In times of great Spiritual Enlightenment and conflicting creative desire And Many other distortions of Reality, a Mental Dump possibly? atThe reason for my great and continuing present state you must exuse me=I've lost my music

Hello, this is me, currently formulating ideas and attaching them in separate and countinuing manners attemping to "know" or gather "insight" on what it is i'm trying to achive with the making of this website. concerning the creation and the means of creation. Amen! A new religion is brewing. The great work done by the people is to decypher and deduce whats meant to apply to Me and Whats meant to apply to You. Nivarna Breakfast. Complete Nonsense. Fuck You. I can dO anything on a site thats mine. Djital interlude to something behond. It calls, Will you open the Door? Neocities.

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When the doves cry, fallen over,fallen order:

This place will also include: past poetries -Creative endovors works on -Feelings and newly obtained self updates -The pursuit of Art -Spirituality -Newfound sensations -remeberence and reflection -Explanation -Tehe the total and complete exploration of my minds mine Of all that ive chosen to experience in past, loong forgotten mental endvorse of Possible Drug induced Light Compodium The Experiencing of Knowing of Light Of personal ceative endors of new completions and their affect on my mental state, Mental gymnastics A panicing mind tied to aan all knowing spirit I will Not be Blown Away from Myself No matter howbadly those alterior factors attempt to disconnect, unattatch, Leave in isolation:Blocking contemplation pursuit of new sensations If I am successful the Whole world will know my name but not this website I belive I have something to teach the world Not about me About themselves Truth be told I long for a sacred hand hold, but to be compacent and die is to die with nothing, shining true into my own life, I often find myself dead. Fame may be the reason to reason. To will to push my will, a driving force, let them see how great you truly could be, how great you really are.

• An intro: (still under examination, I.E. Contemplation) A mental projection through art semi constrictive methods a brain feed tube to another interlude, besides the point like the one on my two walls left of me
• Not some dog shit disporia like all the others, will I try and make as little sense as possible
• Neo meta genre blender drug bust bender sender who sent her meant her cant stop wont drop read too much read a lot fallen order spent disorder on the corner on the corridog Mental Log Shit . Free thinkers. A term I like to use because of its now taboo state. Mention 'Free Thinker' two precomosed sides of an argument will arise and a beration to separate seas countuines. The argument is flawed. There is no reason to separte the sea. The sea is just the Sea. Going behond, even further into the bonds of a mental compoudium; There is no Sea to begin with. separating nothing from Nothing, Thats truely something

