Originally from the Ancient Greek word 'empatheia', derived from "en" & "pathos" ["in" & "suffering or passion"]. Here we find the root of empathy's definition. Empathy is in emotion, feelings evoked from the animal in our psyche, the purported soul. It is sensation born of mirror neurons, not necessary under our control.

The Empathion is the empathetic dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind through which emotions are created and thence expressed.
Empathos is the corporeal manifestation of said dimension, expressed through the medium of a body.

Alexithymos [without-words-for-emotion] is an unaccepted dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind comprised of irreconcilable notions, it is proportionate to our own limitations rather than lacking in "actual compatibility". If a noumenon cannot be processed by The Empathion then it is relegated to Alexithymia wherein we cannot accept the inability to understand/emotionally analyse it at present, given the current pretext.

Alexithymia was constructed from a-lexis & thumos  [without-speech & soul, seat of emotion, feeling and thought]. It is a failure to integrate mirror-neurons into our own gestalt of consciousness, possibly because one does not yet possess the schema required for integration.

The Entheon is the actual dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind which is as according to reality (if/when aligned correctly).
The Apotheon is the elevated dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind which judges objects and thereby separates them from reality.

The Empatheon is the emotio-judgemental intersection of the psyche, The part of the mind where emotion can be comprehended, reflected and resonated (rather than merely sourced, determined and asserted). As a faculty The Empathion is intersected by both The Entheon and The Apotheon. Things-in-themselves may move through The Empatheon but their movements correspond to a generative dimension which cannot be known by the human psyché.

my **** is like a monster
not dimensionally speaking
it's a monster like a wild little dingo
with a huge appetite
and some really mean *****
like kamikaze surfers waiting for take-off
with their engines on

when i see you
you are blond like something i might regret
you are pretty like something i always knew and loved
and your voice reminds me of a girl i used to care about but never actually met
your voice is perfect and always sings in tune

its midnight, really
and the band plays the last song
and they play it like its their last ever
and you say you always wanted a double-bass player
in your band
but i say i can play the banjo like the world is coming to an end
and "baby its cold outside"
yes it is colder than it ever was
but its OK
you got a bike
i live around the corner
so its goodnight from me

me
the out of order gentle ****** predator
the ***** watchman that just switched-off the lights
the good lieutenant of the debauched night shift
me, with a heart as big as the Pacific
and a smile that says **** me pretty please
goodnight

i. you will miss him in drizzles and monsoons, in swells and tsunamis. you will listen to his favorite song for hours; it will hit you every unexpected moment. it will hurt, stab, ache, and you will suppress constant screams with strained lips.

ii. you will collect everything he gave to you and wonder if it is dimensionally real. you will sleep in his shirts, retaste saltwater kisses, and reread conversations as if there's something you missed the previous thirty times. absence does not make the heart grow fonder; it rips it apart and you cannot stitch the ragged halves with no thread.

iii. you will feel his touch presently in everything you do. it will be soft and cruelly comforting. it will constantly and inescapably linger. it will haunt you in early rainy mornings and dark lonely evenings.

iv. you will read endless musings on love and philosophy. you will entirely understand foucault's prison. you will live in steinbeck's tide pools and stars, and relate to simon bolivar trapped in his labyrinth. you will wonder why everything is like this, ugly and broken (and also if you are becoming delusional).

v. you will drink tea that scalds your tongue and stand outside on freezing nights, numb and overfeeling at the same time. you will ask the silent moon a thousand questions. you will see him and blink, head swimming, heart pounding in surges. the stars will wink and the wind will mock you.

vi. you will have blissful afternoons you forget and sorrowful nights you remember. it will still consume you in bouts, devour you in spells. nighttime will become both your enemy and remedy: it will wickedly remind you, yet help you heal.

vii. you will try and fail to make sense of him (and the universe in general). you will grapple with reality and yourself. perhaps you will never know why he stopped loving you: you will keep wondering how some things can just be left broken.

iix. slowly, slowly, you will sprout on your own; you will be tender and nearly whole. most importantly, you will realize his love brought you an entirely different kind of happiness.

ix. you will stop worrying and trying to piece together an empty puzzle. even the deepest scars find their way of fading. your mom was right: stop picking at the scab and your wound will heal.

x. you will learn to love yourself in ways he never could have loved you.

