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Call of the sleeping god.

to say there is something to the nightmares is sheer folly, but dreams have a way to slide back into the mind through the subtlest of means to the end, no way to see that thing until it is right on top of you… the writing implies that i might delight in these hideous concepts leaking from the psychic wounds, but would it surprise you to hear the contrary escape from my lips?… probably not, but the writing has indeed gotten to a slow crawl, that i put the blame on my finally putting some puzzle pieces together on a few of my rancid tales out there… you care not if the cut bleeds, and the soul that is mine stains the ground, as these thoughts are so foreign to your own i see… there are times when dark things overtake a person’s senses, and that depends very much upon the donor of brain matter, as the ticks and leeches try to drink it in deeply… this cthonic rage cannot abide, dude… the naps turned to thoughtless rampages through a universe internal fraught with falling buildings and screams somewhere deep, so deep it touches a nerve of fear that madness makes me piss myself, but are those just the heartbeats in my chest radiating outward into my head somehow?… are my dreams really my own, or am i some mad dreamer among the many, hearing the call of the sleeping god?… the twisted car wreck of analogy representing the limited actions in a person’s life, but the “driver” of the soul feels helpless to combat these horrible options even as they are self-imposed hurdles, tests to ensure loyalty without questioning the ideal authority… paradox tries its best to throw us off the path we are on, no matter how far the progression has gone, but through true will alone one can defy any siren songs at the exclusion of hearing everything altogether… the words can always escape our grasp if we do not seem to manage the focus enough under the duress of people’s attention, at times the individual breaks down when a constrictive flow of energy comes to an end, and a burst from the chest becomes an appropriate expression to spill forth… game over, man, game over… not everything the voices in your head say will make as much sense as any of the rest of this, and sometimes a person just needs the rest to make up a direction and go forward, this is the optimal risking behavior to really understand… few people understand their primal intelligence and reconcile that with the logical intellect that anyone else would define as general intelligence, no one learns through classes alone on effective reconciliation between mind and body and soul, and few symbols will ever openly reveal themselves to those unwilling to let go of their predispositions first… there is no transition without letting go, the raw amplification of nervous energy can make the mind yield impatient results, and the imagination further paints the blackest pictures there are….still i go forward… among the hissing and the yelling voices, the cold and graceless face of the world, and yet even i am not enough to stem the unrelenting flow… i say to you, fate is not a whale, even through the thick and thin….how long can i wait?… sometimes we all just imagine the worst even when it is a lie to believe for long…

Thanks, khet.