CREATIVITY & KNOWLEDGE

[link to www.youtube.com (secure)]

ODE TO NATIONAL SOCIALISM:
The trembling Arian rectum, and its pure pink quivering anus, awaiting its Global Corporatist Uncle’s next white power transfer. Oh, the sludge-clogged Arian mind, dutifully serving over Eighty Thousand Pedo-Rapists the world they’re paying Nazis to deliver, and oh, what is demanded for payment:

Science to make women respond unknowingly on cue; Science to hold back anyone who doesn’t think that’s rape; science to convince them a mirror makes them superior.

Better keep those Pedo-Rapists stocked full, their pastimes require a steady stream of ruined children; the National Socialist is to never count himself among them because eventually, if they’re lucky they’ll ascend in rank to do the ruining themselves -a living female mind contorted into service, ready to take the pressure release and physical punishment.

-The science of accelerated healing techniques.

Oh, when will the next White Power transfer be? Wonders the trembling Arian rectum, -definitely after he gets to slaughter another race or religion in masse. Good practiced, ordered deviant, marching steps to march. -It’s important to feel involved.

Last Edited by boutreality on 09/10/2023 10:36 PM

A MICROCOSM OF THE MACROCOSM

An exchange of internal martial arts, where both combatants are only drawing upon their power as generated by their physical forms -not through meridians or chakras, is known as more of a dance than combat. Opponents move with one another’s momentum, each forcing “original generation” out of the other that must be maintained and counterbalanced, uninterrupted. If the flow of exchange shifts, one party will not be able to avoid assuming a “reactive position”, and the more permanent the reactive position -the reacting “flow” becomes, the more certain the victory for the person triggering the shift.

…And if all sentient awareness is one -in the base expression of sentience as physical flesh, expressed through every individual, all good intended outcomes amassed to one end, and all its opposition amassed to the other.

In the summer of 2018, when Pope Francis (from Argentina) attended the Bilderburg meeting as the newest Pope in office after a truncated term as Pope by ex-Nazi youth Benedict- the first time a Pope attended, the momentum in the macrocosmic “exchange of martial measures” shifted to those intent to see evil’s end -from then on, the enemy has been reacting.

-The album is named…


Last Edited by boutreality on 03/30/2020 09:25 PM

Not to be too Freudian....



THE ALLEGORY OF JEZEBEL & MATURE RELATIONS

Medical science established academic precedent for studying the physical, biological processes of people Doctors aim to treat and in so doing, data collected over a century was taken from studies limited exclusively to men- the reasoning: “Man is like Woman, except for those pesky hormones.”

To people of a certain age, to voice distress over this, especially to a doctor -even to the physician treating you, is “out of line”; those types of thoughts “disrespect the position of trust society places doctors in”. But position alone, even when the position is arrived at after hard years of study cannot ensure the baseline of medical practice, -to “first do no harm”, is ever met.

In allegory characters are “conceptual import holders”, and the mythical character of Jezebel is renowned for being so audacious as to take multiple lovers. -Even to leave one long-standing partner for another on whatever whim she decides justifies the move.
“Jezebel” as an allegory speaks to the natural organic development of a woman coming to express her sexual preferences, -freedoms, and how pathetically insecure men become when faced with how naturally such a development is lived by a female; after all, they are just over half of the planet and their physical, neurological, and emotional development follows its own course.

Who’s fault is it that the female’s development, -their existence presents “the world of men” such a debilitating issue? Recognition of the “cause for issue” has been covered by absurdly extravagant conceptual bridges, like “Women can’t think clearly enough to vote”. Or more recently, “Because women need maternity leave they are worth less in the job market.” -Unless they are content to make a go at “sleeping their way to the top”.
--------

...And to say NO ONE is grown up neurologically until the age 19 (at the earliest), because the ability to reason -at the "region of brain activity associated to reason", the forebrain -how it looks as the "center of reason", is not physically in arranged until 19.
So anyone reading the above, thinking this is a key to "seducing" a prospective partner, AT LEAST ensure they are 19 or older. Or be content with the cowardice you will become forever associated to, by any actual knowledgeable person.
Have you tried talking to a 23 year old (of the sex you are attracted to)? -After a certain amount of difference in age, the only POSSIBLE reason the older party "puts up with all that nonsense" -as my friends and I once proclaimed, is to "Put it inside."

-Recognize it, maybe grow up some -the world needs "both of you" to.