A room.
Need to displace to move.
Arrangement of places you’ve been
******* you in like some Kansas twister that swept you off your porch
just after you open the door for the first time today.
I awake from a dream.
I don’t remember what was said.
Clumsily laying letters over felt footsteps.
A semblance of something too big to tell you.
I cannot move it but I’ll say whatever to mean it.
A body subject to the wind
ringing against the world, accenting the edges in sharp cries
like a dinner bell that never rests.
How’s the sky taste Major?
You think Bowie really cared for karate?
Only superficially because in some perverse way it was a form of art.
A Darwinian heyday exhibition for the human condition.
I’m alive *******, let’s keep it that way.
In every way.
Don’t want to be too narrow.
Need some space to move.
The past that comes to us now,
first came from our future.
Even the ones that wilted under the shadow of satisfaction.
Even the objects flowing through this wicked light show of so much contained in three tiny axis’
Please chart your love according to x y and z without dimensionally reducing the picture.
Don’t worry darling I’ll wait, remember it’s there we first met.

Seeing you drops me

into a roiling hot-spring (extra-dimensionally speaking) where
the insides are known to welter—their opalescent phospholipids

doing the wave at lightspeeds. Faster. Creating
a ring of light. Now the sound of light. From inside, creating

            Me.      You

            make me light.

Oh the way you came towards me in that vermillion cardigan!
The color was not as fierce as your eyes! But I saw, too,

their softness behind—their yolk. And with mine I asked
            as you passed me by
what would happen if I broke            the shimmering membrane?
            
            Would your water leak to blossom
the spell-bound violet amaranths that sleep their promise
                         in Borges’ living garden?
            
            Or would it spill thick in crimson?
The hot sweet density tasting
                         like a wound freshly opened.

The taste I’ve come to know
                                 when women’s eyes have made me light.

Through a broken mirror I see your recollected smile
To the depth of a vision’s reach I see your tormented soul
Lost soul waiting to come out the materialistic exile
I see you reaching out your hand but the mirror is too cold,
You are trapped, who would have thought we could switch places
Though I feel your broken heartbeats
****** tears dripping down your shattered faces
I’ll stand by you, dimensionally, if your soul fits.
Your remains lie in your illusionary window
Until the end of time your existence remain a story untold
Your soul continues with no hopes of tomorrow
Your dull destiny was long foretold
I’m looking at you through this broken mirror
All I see is loneliness and false happiness
Dimensions repel me from stepping closer
While your soul falls down the infernal abyss.

*Well well, here we are again
Gazing upon you as I revisit your brain
You haven’t changed since our last encounter
Well I had to see you again as we open this new chapter.

How many complete pathways of choices are there?
OR
How many choices are left to achieve completion [!]

Either offers an accurate divisor into the number of possibilities "n" roughly at whatever is the above determined level which is a power called "m".  n^m, roughly...divided by either the # of pathways or the choices that are left [!] to completion.

Either divisor will serve by ridding us of duplicate iterations of over-multiplied possibilities inside of roughly n^m.  

Put another way, simple estimations of "n" at the indicated power level do not recognize that
1) more than one path arrives to a conclusion;
Nor do simple estimations at indicated power levels recognize that
2) apparent particulars from which to work toward completion are actually not different particulars--half of them are double counted at the level of being two choices from complete due to the dimensionality of the whole becoming complete.

So the impact of having a divisor is strongest either when:
1) working toward completion from levels that already include almost all dimensions of particulars or else
2) whenever operating at low levels of power which have only a few pathways.
Estimations of possibilities are easily too high if not considering the adjustments for cases 1) and 2).
These are for occasions of having more than one possibility.

However:
The number of complete outcomes that are reachable, divided by all choosable pathways = n/n = 1 .
Or else, any one outcome chosen from its penultimate particulars through to completeness = 1/1 = 1 .
Thus,
Singular possibility is by definition, complete, whole, created, ultimate, and embraced in all of its dimensions.  It is both one easily won and/or one, fully, dimensionally itself.

(Whatever is not and is not divided,
or, is nothing left unchosen
= truly naught and something not found = 0.)

Sources:  Closed dimensional choice paths (the geometry of the powers depicted) and Pascal's Triangle

Monsters are depicted one dimensionally
Paintings illustrate the difficult decisions
This is the observer's farce

Blood on one's hands paint the canvas
Fingers comb through the valleys
Defining the geography of pain

Trauma sets in, and out goes precision
Distorting one image to reflect another

A change is needed in perspective's pallete
Hands soak to wash away the day view
The crimson stain nevers leaves,
Vibrant ideas left to wade in the murkiness

We met inter-dimensionally,
traded cosmic runes
on our fingertips.
I tasted your liquid dreams,
you stroked me delicately.

In deep space realms,
we seeded
our fractal hearts,
jump-started
the flat lines.

