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a torment of frequencies.

You might think it is safe to be hard like a rock, but your ego betrays a lack of confidence in the self-esteem that is required to move about so freely. You can look into another face, and sense the animal alertness embedded in this flesh. You can read the signs of progress like a scout with a compass, but your initial thrust forward is hampered by an existence fettered by the material needs that substitute necessity. You can see yourself giving, but all you can do is take it as the world dishes it out to meet its tempers of equal pressure. The urge becomes too much for the being to endure, and as the light fades from the eyes, an embittered perspective takes the place of a mind open to any frequency that reaches the senses there. You may feel hard to the touch, but your soft pale skin isn’t worth slicing up just yet. Hear my mind’s eye. There is only freeform mention of the ideas before they spill outward. There is no hell for consequence, the hell of infamy maybe, but the metaphysical moves onward to something else. The energy doesn’t just evaporate into nothing. It must become something else that is different than what it was before this certain transition. Death is never an ending, but the electricity of consciousness is elsewhere, continuing the continuity of the existential cycle.