Last Edited by boutreality on 04/01/2020 03:39 AM

To the beauty of the exit line, the song after words has what may be the end the best one I've ever heard.

Occasional Other

Out of bumps and slight shadows in white speckled finish, at an exact angle with my head positioned relative to the lamp, on my bedroom wall I see your face. A delusional sanctity graces your memory. I’d put up a shelf, some candles, and attend this vigil for as long as it takes you to return if the extra light wouldn’t scare you away.

What austerities or tributes are demanded? What offerings are meant to adorn your feet? Do breezes outdoors make these chills echo through me?

Elders say you must enter the temple empty handed, the young claim everything must change. A nice suit and some gold pieces are required to reflect the company you hope to keep.
Somber humility and well shined shoes, sparse talk for utility, non-verbal cues and some well-planned hand signals to unify our impending congregation. I’m the only known follower, though I’ve felt your others in our every touch.

Never demanding more than you offered, managing my obedience until I built proverbs from words you spoke.

Prostrating my body to prepare my petition, inventing obeisance, mind swirling, thoughts distorting every look we’ve shared into silent acquiescence. Your every approach is an enduring lesson, each ecstasy you let escape echoes this house hauntingly still. Above me naysayers offer,

“A man in love is one that adores his own folly.”
“Faith is a one sided conversation a believer finds endlessly engaging.”

-And only a fool would choose a cardboard altar caked with sand, soaked in saltwater, over a view where he can see the waves crashing and remain dry.

This whole time, did my every step fill your ghost’s footprints? Since we met, have I ever been in control?

Never lift shattered, mysteriously assembled fragments up to pedestals, thinking them whole. No matter how tightly you embrace, it won’t repair a soul.


--------
4m36s long and it is AMAZING, but this is all about the lines at the outro, so stay focused!


Last Edited by boutreality on 04/01/2020 04:17 AM

A voice of "Old Soul Country" with a beat:



COMMANDMENTS
1. Be good- and accept that pretending that a person “knowing their good” doesn’t make them good.
2. Leave each other alone.

Now some finished cut-up work, it's a part of a cut-up page. (It's the first sentence.) Read the hyphens as dashes (or feed it to a robot vocalizer, I'd imagine that'd be fun).

Your Honor, over my time out-in the cold I learned-indiscriminate discrimination-no income based-it’s not-tax bracket meltdown-so much-to cover myself with bedding night and shadow provides-as a dubious distinction-it’s dynastic bloodline chosen-diplomatic policy-in advance of-the current-at the time-next attack-bubble burst-the ceiling was binary-banks not allowed to own investment firms-a peculiar talent-string this together until it has meaning-on the senate floor-claims submitted-all your rights lost in subcommittee-everyone should own a house-then no one gets a raise-minimum amounts of disgrace-targets for appeal-hand down judgements-lamppost shadows for sheets-layers distinguished by shade-it’s the endlessly raising roof-in winter at night-new and improved-backroom agreements-a story told over oiled handshakes-shoe shine strategy-there’s a place for you-not yet written-find-where we know you belong-inside sound barricades with convenient fast food access-deliberative debilitation-closed session emergency-banks own investment firms-burst the next bubble-soap factories-oil filled tankers forever wandering the ocean-water costs extra-keeping it out there removes it from market supply-own the rain-if not on fire-reassess price, pay off setters-with entrancing nodding heads-coldest at dawn-a dumpster’s shadow makes the blanket-conceal your spirit-swaying like a transistor-broken in shivers-multifaceted transmission-force a solution to apply-a staggered frequency-dawn pushes frozen air across the atmosphere-emitted through light-did they see the fog their final breath made-picked up by a secret antenna-questions for an expert-pontificate rate of interest prognostications-smile with red wine stained teeth, she’ll overlook it-for contract’s duration-entangled to spine-monetary courtship-I’ll tell you what love is-ask for it on your knees.

======
Another of my personal favorites of all time; second by Akron/Family
3m4ss


Last Edited by boutreality on 04/24/2020 12:42 AM

Just discovered this:


Their name: Young Fathers.

(So I just wrote this)

Captives

It’s fighting like air cooled by the building’s AC meeting air entering a remote open window. It’s half the upstairs now and we remain on the ground floor.

If storms could build in this containment we’d both be levelled (and probably still fighting about who’ll be first to get back up), if either of us wait for clouds to form before deciding to leave it will only precipitate more yelling.

At the point where nothing can be resolved, neither of us admitted it, instead we worked our shovels into one another’s hearts, -it provided its own reward.