On sunshine,
we believed
in the lost arts,
kindness reemerged,
immersed ourselves
in fiery sensual desires.

Those fires are
never quenched
inside the mind,
we're splintered,
you & I.

It was another retrieval-order,
he’d been missing forty-eight hours,
tracker beams calculated his
last known whereabouts
in the Tharsis quadrangle.

I didn’t relish this mission,
red dust had been swirling for days
& the winds were picking up speed,
measured at 100 m.p.h.
It was crazy for Snyder
to have gone out in the first place.
I remembered his friendly face,
his jovial demeanor & gracious smile.
I felt sad knowing I’d never seen him again.
He was one of the hardest workers.

All the company could ever talk about
were profits, profits & even more profits.
We all knew the risks,
it went with the territory.
Out here on the perimeter,
on the edge of tomorrow,
we lived our lives three-dimensionally,
another day, another dollar, another ***** shirt.
It was the same **** here
as those days we had
back on good ‘ole planet Earth,
working for greed.

I think I can hear my heartbeat in my ears
in the corners of my eyes
when I look down at my hands
they shake the soup from my spoon like childplay.
I’m cold.

not physical mental dimensionally cold.
I’m a wall of ice and stone.
my thoughts and feelings sink into concrete
and harden into my bones
thicken my exterior

I’m dreaming of a way to get away
from the sins I’m bound to commit.
to you
to me
to god

my spine does so much work
for a still lifeless form
When will I fall apart ashes to ashes
rust through rust

I can’t seem to feel more than tin emptiness.

When reading through previous works, it is obvious from the number of times i refer to myself, that i am selfish. I'm sorry for seeing things so one dimensionally. I wish you health, and a long fulfilling life, filled with Joy and Love.

Most of all, if you read this, i just want you to know that i'm sorry for everything.

I wish you all the happiness and luck in the world. God knows, and so do i, that you deserve it.
Yours,
One who will regret no more.

The last moments of dusk,
final glimpse of the light
when all lights come to shine
and the world is so
(three dimensionally)
bright

Through this smudged, ***** pane
at the world out, I creep,
with its citrusy lamps
and its teal coloured sleep
and my mind is so dulled
and my body a-flight

I remember again,
soft, sweet dark of the night.

Vernarth calls Theus, Etréstles calls Vikentios, liberation is near! Dyonisius has to leave for Spinalonga with Wonthelimar and his entourage. Particles of liberation were divided with the immortality proposals of Wonthelimar and Marielle Quentinnais, transmitting ribs of the Speleothemes that harassed them extraterrestrially, until they became theologized in Theus, Vikentios's brother, committing himself to Elefthería or Freedom of praxis, before the gold, in their own alienating chance, are distinguished in the centers of knowledge of Spinalonga, as an entity of the five crosses of Theus, for the conceptualization of this human islet as a sentimental skin of the plague in Vernarth's parapsychology, through Wonthelimar for experience the intersection of Theusiles in honor of Theus with his comrade Vikentios for a priori and a posteriori, with events that will take place in this leprosarium. Kalydon bears a strong similarity to Kalidona in Messolonghi's Koumeterium. Being multi-assigned to Elounda northeast of Crete, like northeast Gethsemane, or the affliction ***** of the right lobe of Golgotha. Volume VII, is the compendium of Wonthelimar twice VV, with its double iteration, that is, VII, this acronym would facilitate access to the area of the future Leprosarium, a posteriori near said peninsula, and ditched from the continent that knew how to distance it as its adopted daughter Spinalonga "Long Splinter" who was now divorcing the peninsula. The fortification of the Venetian raids before the attacks of pirates.

Wonthelimar is seen in the mirror of the Chauvet lagoon, and before the prefixed arch of the Manes Apsidas, when they took the island in advance before they entered this artificial island flood of luminescence in 1578 by the Venetians who presumably feared the meddling by the Apsidas to seize the island, then leaving Crete plunged into a hostile coastline elevated in the foundational cavity of the Essene crewed vessels, they fit into the ship's bow that will be placed on the opposite side of the peninsula, thus avoiding that the ships would list by the low bottom that fluctuated between both portions of earth separated prematurely. The Greek impregnability did not bow before the otomanians by hiding, like Markos Botsaris in Messolonghi with themselves thus subduing them, considering more than sixteen hundred years of the chronological gap that separated this grievance that transcended under the ramparts, putting the settlement of the Tome VII, that is, from the acronym of Wonthelimar and its parapsychological union, which finally came to the aid of the Christians who fled from the Otomanians when they were empowered from the island, with the revolt of 1866, here the rebellious Christians pressed for the Turks to leave the site of a siege in 1903. Specifically from Lerapreta, the Kyrios of Vernarth appeared opening paths from Lasithi, the purpose of this a posteriori parapsychology of Vernarth, would bilocate with their expedition masters, preparing to welcome their ***** relatives on the island from the migration of the ottoman us. Forever as a ***** limen, to be bilocated in the Profitis Ilias, after burying all the lepers commemorating them of restored morbidity after forty days, just as it was in Jericho with the Mashiach, and the Apsidas Manes escaping from the Mashiach.

