fate but no fate in a time with no time… as we are all together once and for all… the divine will to be resides within each of us, and the potency of honest unity altogether can be what scares us into clutching ourselves above all else…
out of Context;
‘there are too many days in lonely contemplation, and eternity becomes the twisted prism, reflecting the divine light into deformed Technicolor… the remote control over selfless puppetry trying to live a life born from dreams as we commit to the reality… that graphic hole from which escapes no light…’
time is of the essence, but I remember nothing of being born again… the crude matter of getting home was tiring my thoughts beyond compare… a turn of the wheel later, and the sour moments drift away as the door closes behind me… the compounded feelings of satisfaction and sensory overload were consuming a place that I could not lie to, the part of me that was not yet dead, and the rhythm of my heart kicked in at gradual steps behind my movements… layers of clothing fell away as I began to reach at the knobs to the bathroom, to relax inside a warm bath, and house my hindered state into a watery mercy… it hurt to ache this bad wanting nothing more than to bathe away stressful sources of my own decay… my mind was feeling this …
out of Context;
‘are we those soulless machines that we see gliding across the streets in horror at the state of the as yet to be place we are always inhabiting?… some of us are walking nightmares, and we beat back our inner demons only to unleash them at the most unjustifiable moments at those that do not need the pain…’
out of Context;
‘the menace lies outside the walls… waiting… fires burn the ashes of evidence in the wake of our mishaps with laws and functions… to stay in line or walk away?… difficult defined those one-word wayward saints… actions… to make the day how we want it… only the jerk-offs hear nonsense as their dead nazi incestors make up their minds for them…’
out of Context;
‘the tunnel grows sharp as it inserts and asserts itself in the anatomy of gesturing symbols… they twist apart and leave their striking point in the conscious plane… it changes from mouth to mouth for a chance to stick somewhere that it has never been before… a furious freak out that we can’t see as deftly as we need… under the surface, it mates itself sparingly with torrential outpouring of restless emotions…’