As a thought of you surfaced, the temperature dropped.
It reminded me of the years when you mattered.
(I'm sure you feel the same.)

Last Edited by boutreality on 04/25/2020 11:42 PM

Writing is followed by one of my favorite bands when I'm in a rock n' roll mood, The Black Angels -they remind me of what hippies would be like if they always wore leather jackets.

Bestial

Wait, then go was their secret method.
Cleaning what was left over, was left to whoever found the room.
Their prey shows them when the next room is available.

4m53s

PUMP-UP/GET-GOING Music (Capitalized for the import it plays in just about everyone's life.) Here's one by one of my favorite artists -really starts hitting a message with its energy in the second verse (end of 1st).


Attendance Requested

My mind detached random syllables from strangers’ conversations to blend them into a rhythm. A discreet message drove my foot to melodic floor tapping to externalize my anxiety, awaiting results of the Symposium between Time and Knowing. I wasn’t alone, besides that briefing room, most of those left alive wanted the result.
Actually an argument between pundits and philosophers on both sides, media kept it pretty and sophisticated, so for weeks in advance the word “Symposium” poured through every outlet with taglines like,
“We, as a whole, two and a half billion strong, are united to force a conclusion.”

About fifteen years ago our situation came into focus. Natural food supplies and resources had so dwindled famine was starting to spread to the world’s most wealthy countries. Stranded with all we had to show for ourselves:

Shortly after we declared war against all bad things and/or people, nuclear weapons exploded in a few of the world’s population centers. Whole sections of the atmosphere brewed tremendous radiation storms. People packed into any shelter they could find whether or not it would hold up to literally searing rain and gale force winds. A decade ago we surrendered all military armaments to be destroyed. Amongst us, -previously murderous in spirit or flesh, we found no further justification to kill. (However, the magnitude of catastrophe leveled did catalyze mass suicides.)

Sweating heavily in a large orange-walled room when they announced through speakers blended into the ceiling:
“Time blames knowing. Knowing can no longer make a sustainable argument. We cannot prove this was anyone’s fault. We have concluded it could have been prevented.”
-Then something within me; a physical current shook uncontrolled and from inside out, like a chill grabbed my spine in the hundred stuffy degrees of the crowded room and I wept, having lost sight of the exit. (It probably went unnoticed; probably not a unique reaction.)

Last Edited by boutreality on 05/13/2020 11:51 PM

I am unmoved. And that is not because of the content of what was said, but simply because you quoted it, the only reason for which must have been to defend your people, whom I despise.

(-and one more song of the same category):


Statement of Warning H

Memory lapses mental caverns forced full of, ‘what to do when conversation drops because of something you just said.’ Lives made to represent locations from which we came, identifying ourselves with situations we’ve outgrown, mundane characteristics for which we’re here to be defined, and their verdict.
Drink, talk, or smoke our ways out of naming their constrictions. Cover the fear that nothing of substance is awaiting-cell-phones ringing,

“Why don’t I have anyone to talk to?”

More images please, my over-taxed mind is too vacant, less emotion we plead, stuffed to the gills with anticipation. Steps toward a position so lost you are “Convinced you know where you’re going”, and those approaching your goal, echo identical footfalls.

Okay, you've forced me to ignore you. Ghetto black music and philosophizing decision-making processes that come from an instinct that says, "I own him. Therefore, he ought to do as I say." And so the world ends, due to exactly the people everyone thought it would.

HEY! Class Act! (I can only assume is your name) The thread is about demonstrating knowledge as any individual will; showing how creative outlets are useful to show one another "what is known" -even if it can't be put any other way.

But by all means, make ANYTHING here about race.
Way to Go. Tell your friend you just earned a new nickname: CLASS ACT

Last Edited by boutreality on 05/13/2020 11:29 PM

Hey! CLASS ACT, You're back!

Claim you know. Explain the FACTS of Nazi Science, and how Physics has only been applied to drive civilizations to their own destruction in economies based on mining -AND HOW NAZIS support is because they are the exact brand of STUPID to think

"DUh Skin White Duh- Corporatist KID Fucker God.
It's only how the world's run , and NAZIS support it ever step of the way.

Thread: THE BAVARIAN BLACK SUN REALM AND ITS CONTROLS
Answer PUNK. Thinking required, and there's A LOT more original work where that came from.