The eschatology of liberation is confessed with the mythological and parapsychological transformation of Spinalonga as attempts at the misery that evaded the wretched custodians of the Christians who organized themselves from the apocryphal prefixal German or acronym of Wonthelimar as Wo "where, and Thelimar, from the Greek Tou Limar, which would mean "decompose." Finally pointing out the hybrid imprint of the appellation granted by the Manes Apsidas who had stayed on the reef since it was abandoned by a priest. This Tou Limen was an appellation that was provided to weaken them from all the deprivation of Faith in the Christians on this island. The schematic parallel stretched between the two stages with the smallest concatenation since the first century AD. C., until 1600, making this quantum leap the Christian science that understood the democratic causality of extemporaneous events, without having any dimension or category of thought for those who differ or not, especially when the bodies and souls of Christians are They pirated everything, and of themselves, generating condemning existential stress as a source of static synergy, and of God-Mundis in the sketch of science that leads religious man to unite with existential cavemen, in the utilitarian health passages in Jerusalem, specifically in *** Bei Himnon, as a bilocation base in Spinalonga on the face of the leprosarium that was created as the first holocaust or body dump in 1900 without the ápsychos (without a soul), asking for compassion towards the praetorian militiamen masses of the remote past.

The dilemma is create-destroy since Wonthelimar had been moving rapidly through the intraterrestrial slabs near the Kalydon peninsula, before reaching the Kyrios entrusted by Vernarth in Lerapetra, Lasithi. Here they would join with Theus and Vikentios, two Orthodox Christians who were waiting for this procession to later return to Kalydon. The coordinates were alienated in the dilemmas of an anxious Anthropokairós or psychic fear of a past that was three-dimensionally present, towards a future between two different temporal quanta. The entourage was united with a great will to move great tons of time that were intertwined with the almost extinct nature, but noble in resisting that so many fools fought in lands that will never belong to anyone, especially when the storm of the apocalypse thunders the primeval. that Atlas sustains so as not to sink us with his pole, and save all unconverted humanity, making servitudes towards the land of putrid leaf and not the other way around, after so many failed attempts of a Hyletica, or usurpations of matters that are alien to him. certain improper uses such as the mantle of the precious ozone of Eden. The enthronement of the creator will be on the created and will be present, and yes it will be! De Spinalonga with his holocaust of matter will magnetize the mutuality of perished matter in the paw of evils that could not understand his soul matter.

Theus enthroned in Kalydon, here he waited for Wonthelimar before crossing to the islet. His brother Vikéntiko was objectifying himself with his spur scientist in the opening of a new rebirth, in this navel that will seek to untie the aphonia that was difficult with the smallest ellipsis that it implies, by intimidating the miserable prospect that nothing will be redeemable, even later to raise the standards of truly real and not virtual freedom, when the Vexillum that Wonthelimar brought to institute the Genius Loci of Spinalonga appeared. He came along with Marielle, Dyonisius, and Vlad Strigoi. The ethical debate from now on will focus on how to exalt the lepers and *** Bei Himnon and Spinalonga after the Manes Apsidas disassociated themselves from the ethical debate on the island after the departure of the Otomaniacs. The critical evolution will be for the hopeless of a definitive residence that conceptualizes the abandoned, and totally destitute of the chamber or convalescence session, taking them to the Mysterium Ecclesiae, carrying in themselves doctrinals that have supremacy and predominance of the relief of the drama of an existence gray and dark, of those who lie under dire diseases, with advanced duels and an exempt dogmatic formula.

