me away... I was not reunited with the letter until last week. Upon reading it, I felt an embarrassment level I have never felt previously. I remembered feeling so inspired during the actual writing itself, but could not remember any of the content. So when re-reading it I felt like I was reading a 12 year old rant from my youth, I was immediately disappointed. I had no idea of the horrendous rhyming and ridiculous repetitiveness. But upon reading it a second time, I grew fond of it, after all there will never be many if any other drug-induced writings from Jayson (although half of them probably seem drug-induced). So I was going to re-write it, to polish it, but I decided it would be a grave injustice and insult to my artistic integrity to not have it repeated verbatim... So all I did was format it into poetry from from letter form (which I can't even format my own poems) and changed three words that I obviously knew were incorrect. So now you know the mindset in which it was written, enjoy! If it is the worst thing you've ever read in your life, than that's a good thing, it it's one of the funniest that's even better, if it makes any sense than please seek immediate attention:

Hey you guys, and gals, and those that prefer to identify with neither.

Today, my eyes filled up with tears
I know that’s no way to start a letter out from jail
But let me make my case
This world is dying!

I take that back
The world I’m in
This cell
In this jail
In this town
On this freeway
Apart of a network with other cities
In this state
In this nation
A part of a global system
Is already dead

We live in modern pyramids
Mega machines
That converts everything living and wonderful
Into dead things

Things that have value to them
Like
Money and tools
Houses and cars
Jobs and pools
Banks and bars

Value – what a useless word
Use another useless term

It’s in our languages, it’s in our religions, it’s in our sciences and in our governments
DEATH.
But not the same death
That once was celebrated along the side of life

Not even the same death
That was once a part of life

Capital-D, Death as its own thing
As it capital-Departs from life
As it capital-Destroys life

Thing – we view the world in things
Abstractions, Definitions, Ideals, and Beliefs

Everything is a thing
Everything as a thing
What a silly Ideal!

Science, religions, governments, and languages
These are ideals
These are our ideals
These are based on their own ideals

Ideals of control, isolation, explanations, control
Definitions, understandings, beliefs, control, love, hate
Separations, control, life, death, definitions, control, intangible
Untouchable, incapable, unknowable, control, Angels, Devils, spirits
Souls, control, freedom, liberty, democracy, control, study
Experiment, discovery, control, letters, words, sentences, paragraphs and pages
Control

“I think therefore I am”
Fuck Descarte
If you add another “e” and flip the “a” and “r”
You can then desecrate
That fucker Descarte

Reality – what a human thing
Human – yet another thing
Another – still some other thing
Other – a separated something
Separated – an isolated thing
Isolated – a definition, an ideal on how to view certain things
View – a way of observing, speculating, or seeing such things

Things – everything is a thing
Nothing is a thing
No thing is still a thing
N – O – T – H – I – N – G are all things.

Things are dead and dead becomes things
Existentialism, even has a particular meaning
Existentialism – what a silly, useless thing

I think therefore I am
Inverts to
I am therefore I think
The other is based in insanity,
But both are ideals and ideas are mere things

I don’t want a new philosophy
A new definition, ideal, or worldview
While though I will never be able to break from
Viewing things as things
I can at least break apart some of the parts
In this death-craving mega machine

Here’s to a world where everything surpasses the tangible defines in intangibility
Where anything refuses the definable limits of undefinability
So that somethings are not left limited to an unbearable unlimitedness
To the point where nothing can be explained
Anymore

Here’s to everything being wild past our wildest dreams
And it may have been expressing dreams that first defined this world into things
But now it’s dreams that make it possible to break through every single thing

So to those in power, you can try to keep me locked up behind steel doors
But eventually even these doors will wither down until they are no more
And then I’ll be the one knocking on your very front door

Written from the Douglas County Jail

(Transcribed by Charity)