Thread: ANTI-GRAVITY & 2 TYPES OF UFO PROPULSION -UPDATE- ON THE INFO FROM BOB LAZAR
-SINK OR SWIM TIME CLASS ACT.
Answer, and NO BIOLOGICAL ASSERTION TRUMPS FACTS FOUNDED IN PHYSICS; it is literally impossible to sustain the argument -Nazis are so stupid this has to be explained.

Last Edited by boutreality on 05/13/2020 11:36 PM

The 'Win' post was directly to CLASS ACT -I'm telling you bud You get PINKY to THUMB claps-
Yes you do, bring it up next time you're dropping trow, ready for a White Power transfer from your CO.
(In the spirit of the song) Class Act is BITCH MADE.

Last Edited by boutreality on 05/13/2020 11:52 PM

To anyone who played along at home while Class Act proved himself to be Bitch Made, what I consider to be "what is being won" is explained under bold heading "How The War Began", in OP here:
Thread: ONCE UPON A SOLAR SYSTEM - THE FIRST FALL *update* WHERE THE FIRST PERIOD CAME FROM

Last Edited by boutreality on 05/14/2020 12:01 AM

Conversation in the Mirror

In cases of dissociative or other personality disorders six out of ten people journal, chronicling their responses to an authoritative voice (identity) inside their heads.
-That was complete nonsense. But it sounded good, right?

(No one listens to you anyway.)
I walked across a large plot of bluff, of course it was only a bluff last week, now it’s for sale, but not fenced off. Of course, we did, you and I-
(You’re worthless.)
-Where was I? The grass was wet and I was wearing those green pants I wanted to keep clean.
(A negative equation,)
-Right, and rain puddles deepest along the highest curbs. On my way to cross the street, I stepped onto the yellowing sidewalk littered with earthworms squirming, waiting to get cooked by the sun.
(Built for you to screw up)

Lit by these bulbs, I can almost make out your presence, the driving force careening this caravan off a cliff. You need to create a performance before you can take a bow, that’s why you’re here, right?

(I’m the silhouette softening the angles of your face.)
-A promise that sours at first taste, and by the way, I managed a long stride as I hopped clear of the gutter.
(Your pants are soaked just the same.)

=====
(smile)

That was a great experience.... for people who skip videos they are surely missing out.....some of it I had to go back and listen again but very interesting presentation in this whole piece! It’s an adventure....

Cool! I was hoping for more combos from others, but you can't post pics without paying, so since I like music and write...

Really, anyone is welcome.

There is something infectious to what they've done here:



Child Passing Time

Lamps, chairs, coat-racks, all became monsters on full moons.

Over the next fifteen days darkness will deepen until me and the rest of my room can’t avoid being swallowed up.

Last Edited by boutreality on 05/20/2020 11:51 PM

I used to do what you're doing here quite often. Part of my experience was sort of the opposite to one you wrote of. I had no real teachers when it came to music (I taught myself piano, acoustic guitar, and bass before ever taking any string lessons), and I did not pay much attention to words. Phrases, snippets would jump out at me, but for the most part I gravitated toward what I heard that I liked.

I had a very poor grasp of metaphorical language then, and on and on well into my late twenties. Even when there were lyrical snippets that I enjoyed, I seldom gave much thought to the context they were held within.

It made for a very interesting introspective process, and quite a deep one at that, once I began to appreciate the study of psychology, mythology, and the creative process. When interpreting the lyrics of a song that I was very fond of the feeling I got from it over decades of listening without understanding, there were many 'aha!' moments in which I thought to myself, 'well, no wonder that was always a favorite'.

I'll surely make efforts to dig through the collections of of my own poetry and captured images and gladly accept your invitation.

I don't want to force it, though, so for my part, this post is to serve a purpose of sealing a mindfulness to keep an ear out for notes that ring in sequence. It's best, in my opinion, to know precisely what lines I'm looking for when inspired by notice or recollection of an image or vice versa before I go looking for a pair to share.

aha, was hopeful one would come before my day was over

the inspiration was naught ado with the culmination, but i doubt i have any other with an ending more fitting for a beginning of what i may have to offer

:dc16:

Flower fuckin' moon
Full in fuckin' bloom
Waste away a tune
Wring out all the blue
Archer take your mark
Herald find your hark
Lusting, listful lark
Left lacking it's art
Fields never ending
Talons are rending
Pits within an eye
Of one who would try
To begin again
If only known when
An ending had passed
Through a scrying glass
Tick-tock goes a clock
Click-clack of a glock
Through a misery
Ever meant to be
It's all I have known
Would you really loan
More time just to rhyme
Of the mire, trine?
What the fuck do you
Want that is not true?
You cannot change my
Life that's without lie
So stop trying, try
Instead yourself, fly
Like feather you've known
To each, his fucking own
I'll try something new
Something suddenly
Sadly, mutely askew
Reject world, see
What comes back to me
Ah, would it not be
More the same again?
Rejection, failed, fee
Wailed, wrought water when
In the breach a wren?
A pendulum swung
But a brink I think
A bleeding heart wrung
Empty into the sink
Blood spiral, last link
Maybe, if just a
Pinpoint I could lay
Upon the how and why
Of the love I try
To grow, to know, to
Understand in truth
Of how I've come this
Far, will-o'-the-wisp
They barely make sense
To me, truths others
See in words I rinse
Synchronistically

Thanks

-Everyone has "what is known/experienced", and an ability to covey it on their own terms. Doing so, even if only in private can LITERALLY HELP ORIGINATE THOUGHTS/IDEAS, complete with ways to act on them.

It's NOT an EXAM- none of the replies are "graded", and viewers or readers may stumble upon something that can make the world "fit better" to them. All they did was look at/read/listen to a creative presentation.

EVERYONE WELCOME
How your reply ended reminded me of this:
(Words after vid)



Love Note 2

I’ve been here too long to feign the ignorance of youth, though I will miss the comfort it provided. No longer holding a constitution allowing me to emulate it with drink or smoke, I’ve even found folly in my over-indulgent brooding. No place was dark as grey, no smile full enough to change the shade.

Love made our shattered hearts whole and picking up the pieces is more therapeutic than a couch and poorly lit office. Love has given us definition and abolished the fear of speaking for more than myself.

Since you’ve been here I can recognize my heart.

Those mistaken passes, their desperate contrivances were shelters of crumpled paper. We knew the homes we were trying to make were solitary piles of debris but cold held us captive. You’ve taught me how to embrace without holding.
We are the fog between trees in a forest, their deadfall, their leaves breathing, and the sky playfully mocks our insecurities.

Our innocence never left, we convinced ourselves it was worth their taking.

Still we only meet in dreams, too selfish to call it a shame. Rhythms by which we speak, patterns in falling rain, I’ve learned the best time to be lyrical is when you’re not trying to sing.

Last Edited by boutreality on 05/21/2020 09:35 PM

This combo came to me last night, and lo and behold SOMEONE ACTUALLY posted! THANKS AGAIN. Kind words from Winter Riina & Deafcat are appreciated. Please offer more whenever you like. I lost Coldplay after this album -Parachutes and "Rush of Blood.." were astounding for the 1st 2 albums portion of their career.

Whatever direction they were taking since that was just not worth owning to me.



(Nature of Metaphor)/Eyes Shut: Starlight

(Approach of Nature) Point… blank surrender, signified nothingness with/below -each- Pose, Stranger, Muted ...types of shine …scatter across galaxies.

In-between and beyond all embers of stardust slowly churning at every corner of the universe everywhere, a dimmer yet more substantial glow, more than just this frequency, is whittled to murmurs aloft, drifting mostly unnoticed through our heads. We all feel… from a disturbing inkling (a sudden itch to scratch our cheeks) to a governing instinct (walls of houses we’re secretly playing in violently shake).

...an inexplicable urge to abandon our world and find ourselves amid freshly fallen ruins whose demise affords us, finally, a rising sun painted by opened eyes.
If these words sound to you like they’re weeping, they are.

Epilogue: Funny it ends under our silently disturbed smiles (funny might be said for the rumbling through our veins). Graces swept under belligerent hours you held me pinned, lover. Laugh out loud joy merrily twisted out of control. Blasted and getting nice and dirty, nemesis.

(Title) Life… solemn sleep, intermittent gaps between laughter -eerie- Under Cemented Eyes… more than darkness …less than light.

We will have proclaimed our sacrifices many times over, perhaps for attention. As frequencies as projections selected forth of a band and bundled up in space between space travels light, emanating shadows deepening until we become darkness. Leaving us wandering slight as glimmers gradually fading from our eyes -lest pure shine pervade. And without depth… finally burns immense, a fragmented outer edge, stretched tense yet snapped.

…to look inside now, all we can say is that we are becoming a time -when all we thought to matter is decomposed into chatter- used to keep everyone else’s world moving.
If this sounds to you like fitful screaming, then it is.