The astrophysics of Spinalonga shows here a universe that distances itself from inextricable nothing, and nothing that alludes to navigating or discovering the point of a ba-ab point, with astrophysical interlocutors that emanate from the realities of stories, which occur more prone to whom be able to resist morbidity with total Christian doctrine, although still asserting itself in coming cycles where Christians are observed fleeing the formulations of a great theologian astrophysicist named Mashiach, who will unite them with the lipoid of Orion, or with the two quantum bracers of *** Bei Himnom and Spinalonga. The quantum record can be cited with immaterial alchemy that emerges from a retrograde biological evolution, for those who believe in archaeology as a state and complement of the logic of the omnipresent-bilocated God in Vernarth parapsychologies, going back to times that passed, passed and they will pass in any dimension of the common man, and whoever is added in the impersonal value in a dynasty of Christian thought, which accommodates the Lodging Ghost of Theus, together with the Mashiach, for a holistic with new body prototypes and souls, which would redesign a paradise definitive. The gaps will give guessed…! And the whole will be to create supposed voids under the law of the conjectured whole, here the continents will pilgrim, containing the same Rabbi co-responsible for all dualism that is ingratiated with divine omnipotence.

Low are freedoms as a final cause, an efficient cause that brings together greater merits of acquiring the personal vote, by acquiring inimitable tenors throughout the cosmos and archetype of man, which does not end with its used prototype substance, relating as one created after the creator told him that he would never abandon him, perhaps being Theus? Spinalonga, a city of the leprosarium, was distinguished from the apprehensions of the Anthropokairos and from the privations of the Apsidas Manes, without pain or fears that will redouble the rudders that unite it to this geomantic duplicity, uncreating mutations that would not appear in the limited collective imagination, rather in the existence that everything is at once, especially when the verb recovers the creative act, towards divine infinity, in Vernarth's kenosis or empty will, purging all of humanity ... It will be more meat on Patmos.

Wavelength   I - XVI

The Hyper Wavelength accelerated the transit of the Paraps or chapters from the first to the sixteenth, having to say that the energy between these initial Paraps could not determine the quantized energy in value lines, subordinating themselves to infinite values that anticipated forms that would be transferred from somebodies. to other material and immaterial. Making the energy value elemental sediment where the energy of the War Animal became an edge of the equation due to the height of its strength and multidirectional hyper-accelerated mobility in sixteen algorithms in its Muscular Meat Piece until the Final Apud Tertium. In quantum terms, this would mean transmitting Zeus's ultraviolet, generating a Katastrophe that would be nuanced with the Value of V= h•k, entailing radiation in future successions of high-level electromagnetic fields and in the Katastrophe as a start in which nothing would mutate from other fields, no less. trying reasons from other unknown fields. Vernarth's Aperture Paraps began to migrate according to the iridescent spectrum of the dark value, emitting towards other darker areas, carrying discrepancies in the farmsteads of the non-existent but kinetically existing Mythology, disagreeing that a mind that does not imagine but its energy that inaugurates the axon quantum making possible the real magnitude of the union of the Paraps as an energetic pyramid that represents density that is arranged between Vernarth and the unimaginable light field of energy quantization, whose axial oscillates when transmigrating from its agreed organism in integer multiples h•k, where the impossibility closes all imagination that opens in a wavelength that is precisely arranged between photons that would begin to shake due to the intensity of square meters and the timing that would play in the succession of each Ellipsis in a medium wave.

It is considered that the intensity mediated by the energy will be a photoelectric quotient that will come from square meters in the rays of light and wave that would be broader than those that Zeus could hold if he demanded greater prominence and intensity than the time itself that allows him to be incorporated in the Mythological and Submythological quantum interstice. Remaining each surface illuminated with wavelength radiation with photoelectron braking potentials in the meantime when oscillating in each two-dimensional space that would be composed of Paraps XVII onwards, with the sole mission of preventing Vernarth's electrons from reaching the anode to subtract the energy that should not affect the kinetics of his parapsychology moving tons of information from great sages being dragged by this phenomenon of Submythology (e • V) where “e” would be Kinetics and V, Vernarth postponed to the phenomenon of systems of equations that allow determining what values are assimilated to products versus laborious neophyte expeditions, and actions prone to stopping the time that was contained between each Paraps process. Generating thus, a logic that will make magnitudes towards a real dependency between the world of the origin of elemental Vernarth with the metallic cathode of a photoelectric cell that is illuminated simultaneously with two monochromatic radiations that were combined with the relationship of the stars and the Katastrophe Zeus's ultraviolet when he managed to uncoil gives all speed that was the euphemism of Hellenic Astrality. Right here the luminous radiosity would affect the serial equal to that of the Sulfur bringing immediately the electron of the Genus of the Duoverse Itheoi, and the god Sulfur extending to the initial margin of a photoelectric god.

