postings of obscure thoughts from the corners of the spiritual worlds

Thursday, February 17, 2005

yeah clake cont.

  1. 5
  2. 5
  3. 5
  4. 5
  5. I think the word clake was a mistake i made just to see of the mistaken clake was made wrong each time i look back it looks at me each time i turn over i see her him it it it it is this it that is a bit skitty i shake when i wake but only over a good rest or is that resturexion eveliblity vocal synthesis
  6. vanacularly worn to the bone with exceptions and over sighs split ions in the nite of a thought pattern probed with xg1 what is xg1 again i dont even remember volume control patter of comfort plastic noise ID
  7. by ever remembering nothing that has ever happened it does not ever happen by the way we see ourselfs there is no other way to too 2 of users like this relationship but sinking into chairs of condensed light the colors grow into a universe
  8. i ate the universe again and again still finding my way back to the cobble stones over and behind my minds eyes
  9. never bending into fluid never plasitite plasma or form or shape dead in my virtual world of endless mixtures between the e electric structures but not lama lamanated hello world.

presently there is a shower or two going on somewheres it is in sunlight somewheres not so nice and if it were or could it have been a shower of sun light that is sent we would know what it ment and who it was sent to see for you see the sunlight is in the letters that are typed as we read them in our mind us three me i mine be thyne of now or in time

presently i know the force of courses in the sky presently is see the effects of lite air to rise where the colors are real and form ripples out of our mouths without effort or even slid between the spaces of moon rabbits and venus flys that we feed with our eyes cant the end be simple but sweet bitter in side of a woman that knows the truth and will not look spoken in shock of a lock or two that is between us presently

presently i know no other but the I i am the I i am is nothing to compare nothing is all i compare her too and critisize of the longing for a freedom for her mine is by the way beloved and beyond free below cold about to rise into the feedom of life in my heart of heat

the whole thing is present the whole net it dead the world of matter is form and shape the net is alive again after a long pause of echoes in the void of interneture and commonclature life is not water must post


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