She was all so dead–

He was a walk­ing flaw; fondling fatal delu­sions hold­ing diluted pas­sion for a world that lost its magic; “I don’t believe in ghosts.” he would rant to his dead cat that decom­posed so he could get over it– “That is love.” Oh he knew, and he believed in ghosts; he had seen one in the mir­ror– “I lis­tened, I lis­tened! Why would you lead me down a path of vac­u­ous exis­tence. Why does your per­fidy per­fectly worsen me with every breath, here’s your fuck­ing milk!” He doesn’t seem to ever notice the smell of spoiled mem­o­ries; The cat doesn’t come–

“The shal­low squan­der, the lonely play dead in a squalid womb. More fuck­ing milk? Where are you shit­ting, the kitty lit­ter has been empty for months.” His cat is in fact dead, and does not man­i­fest itself again as it was the final form; Like rings of smoke turn­ing vel­vet neon echo­ing through a mind; the grand final form left his mind, The smoke had taken over

His mind was slowly emp­ty­ing, but thought fought and never fal­tered; “It’s like– –a bright light; Or just empti­ness has befallen me– I am sur­rounded by limbo– and the ring is get­ting more con­stant.” He meant ring, and ring was cor­rect; but he was think­ing of dia­monds, he was trapped in the glis­ten and couldn’t lis­ten to the ring; His thoughts were really begin­ning to slow, the glow beyond didn’t cover the shad­ows– “The… Shad­ows?” While this was his only thought, he still knew that he was alone; At least if he pre­tended there was a cat, that fact didn’t seem true; but now he really wasn’t alone and the ring­ing was becom­ing paralyzing–

He no longer felt lonely; he felt invaded, he needed space; the shad­ows were mak­ing moves way to fast– He couldn’t even get com­mit­ted to a new cat– “Fuck my cat is dead.. I swore it had at least six lives left! Shit, now what?” His daze lifted like vapor of bub­bling springs; his body felt a warm pres­ence; The shiv­er­ing shad­ows shak­ing in shriek like move­ment had screamed into evap­o­ra­tion– “That ring..” It was com­ing back to him, he looked for the ring; The phone had rung for hours– Pas­sion was call­ing him, he was now ready to answer; He eagerly picked up the phone as if it would sud­denly stop now–

As he pro­claimed his love into a receiver, a speaker not far from it echoed his heart; only her voice reminded him of every con­ceiv­able place in the uni­verse; Only her love reminded him that he found all these places beautiful–

In light of the shadows–

 That which is in between the whole; that is, the knowledge behind many man’s motive to seek, yet, behind all mans motives. The simple small of the complex big, is not “it” alone–

To see between, you must first stop seeing it– That is you have been so focused on it, you have forgotten the rest–

    So we move our focus to not what material is, but what it is in relation to the other that defines it as so; (Notice how we seem to increase the focal point by the way in which we treat our peripheral in relation).

    Once we see the river and its flow; the true form of water can be experienced–

Yet we as patterns like our cycles good or bad, and we let awe rule the ah; cuz awe likes to distract the ah; so what is manipulative in our freewill is really just a friendly crush or more so if it seems to popup in frequency–

     So if you watch the river’s dance of patterns or much more in the reality of it; you may forget what the river isswim and your head will explode, as not only did you forget the aspect of the parts or divisions, borders, form; you must also deal with an interaction so tangible that you melt away into the river because you had to be smacked down into existence to remember you were always a part of it

    However, WE have an arrow of time; that if we forget what an arrow means, seems to persist as a meme in our mind. A result of it existing, a fractal one way tradition that has weaved itself into everything except for those whom weave themselves and still they must dance with it

Yet only because the idea of it persists, some would have an entirely different concept, but if they deny it exists they will still function in some way that implies that it does. They see the symptoms of infection, which appear as people who see time and not the symptoms of infection– And as long as Bill is late to work, and keeps urgently reminding you of this thing-less thing, at work in play, just in time to remind you of its importance to someone other than your decision to not stress over it.