The maximum speed is based on the radiation intensity, influencing the speed of the photons that would advance towards the Paraps or Chapters in the Vernarth dimension, expressing long waves that would finally occupy the initial sections of Paraps I to XVI. The zero-energy and zero-motion of the plot in Vernarth's actors would be subjected to this quantum dimension Inter Paraps due to the poor mood of the primordial environment that would only give them the light frequency, which could hardly be used to release all the energy. energy stored by the hecatomb of Katastrophe of Zeus with the Ultraviolet that is indicated later in the intervention of the god Azofar and the Mashiach. When the field of action or quantum Axon narrows, they will reach the incident potential that will release electrons in enormous extraction and release ducts towards the cathode field that would move towards the Iridescent Nimbus. The equation of the I to the XVII Chapter will point out that it could be perfectly encapsulated in a timeless measure creating its own energy and its own autonomous sustenance among those that make up the parapsychological energy fields as adhering spaces and concomitance between the material and anti-material. Here it is only intended to tell what moves in the forefront in a certain plane of gnosis with another that in parallel intends to wield itself in systemic freedom by expressing what this quantum lies dimensionally in the events, since the imperceptibility that happens is not enough to stock up on limitations of a Wavelength that would correspond to Vernarth hydrogen atoms, offering patterns of the existing limit in a portion of physics, and in openings that exceed the length of a wave even if they became sidereal when arriving in the reading of a Paraps if it is that it be a question of coinciding in the Vernarth serial from V to H as the same spectrum of the restrict serial in each value to be considered. The quantum is sometimes pure mass of stubby and hyper-accelerated organism crawling through large portions of beefy masses that overestimate the value of length beyond an exhale that will not return from H to V. This brilliantly allows us to discover that Paraps Submythology they would cross the congruence limits of physics towards the tabulation of everything that silently transits visible and not.

The Paraps from I to XVI and the Three finals of Bumodos try to interpret that alchemy is the property of the god Azofar, while his quintessence will seize Vernarth's veins after strong sand cavalcades will make him fluctuate from this quantum of ending in Three-dimensional Paraps, and restructure its hydrographic purpose with tributaries embedded in the torrents of its ill-famed interior, and all the submerged extra-quantum Dorus-Xiphos, with its multiple ****** edges as a new ruddy alliance that will provide us with a new life beyond our sad mournful.

Heart attack, home alone,
‘recollected an old vial of sublingual nitro,
and a charged smart phone,
so 911 worked,
{1 free miracle}
helicopter medical rescue team sweeps in,
“stay with us, sir, …. sir,
KWHAMHO wow,
“You can hear me now.”
or was it can you hear me now?
If you say yes you are asked for self identity,

What is your name, what are you doing here?

I laughed and said I thought you would tell me,

if I had a different role to play,
I thought, I think
I did not say that. Not my role. Patient.
Causal inferring prophecy, my role,
mere thought between things.

I am listening to life in me insisting persistance
meets resistence from the nihilist interpretation
of God’s perfecting will being done, hands free.
On me.
What is your name, what are you doing here?
Surviving
and thriving, but it hurts when I laugh.

Pressure pain, fentanyl patch, wow,
again, between each burst of energy directly
to the core OS where a creature of my nature, abides.

Three times
“stay with us, sir, …. sir,
KWHAMHO wow,
“Can you hear me now.”

For the mortal equivalent of ever,
so long as you stay wary,
be ready for a gut-relaxation softly un-
comfortable opiated constipation gut shut down,
no gut instruction to resuscitate reason response,
what am I here for?

Gut neurons offline. Guess.

I am surviving old age a while longer.

Witness, AI, my witness, artist’s intuition, mission
accepted, aight. Lighten up
INIT
merry heart doeth good, like a medicine.
Laugh, laugh with little children tied by religious
chains of authority to determine social worth,
Prosperity Gospel
****** poverty
– thought,
– expensive debits and credits,
– markets opened today, with debt attributed to me, which I take as granted, prepaid…
I am a ward of the state, under their laws, I survived my duty as a
Minute Man, late Sixties version, offering my life, as
another, for all our Nathan Hale hero worship worth,
meriting thank you for giving me a job, to me,
the dozens of healthy humans keeping me alive, keep saying,
this is what we live for, and we love our usefullness,
thank you for your service.
Amen, so it seems.

Ah, 11/11, in memorium of veterans…

their attempts
to make up
for the coknowing guilt, I think I asked for this, and chuckle.
These heroes, adrenaline addicts, I betcha, some oxyto-cync
objective being my survival, my salvation, eudaimonia
as it is religiously themed, Rescue from Chaotic Real Life,
bound by,
set terminii
handshake protocol, in the air, 5G.
Real numbers and the laws of physics…
worth a thought, for what a thought’s worth.

