~the

Someplace between here and where sat a man with crossed lags and open eyes, he longed for not... yet always found more in meaning. Not one to question the lesser things in life he found importance had been replaced by ignorance and he had been replaced by me, yet still be there an entity that spits and spouts intelectual retoric in an entertwinds cacophony of sylabols similar to the threads of life. Speaking of, has anyone seen the valet? I've lost myself and the jump never started. I felt tingles in the back of my conscious but they hadn’t yet turned into the screams of life. As I turned to the right I saw myself as someone else, yet I was myself… Strange… They cannot fathom they should be praying to themselves. When life falls do not catch it but watch it. It is much more pleasant for it to pass you by. I feel the need to formulate… anything. I can’t sit idly by why my mind rots, there is still time… just not much though. Traipsing through the thoughts of yonder, placed inside this little jar, held by me with great inside the cage of forced fruition, slaves of thought they dances for me, pawns of time splashing watercolors before my eyes, cool crisp rain flowing through the cortex, pulsing deeply as if I myself am ripples and all surrounding me is solid, holding the liquid of me in solid form. God, I'm fucked up, Amen. I no longer feel myself I am just one of many, a meat puppet, dancing like a fool held by the strings of perception, Cut these free and fall beneath exsistance, below the radar of life, wallow in subversion while watching them prance before your eyes, swirling, whirling, flying above it all, lost inside myself but never looking to escape returns are unpleasent and the throne must I visit soon, feeling the acrid mix of consumtion bellowing for expidiant removal, fight the urges for they aren't you and you aren't them. The daemon of your mind is dancing on the walls. Playing in the shadows of evil concealing the good. Lucifer’s army, Hundreds of thousands of angels arousing the daemon to conquer our souls. So come now children of the daemon. Rubuke your past forms to find spiritual bliss in an orgy of communing spirits all thrown towards the wind scattering where they may. Life inside itself is growing, a fetal endevor of hope, place upon a pedastel, only to fall and crash like every well placed intention, must we die before we find life? Must we remain in the purgatory of misinformation, why is the fat man on TV swinging his arm as to incite a premature heart palpatation? They need guidance, they need reassurance, I need orange juice, Damn I wish that I could walk, I'm not in the mood to crawl to the bathroom, mmm trashcan looks viable. Yes going to (pause for urgent retching sounds) better, orange juice=bad idea. good to skip lunch, Ugh, why has my vocabulary shrunken much like a post ejaculatory epiphany? There is nothing worse than stupidity and I am at the level of my feline conpanions, except they disaprove of my water consuption, why do you stare so coldly? do I not feed you? do I not pet you? do I not allow you to share in my metaphysical exsistance? Can not you once give me any atention when I request it? I have you for it will be. No, go instead of now. you think, I can't to say, for I am, have you ever seen these shades of delight in your memory? Can I stop to share a marshmellow pie? I should have a laser show built into my brain where things come alive and I go along, father must I tread , deep into the heart of humanity to find peace within exsistance. Go into the orchard of your mind and pick the forbiddin fruits, cherish them for a time will come when they will not grow back. For if they rot off the branches of wisdom it is no fault but your so blame none else. My mind hurts and my concious is weakend, the ends aproch now an I grow weary of morrow, the time is come to crawl into slumber and relapse into the dreams of freedom for again it was found and for that I am glad. (Note: I did my best to make sense of this, edited much but most was unintelligable) Doc