so many lost folk, religious to atheist alike.
ah well. it is a strange illusion thy physical matrix decrees of spirit. more so considering the illusion that is propogated, whence thou fever breaks down into moments of flurry.
flushed are thee in municiple waste of constraint, confalgrance perchance earthen tied to mortality grove.
oh how destructive mortality consciousness creates thy hologram of impregnated ideas. such fast steel withdrawn and drawn alike into chasems that bind ropes and rods and bindings as sturdy as life.
perhaps ledgers of life are such creatures that ledgers spirit knows beyond dimensional realms. a dimensional matrix unto thy self constructed of the mind thus spake ego personality, with duality death is alive, death is asunder, death is quickening.
harken cries temporal visors who art not visors of temporal design. entreaty eternity in milanry of fire, brimstones burn not damnations reavers.
hahaha, would'st though proofes be virginal, like sigal emblems tatooed in graven space of etherial kind. whosoever understood beyohd thy door of flavour. how rich thy door truely is, spirit speaks to thy soul in quivering enthusiasm.
thy graces of lorded inner sparks in distorted perversion. who shall pass thy testaments veiled from eyes and ears and lips and flesh. art thou guardians a deathly palour of pale as hungery madness weakens mindedness unto thee. perchase thinning fibers of ale, lest rays of sunshine pour down upon thy face. circumstances beckon beastly maws, evocative, craven as large as beliefs and minds.
oh lordy how does one overcome overwhealming masks that blind, drapped within a textures of personal nightmares. a rabid fever of a kind that climaxes into impetus of indulgance in all that is and all that is is nought more than illusion, perhaps millions and millions of illusions woven into thy fabric of time.
a pretty damn good one, sensorial minds would have you.
sages anew forgotten their divine spark, a divine spark that speaketh unto thy name in tremulous anticipation of a longing, deeper than summer rain. deeper than autum winters, deeper than, for posterities sake. energy is amusing no!
who is a foxy, noxy, moxy. who is a boxy, loxy, toxy.
tis a jesters corner crooning for supper. hunger rumbles thy sensless, chatter growels unquenched, emotions prowel restlessly, minds hounorifically flop investment in temerity.
a makers delirium trumphets amidsts doors, doors trained and anchored, steeling programmed memories as cellular as pastures graze. scents dejavu seasoned to tender aromas, gently like a lovers ambrosia of life.
perhaps lovers reunite, dreamers remember, sleepers awaken, quixotica.
heheh. amused.
a penchant to arms.