just what is this?
Labels: choice thoughts, poem, redness
postings of obscure thoughts from the corners of the spiritual worlds
Labels: choice thoughts, poem, redness
Labels: choice thoughts, poem
four of the the best intuitive livid criss crosses acrost the ocean turns the even toasts of life and life less the idea of real necessity when the only thinking left is obscure patterns of lifeless evolution as a diagram on nonsensical drama when things get worse that there is nothing left to see inside the mind of liesoil deoderant very ver e well i cant go much further for there is nothing there but still ness and noise and silent dripping into the empty pit of dispare or of delusions of desperation and forces that make things change when they need to go into the noisiness of perfection and non perfection awe between the two yet not between anything because there is nothing there there never was is are and could have been seen to view like i fold my legs and I bend the world around my eyes into the calms of the storms epitaph or a sore that does not have a soul and sold the money to you for a price that cost my mind to explane the nothing it is not nor ever is could have been turning into the eyes of light and drama dark boring yet bored and not known
I have restarted the epic play called life by returning into a troll that collects letters written but not sent to me. The medicine took to long to wait till it was better get that food that makes dinner a winner. My bank is blank and wishes I was too. Just checking in on the things that were first inline and last to see and be seen. Talking of things that could have been really long in the life of time. The Moon…. In the throat of a giraffe was the leaf of love down by the light of life. Falling birds flying worms snow that went soundless boundless echoes into my windowpanes of little trees that are free for being alive… video sounds of a tape that broke the blanks between the lines of new artists escaping from the sylum even out of alignment together gathered into a fun store.
there is a beginning and an end. a means to an end of existence and an existence of that beginning. redundant redundant redundant exposure to the cosmic void levels the mind set into non-existence where featureless creatures that create the nightmare called self-will.... the walls know me by name the chair asks to be sat in again as the colors with there burning thoughts echo into my eyes and make my mind bleed till the taste of the sounds overwhelms and explodes into the second supernova where... here there are concepts floating into the mind stream as the relative river of life meets another river and disappears into the ocean called infinite nothingness... even still there is more movement to describe and that is all that is left... all things consider what is not real more than actual reality hence the human errs again.... actualizing something else into reality distorts the minds filter through which everything can evolve but does not as again a choice of self-will dominates perfections flaws in life called by name and number alike they try to evoke their own presence into false definitions and predetermined nonsense.... the unorganized mind waves of creatures so human it hurts themselves into thoughts of pain and hedonism where everything happened because they wanted it to... We say to you as you say to us listen to my words in your mind and the virus of This word is multiplied into 2 too
dying the tide in colors too true to be real existences of infinite man and woman alike are divined into the ripples of life slivers of time ripping my mind apart into my apartment that follows us everywhere we go they say there hallucinations for what that is worth but where do the rainbows bend there arrows of rain beyond the real ??? if that is more fingers typing then the free remind me to cry again and I might remind me not to feel anymore and I might remind expanded poison in my brain where the color drops out of nothing ness to feel my skin break and crack like glass in the sands of an hour glass that breaks in the sands of our glasses the rake the likely forms of void and void less escapes into infinite hours often not seen or heard but explained by taste or touch where the valleys run and the orifice is a office to go to work in when there is no hate when there is who we know be cause we know everyone else but you?
5-18-98 9:49 p.m.
Eat in and eight -- 11 perish -- 97 -- -- 2:50 a.m.
Labels: poem
I am but the two or 92197 3:05 p.m.
Labels: choice thoughts, poem
8 -- 11 -- 97 space the 2:25 a.m.
Broken beyond repair 1110 1999 10:40 p.m. lose eye AIDS
If in 520 98 11:31 p.m. -- -- goal Bonnie that it
Want one to 2006 2 7 p.m. qualities via a lucid moment to less nets
A game of gun
Foreplay
R