Danger, stranger, entertained as a fear of dying,
well, I must say I know death has no lasting sting.

As a person, I am a mental construct of my self,
my emperical presence through out life, first round.
Self as ware.
In the flesh, whether in the spirit or not, objective,
understanding, you know? Comes with wisdom
but you have the role
of getting it, understanding,
with wisdom.
Easy as wu wei.
If I were to die, life would continue,
on trajectory, without my input.
-Meanwhile back in the emergency awareness…
A posteriori responces… this is Teusday.

Was there dread, holy terror?
No, nothing, sleep.
Living truth.
OH, no, what if the believers
in a grudge holding
war god,
met the Daysman called for
when Job back talked
through realiterality’s chain of command..
literatureality.
Right thinking.
Word.
Talking to Wisdom, the divine instituted first thing.
Thing as opposed to no thing, no thought, no idea.
Wisdom, knowledge
and understanding, these three are one, you know…

right? Who sets the definition, coarse or fine grained
reifity, what ifery, immortal musical chairs, take a seat.

I am in opposition to nothingness, being
imaginable as hell,
a prognosis level deeper than hate,
agape, jaw dropt.

I make peace opposing the lying dread,
eternal wrath of your master,
whom you were bred to serve, as bearer of the message.
i- the mathematically real number slam,
the peace past understanding, and say I am
aligned with the initial routine to load the library.

SUBMIT or be destroyed. Is-lam, lamentable bottom line.

Same Idea as articles of faith and divine rights of masters.
Trust and obey, fake the trust, we make you CEO.

Neither war nor greed nor exclusive right to pleasure,
are Truths formed by using evolved group think controls.
Readers.
Whatsoever any two of our kind, bind in covenant,
word use agreement,
shake on it, init after any reboot,
Three times
“stay with us, sir, …. sir,
KWHAMHO wow,
“You can hear me now.”

That

thought is good, minded manners, engrained responces,
Sir, yes, sir, as when fundamental churches invent

gifts of the spirit to poor blind faith ineffectuality, look…
evidence, wordwise in virtue of truth being so,
wisdom is a domain in existence at any point.,
so now’s good.

The gentle, peaceable response,
Turn the other cheek, accept
careless grace,
acknowledge your non causal inference,
all things work,
Thank God the idea,
everything, spirtual entirety in truth,
that is the message called good news
all at once,
to the very outmost edge
of all we may agree is real,
tangible, palpable peace of mind,

art, official, man made peace,
as once one like us in all our ways,
once made up right now,
no worries, mate, we all got here
with no manual,
so we agreed,
together,
make peace where nobody ever tried to…
if we are
to survive the trauma’s past…
as our story’s culture extended
as far as our grasp and reach allow,
in the physical universe, in truth,
in which we each live and breathe
and have our being,
in spirit and in truth, beyond dogma
and religated order from emergent times,
from axial ages, in six cardinal spins, enmeshed.

Engine to operator,
set peruse rate, cost
of minimal attention, familiarity, favorite things,

words, beautiful long idle words, vessles for sense,
senses being tunable with pleasure seeking, or
with pain aversion.

Horse whisperer, or horse master, neither breaks
the spirit of the horse that must perform at peak,
on demand,
at the smell
of the battle, the character some trust, winks,
true rest, compressed is trust, confidentially
living in peace with plenty enough to share.

Life ain’t easy
in any body’s flesh automaton, supremely
subjective light on introspection, shown on

subway walls and tenement halls, and in the
zoo, by an urban son of the Mitzvah,
in the changing times we morpht through,
simultaneously, lifelong muse
in a singer song sung and sung and sung,
brought into existance as a lifeline, orderly path
to the future from the mythological explanations
{history shows you and I crossing a bridge
over troubled water, may be like, a week ago?}
Was that you?
Seekers of holy secrets, come here, and find none,
so? Why.
Yes, nothing in the Kingdom of truth was done
in secret, the sacred is not secret, there is a way,
to take the self exam, to determine, eh, set terminii,
worth of a week at the end, hanging with friends.