    Suddenly the rivers constructing around you, and unless you see the water forming patterns; you would not see what patterns you swim amongst as– Yet, unless you knew the nature of the river, that is the context of what is going on, and why itself is going about it within greater patterns; patterns, or groups; that persist in frequency the more they are attracted to each other, that is the more the other patterns like it amongst their patterns, as well as the pattern itself whom may love the other parts of the pattern, but may not understand WHY this is so– See you are so deeply in love; That you hold hands with the unknown– That is if you wish to hold onto something, without the effect of stagnation, you must take it with you. Not the form but the patterns essence that has dictated the form–

    So now I have said something. I’ve thought, in love, the moment you understand them, you have an illusory formYou’ve stopped navigating each other, they are already goneand since you are in a state of having come to grips with it, the class is over and unless you let go; the illusion will rot in front of you for closure, or you could apply all you know and maintain the illusion; perhaps watch yourself rot

   This is the arrow; It is a wave amongst many waves, its not one way, but the way you see it. It goes all ways. You are one of these ways

    The pilot comes on and says you can expect a linear experience that for your enjoyment can understand, however you might find that the passengers stories don’t line up with yours, in time, in subject, sequence, redundancies, and over all idea of why there’s a pilot with so little context

    So here we are; All evil is love; As all love needs and offers is corruption, I say that in the sense that, instead there is this feeling of light navigating the dark in terms of companionship in defeating daily hardship as it comes. That this is a symptom of the rotting illusion, you are in a battle against the part of you that knows this form is over, because it is the part that you know and love; but now are you so materialistic that you would hold onto form, if perhaps it was only to come back in a new form? Could this be? And that if you heard me, fastly reject it!

    Now this is suspicious, because NO! Certain forms or titles were special, distinct, and so vastly different– To make all of them the same, kills them as you know before meeting its qualities– Now reject it, because this means that something has been working real hard to make you happy while tormented with the deception it must put on so it can remain. Every girl, one goddess whom has dedicated an aspect of herself to you. Love creates a corruption, that is a shift in a way, a fracture of perception, a dent in the light– Love is corruption, and as long as this happens outside of your operating awareness, it seems good and of the optimal function– You both will be the light whom dances with the dark; AND the ability to control your reality in a way that will forever surprise in formation

    This though is a myth, or its never happened– Because we are infected, the technology can be as simple as an idea of one word– One word or idea can create every clock and is merely an expression of it– That is the form of mystery– Infect the populous with the idea of time; Once you see that the clocks were built for the idea of time itself; it’s merely an expression, that is its control spawned out of itself, it had technology unfold for it, truly the most powerful forms are the organic patterns emerged purely out of the conformity of its will.

   So what the fuck!?  Well… Corruption is a natural occurrence; when it happens the effects they produce are for generally a higher organism of awareness– Such as a town noticing it’s politicians are corrupted in desired function, and the town as an organism deals with it

If a corruption takes place within ones self. That is, you have operated on a thought or belief that separates you from your shadows, it, the corruption itself, that you committed now goes into the shadows and the shadows are left to feed on the only aspect of you they are left withIF say your counter part is the one whom forms the corruption..

   You are a deception, but a rather definable one in the way you paint yourself as a deception. But while the symptoms of it occur here, and so it sounds like I am talking about what we are, but I have not said we are a shadow; as it sounds subjective, but tis not from the one whom sees us that way. But now this disconnected corruption from the shadows we cast cause us to feed on this mentality–

   If corruption of the corruption takes place, a very serious lesson is to be learned, or a serious condition to grow through appears. Yet people aren’t learning this lesson, and so a global corruption occurs; as this spreads would it not make sense that conspiracy theorieswent from suspect to seeming fact of something lurking within.


These words were scribbled in an odd place upon the paper I wrote them in, I have my suspicions on where they go; but I for the life of me do not know what I meant at the time; so I give them as puzzle pieces–

“As an illusion of matter, as a living deception.”

“You will find that.”

“So what? Aren’t we all?”