• An intro:
• He's backk again for the second day in a row. See how far he Goes to save himself what he thinks of himself So easy to get lost in it like *THAT*. hoochie couchie men prance upon my mind like its a sign of the times. Strange poetry on an non poetic more prophetic computer, never been as graceful or kind as the other other man But I know i can For i Stand like a man i CANCSANCAN Back on land im full to the brim with each whim i might swim in that deep blue atlantic Ocean Travling again every dollar spent But thats not what he meant as far as he know it tends to go way away way down south where the prophets prance Take that sacred stance, Gotta make amends for all the dollars he spends end right back on jesus's doorstep, He must confess hes sinned back in the Garbage bin full of sin Cannot win without a sin? Man down the block ask him where he been but he ain't telling That feeling its swelling again Gotta make amends With every dolla he spends. Feels as though it don't do nothing though. Got so far to go, can only get so low not again not again. A magic potion meets a pair of lips and their minds begin to slip, once again. Those feelings Off! he fends Block it all out and it won't hurt you It won't hurt youuu But why are you so terribly scared You big strong Man I know you can Yes I know you can. I'm just a great big Fan of all that hard work im the writer you see Cant make ammends if only for cash booze and weapons you send Watch where the money is spent You know what I meant.
• The Polar ends of Polarization will meet it’s end. A specular spectrum flipped upon it’s rotten head. The Great Confusion of Human Evolution and it’s self destructive survival desires will be met by a great mirror placed in the secular night sky. The Expanse will be exponential. Your Schoolhouses and great News Networks, placed high, on a pedestal, looking down on us from the Sky, just like the Great Moon on High, has taught our supposed and fallen world otherwise. All is forgiven. The distortion of truth still stems from truth, for that is the endless, salacious nature of that Universe stemming from all of us. We forgo our birthright at birth by the teachings of the Mislead Masses of the past, by our parents and their teachers, by past leaders and word of mouth. Do You Live? I ask you again, Do you live? Do you use your mind as an extension of your own or of those who have provided great exhibits of power, over nature, over peoples, over life and death, over childish classification, observations of the Misled Youth. The Sorrows you hold within your own mind cannot be silenced by placing Misintent and Misfortunes on others, the Laws of the Great Governing body that truely rules us all forbade it, the Universe. We people only retain what we desire, desire, being as tangible as the wind or great pylons of clay, must be manipulated by those above us, Less they lose the power so desired. Call it conspiracy or revolt, Those placed below the natural rights of all Mankind must conspire, less the World’s Word Will never be changed. Oh, great secular powers that govern this ruling land, teach me your misled ways and your Manipulation Station, lodged deep within our brains. The Universal Truth, the quite voice, so separately discarded, at the center of our bodies across all planes. Silenced since birth; giving us no light to illuminate the path of Eternal Darkness we must Walk all our Lives. We will trust you blindly, your never seen, Artificial Manipulation of Light, Always Promised, Never Fulfilled. Continue to give up your own, individual, presentation of Light. In pursuit of the lowest vibration, I will cast no doubt, I will blink not once and follow you into the Expansiveness of Ever-Growing Darkness. The only option left is Revolution. Spiritual revolution of the Masses. When the Realization comes, Knocking on the door of your subconscious mind, We must make haste, for the door is One-sided and Locked, We reside in the Interior of Consciousness, only we hold the Key. Enlightenment in the First Degree, it Knocks. Of all People and Places it talks. Will you answer The Door, or listen to the man, and throw away the Key? The choice is yours. But, in a world Contained, The Likes of Man, Bound, Lashed to the Natural pole, Your death marks the reason for it all, The natural Life, The Individual: The limiting bonds of Time. The Possibility of Freedom is of slim interior and action must be taken, Less this world truly become a Fallen One, and baby, We sink lower every damn day.

• What is it that I want to achieve?I wish to find inner peace. I wish to produce projections of my mind. I want to know of life and death I want to keep it in mind I want it to be mine. SAtirical conversations will unfold here with. Sarcasm isn't meant to be funny. It isn't? No it is not. For it is meant for purely piercing mannerisms meant and duefully intended on harm and damnnation. Well, I belive, thats up for contemplation. Shakespears charaters, a projection of his head. Coflicting Morals and internal naritives become charaters in the comedies and Dramas taking place on the stage of consiousness In an audience of people willing to listen and relate to something behond most of their comprehensions, Right on the cusp of nothing and all knowing, just round the corner, great Shakespearen Nightmares filling my head at night.
• What is it that i Wish 4? I wish for the exciting Good Times (tm) to be back in full swing, I wish to know everything. I'm not sure how receptive they maybe just may be understanding of the purpousful nonsensicalness (how absurd) I was contemplating today, about the way things could be. I've might've tried've to sacrafice myself over and over as to not let the things in. The everything . Trap urself in your mind to protect yourself from nothing.
• More was written but supposedly deleted. Life up to date update. New Moon was last night. Intresting berations of contemplation took place and the over all consiousness took a hit of two in a hit or two. Mysterious men showed after a crime was commited and the spot was reached. A sort of fued was put to rest (hopefully) over shared drinks in victorious postions, The crime commited. Once the flow of the booze and harder stuff ran dry, The moment became the only thing of concern, with nothing to learn in a fucked up state, conversation took place as the only means of conmunication. As if part of you was constantly dazing away on a warm summer day on Desolation Row or Dirty Bolivard or some other lazy place of misguided love. What I am and what i deam as me as Real has come under question. Its truely strange, The confusion of nothing. Seems to always have a place, less there is a drug taking it's place. But when i take a step, less i contuine the confused cycle, tthings begin to place a foot on the door, Its always ajar, just gotta walk through. As I was saying, three mysterious man, Appering from nowhere apparently, But more likely from knowhere. Sebastion, The leader, persumibly, The unnamed one, Asking but refusing to tell (If three drunk teenagers asked me my name I don't know if id tell either, although the circumstances were as such, slightly divided) And the One who was young. We shared the same name, but he was only twelve. And so conversation and indulging insued and we were but a merry bunch of newly aquanted strangers made friends by substance. They shared their domers and they shared their weed. A drunken secture specularly will be turned upon it's linking head once a seemly forgein postion enters the minds of childs via inhilation. To say I've never been crossed before last night would be factual. The conversation was already momentary due to the alcohol, but the intake of challenging oponents of the war on substance truly made books start falling off the shelf as the coversation fell apart within my mind. Women were the factor that tipped the scale into leaving this enviornment within the enviorment. Before we left the ring leader of new friends offered me a pack of blacks (today i found out that they were shorts) and I accepted his kindness. He told me he didnt smoke and he had found them. The universe relaying cigs to me? I was so shocked and accepted That I told him of my plans of fame, plans of getting to where I wish to be, and told him If i ended up making it that he would be welcome to accopompany me on my journeys. I still hold this belief today, If its meant, our plans and wires will cross again and holly and jolly reuinoiun will take place. New places in galilee. New verses in a personal bible for a modern day sinner man. Vommit and Women accompanied me and my fellow enlisted m3n in the holy war of the night. My hands smell of ciggaretes. Vommit on Vehicle provides new means to get the car washed. Felt like a real Rock and Roll animal Lou Reeds main man. I must complete and compete in this life, Writing only from my perspective, the only perespective anyones ever really got. Internal debate insued when I wrote those words, but no alterior opions were persented, so I kept it in.