Divorce: If we could’ve seen ahead to our future remnants we still would’ve broken helpless, lying shattered across our moonlit floor. Glittering shards of what we are, we could be just stars never fallen, -all matter of perspectives.

(Metaphor of Nature) Kids… carcasses playing, making forts alien ships -targeting- Souls are Ocean Shores… withering or building up …as circumstance governs.

Each drank to their full desire, to never again indulge, certain a pantheon is ever struggling their encouragement. Sometimes it’s tough to say you’re done. Thought I had had enough. Anyway, you get so sad when it all melts. Sun rises and sets inside our walls and this place starts feeling like there’s nothing else out there. We’re buried in a void’s womb swearing yesterday made sense.

Starlight: Eyes Shut

Last Edited by boutreality on 05/21/2020 10:04 PM

Newest Empty

Where did their wake, building in their terrible continual reverse, take us? Surfaced miles beyond what any prospect defines, and that’s far less than, “Better than we dreamed.”

Something absent in material but present in its weight aches through us, covers us like a blanket every time we surrender to repose, then the yearning to wrap ourselves in its envelope comes on, and we've lost sight of each other ever since.

====
(What's the song about? Starts off quiet:)



Last Edited by boutreality on 06/12/2020 01:20 AM

With the set up: Flower Fuckin moon sycnhronistically under that pic is great

i deduce from the pic that the flower is a tease.

-as a friend once proclaimed: "In the minute of life I'm on a 30 second delay..."

Also: Did you consciously choose the Wren? Cool Fact:

It's a bird that tracks people in the wilderness. The Blue Wren (in Southern Nevada) literally flies in patterns to flank you as you walk. They announce the presence of people in the wild and the other animals listen for it.

Last Edited by boutreality on 06/12/2020 09:49 PM

This whole album. Honestly, for this outing he (they) were: "Stand back". Official vid shows the cellist (cello-ist) and the two singers performing- it would not post.

====

On Relations

Your beauty is not in bed or in your ability to entice me to fantasize about having you in one.
My beauty is not this over-belabored thinking about what seems obvious to almost everyone.
Kiss me while I’m only inflating your sense of self so you will sleep with me to inflate mine.

Keep the music loud, chatter going and the babble of cell phones ringing.
Eventually it will feel like animals beyond a tree line in a lone abandoned wilderness.

-An organism that halts when it smells emotion, sadness has a scent known only to the depressed person, this creature is the exception.

She knows people outnumber stars and it’s a sense more than sight giving her the certainty.
She depends on her sense more than smell to know who to engage in conversation.
She leaves them shaken in their chests, soft in their throats, with her eyes’ steady insistence.

All of us dance with her performance, all the while thinking our choices are our own.
Her generosity is unappreciative.

-She haunts in chasms growing between us, laughs at our interpretations of impossible to bridge passes, and her smile turns to a grin awaiting our silence.

If left to planetary influences we would climb olive trees to ignore the wars raging beneath.
Exchange accounts of bodily memories, ghostly certainties, and do our best to be believed.
Once we had an impossible to assess value, then our appraiser vanished without a trace.

Internal aches marked by slight shivers in our irises send waves through the atmosphere.
Air tickles her skin and begs all of us to laugh as we stir the cold morning.

Last Edited by boutreality on 06/12/2020 09:59 PM

Modern

Nothing stopping us, we have nothing to know.

In a bit less than 7 years....

(We have you.)

The Substance of Passages

Where have they gone? -Playing off reverberations through form from its central trigger, particulate and dithered to collapsing scope. It’s all seen but only by what’s afloat atop each vertical storm, indeterminate and without local gravity, pieced together in four dimensions but as its physicality.

It’s how life is lived because few sense the difference between themselves and what churns to formulate invisible matter, constructing strings running from the shoulder to the base of the skull -nerve like strings turning to wooden filaments in rot, growing in soft new tendrils downward from the upper rear ribcage ghostly to ensnare the hip bone in roots anchoring signals once travelling the nervous system, now secreted into minuscule tubules within the fibrous growth.

Over time bodies are twisted inwardly. People become displaced temporally in the psyche, operating on years-past experience as if it fits the current time, and beings are contorted to shackled hosts twisting in rage, regret and pain.

“It was sad to leave. It was sad to see them go.”
-The underlying universal.

Last Edited by boutreality on 07/16/2020 10:02 PM