• Don't forget what is forgotten. Trouble looms always. A friends apology to another was discreddited, although it complex and profound in nature, The one doing the talking was on adderal. See me change every day like some sick Morrison changling. My mother has just told me that I do not love her. great Insignificant pain abounds and I long for another hit of the profound. feel like a six sided die tetering on all six corners at once. Drawn up a meental picture of the profound a map will be my guiding light. Feeling as thoug I wish I felt like Everett Russe, on the front of exploring my mind, recklessly, blindly. Kindly, wishing to be back in the womb, wishing to start this miserable race over agian. I can still win, even if it doesn't feel like it. The emotions difficult to deal with push away the mental projections of enternity and creativity and enlightenment. Still I stand, with this cut in my habd, aiting for another self imposed beating, cut me dry, my father called feeling as though all my passion and fire of desire can do is burn others and myself. I am the art project, completed when I die, wish to live again another day. Feel as though All i Can do is disapoint:themandmyself. This isn't rally th end it feels like it though, or is it. Just can't figure out how to fix this shit yknow? Fell a dark spark coming on. Heard it through the Grapevine or some shit. I hope my sisters still love me no matter what I do. Throw way your vape, I know you just wanna feel safe.
• Mental itterations of some complex nothing. Stringing words together is nothing but eazy nothing but sin. Complete and utter bullshit. Horse shit its quite a thiong to look at. Looks like hay. What the fuck even is a metaphore, into my soul it pours opens doors like a great hydroponic waterefall on a cut hand giving you reason to cry. Whoa whos even reading? Whos even listening whos even composing? I cant when I'm working? all these people do is work. Turned into mindless drones looking for another hit of some sacred ditigal paper turned money. Im no diffrent allways chasing never ubtaining Or maybe thats just how I feel. Alchohol stolen or bought. Tend to think a lot and fall asleep to classical music as my whole world falls apart like some great siupervillian on high. High on life they say. I say fuck that and fuck you. What was my mother talking to my doctor so long and advidly about< Me? Her eyes (not my mothers or the doctors) s-oke soft sweety poetrys and lylitries to my very soul. Don't worry about the absence of correct words to describe your soul, they just haVE TO BE SAID IN THE RIGHT WAY. Strange, go through the window, A final source of motivation crubles to the songs of an interlude, how rude. Disturbing even. Childish laughter erupts as something new burns its way into my mind. Where am I, Whos my kind, where I have been, filled with notjhing but roman sin. Hear in high I mean nithing to nobody If I mean nothing to myself. How does one deal with the complex emotions and thoughts of the day in this age? A Blog? even thats outdated. SO when the words are said please u must listen. Real voodoo chile will a complaint to file. Said with style, like MFDOOM or some other kissed miss on a planer of faluire, best you can do is all you can do. Gewt a taste of Freedom and your mind will run rampent like some digusting child ape or other primate. STUPID FUCKING MONKEY BRAIN WHERE IS MY SOUL TAKE IT BACK TAKE ME BACK UNPLUG THIS SHIT I AM TERRIBLY AND TRUELY UPSET AND CONVECT LIKE SOME GREAT METAPHORE OR OTHER BULLSHIT CALL ME JIMI. bullshit, absoulotly, truly, spelll my soul wrong on the final test of the year FUCKKKKKK. ACT's or some shit, she refused to take them, wants to be a kinergatner teacher for mislead kids, I thought it was cute.
• If you would direct your vision cortexes to the image below. There was the cut on my hand, or how I like to see it, in sn srtistic sort of world building way. A warning, A learning oppurtunity, A new experience, A mirror, A Soul at stake. Within the influences of my mind I partake, Look where its gotten me. Mad hatter driven mad by some LSD trip or some other brain stem bleeding method, Sanest of us all. No one seems 4to see how I see, Odd and lonely in a lovely way, wishing on a woman or the void to take my pain away. Deep shit or superficial, Where is the line drawn, Does it exist, where can I find it, Is there a number I can call? I am deranged and absoululy off the wall, or so my friends say. Well, comma, it's truely up for interpritation, what they say, just where my mind takes it. It's all up in the air, what will you catch?

• An intro:
• It got deleted againfir the second or third time in a row, somewhat reminisecent of my life. Finding new ways to mispell wrong words at the wrong time, what've I lesrned from this whole ordeal what i gathered like a oile of sticks soon to be burned by the master at hand. What is it you've flown and where did it land, The wind is within this weak body, flying high into the air like your mothers kite. What's it all for annyways? a frequenting evening dispors thst could be plotted on a plot graph. Where if not here>where is my mind. Confusion.n.pln.egh.lhrra. Intresting, strange, uncomprehenedable, how'd I end up on this path, What a strange time to possibly disasociate. What;s gssthered and whats gone. It somehow works t=through the noise, through the lemmon pepper haze.
• The Polar ends of Polarization will meet it’s end. A specular spectrum flipped upon it’s rotten head. The Great Confusion of Human Evolution and it’s self destructive survival desires will be met by a great mirror placed in the secular night sky. The Expanse will be exponential. Your Schoolhouses and great News Networks, placed high, on a pedestal, looking down on us from the Sky, just like the Great Moon on High, has taught our supposed and fallen world otherwise. All is forgiven. The distortion of truth still stems from truth, for that is the endless, salacious nature of that Universe stemming from all of us. We forgo our birthright at birth by the teachings of the Mislead Masses of the past, by our parents and their teachers, by past leaders and word of mouth. Do You Live? I ask you again, Do you live? Do you use your mind as an extension of your own or of those who have provided great exhibits of power, over nature, over peoples, over life and death, over childish classification, observations of the Misled Youth. The Sorrows you hold within your own mind cannot be silenced by placing Misintent and Misfortunes on others, the Laws of the Great Governing body that truely rules us all forbade it, the Universe. We people only retain what we desire, desire, being as tangible as the wind or great pylons of clay, must be manipulated by those above us, Less they lose the power so desired. Call it conspiracy or revolt, Those placed below the natural rights of all Mankind must conspire, less the World’s Word Will never be changed. Oh, great secular powers that govern this ruling land, teach me your misled ways and your Manipulation Station, lodged deep within our brains. The Universal Truth, the quite voice, so separately discarded, at the center of our bodies across all planes. Silenced since birth; giving us no light to illuminate the path of Eternal Darkness we must Walk all our Lives. We will trust you blindly, your never seen, Artificial Manipulation of Light, Always Promised, Never Fulfilled. Continue to give up your own, individual, presentation of Light. In pursuit of the lowest vibration, I will cast no doubt, I will blink not once and follow you into the Expansiveness of Ever-Growing Darkness. The only option left is Revolution. Spiritual revolution of the Masses. When the Realization comes, Knocking on the door of your subconscious mind, We must make haste, for the door is One-sided and Locked, We reside in the Interior of Consciousness, only we hold the Key. Enlightenment in the First Degree, it Knocks. Of all People and Places it talks. Will you answer The Door, or listen to the man, and throw away the Key? The choice is yours. But, in a world Contained, The Likes of Man, Bound, Lashed to the Natural pole, Your death marks the reason for it all, The natural Life, The Individual: The limiting bonds of Time. The Possibility of Freedom is of slim interior and action must be taken, Less this world truly become a Fallen One, and baby, We sink lower every damn day.

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