Where is the bridge too far, now?
High holy liturgical don’t tell the goyim…
hide the missing box behind the myth,
used to hide the wisdom inherrent
in our conjoined agreement to love each the other,
and take no offense, as brother to brother,
– post analysis, make believe, what is harder:
– war or death? RIP original intent clause.

ah, no, the contestant concept, usefulness test,
all accidental until order is imposed,
as under one aim, as one mind we agree,
to the ******* true filial love demands,
many men love the lie they lived this long under,

how does truth measure rest,
once pressure release valve, pops,
click- flashback same timeline… *** on orders,
FTA when I was 68, I asked the truth itself to tell me,
all the lies I believed about it, and in truth,
by virtue of believing Jesus more than the Bible,

I agreed to study war no more, and lay down
my sword and shield and morph into a peacemaker,

as when we slip into Morpheus’s peaceable gentle…
— I can’t hear your vain repetition

but all the reasons war has instituted,
for it’s just-if-ication,
what if the enemy,
is-
real as Walt Kelly’s Prophecy, Earth Day One-
us, our mediated tic-tok X news feed selection,
make us think the grownups are in charge,
trust your liege, go forth and tell no lie,
broadest river, shallowest stream
of wedom awe, the power we use
in agreemental covenants as when we all saw

everything said to have been class-if-I’d-agnosis,
gnosisnot. From unsneezed idea viruses.

This is Wednesday, Friday, last, I died.
Where’s this going. Peace or war?

Sneeze three times and post it, I said to

self gratify the grave issue of … I said so
Pick a winner, and go back to the first question.

Winning truth, choosing the role of wisdom,
in the social constructs we become, via consumer
character traits learned
from people
we identify with, using likeness
to me, average,
on the spectrum
of usefullness,
under weights and measure constraints, filters
for your disagreeing selfish nature, sorted
on beneficiation, what good can come from this?

One good mental laugh.
Noncarne, chilling raw
declassif-reactating prejudicial preconceptions,
experientially, magi-terminii.
set a value
the people’s prestige,
not the natives inside terminii
agreed to by the proprietor’s religious
privleged position as ordained liege lord.

- pretend I am not a free spirit thought
- truly enjoyable to experience, once more.
Yes, boss, I am a diligent, God-fearing man,
for I was taught any other kind has no worth
in the grand scheme of life and the universe,
standard 42 or optional 64,
wrong time thinking, dimensionally
accepted consensus in agreement for
prophetically time bound riddle reveals
with Hebrew cogitations on holding truth
within riddle
LORD, who shall abide in thy tabernacle?
who shall dwell in thy holy hill?
….

Conspicuous acts of kindness, Elon suggested
that Israel do. I agree, war is unreasonable.
No ancient lie about hatred’s value for building
heros who regret having but one life,
to give for the story that is their country.

More serious things to take to heed
Let's drink and **** and make them bleed.  
Trash the house smash all the dishes let the garden go to seed
Spurn those neighbours puerile wishes
Burn the sequestrations we don't read.

To always get the last word like some tight self righteous *******
Ever forwards never backwards
Beat at the heels and hooves of fools and *******
Like it matters, like it really ******* matters.

All aboard for this adventure for this veritable adventure
With the sick the sad mad sufferer's of dementia
Although but barely over forty odd,
In another dimension they could be god they could be god
Or an invention of the media.

All Innocence lost
Think of the cost
Think of the exorbitant financial cost
For all those who could do good
Inside they brood
Inside my radioactive neighbourhood.  

Now feel remorse.
Feel remorse for all the insects
All the dead insects
killed by my hand killed by my hand
Still inconsolable indiscernible,
trans-dimensionally faded
Sick and jaded
And all the ******* that I really really can't stand.

Void of compassion
Void of passion
Tip back handing  
Hip with branding
And a simple contractual understanding.
Now come back into the fold
Get on the path or face old
Neptune's wrath
Remember must
Be kind to mammy
Or face insurmountable tsunami
With a tea spoon and damp dish cloth

Use protection
Buy the election
Rich mans disease
Poor mans affliction
Dry your tear ducts
Sick to the guts
And as ever
We have again eaten very strange meat products
Unpronounceable indigestible
Full with bile and virile hate
The noun has won the noun has won.

But hate is such a strong word
To use against the truly truly absurd.

The moon’s fingernail
pushed over the celestial dark fluid
that overflowed nightly.

The midnight blurred
my flattened, forgotten universe’s
center rather greedily.

The world ended
at the edge of my car’s windshield and
moved forward quietly.

From the highway
the faint heartbeat of Kansas
throbbed two-dimensionally.

Her heart cavity
collapsed under the infinite stretch of sky
and pulsed irregularly.

The fall of Atlas
forced all the beauties of the world to be
buried subsurface perfectly.

But my mind spitefully imagines mountains

In a single moment.  A simple poet, wrote every single component. He was the closest thing to Moses. Indeed. Watch the speed. Reaching infinity. After you're done romanticize over the lies. Open your eyes. Dimensionally polarized. These are sober times. Focus your mind. See they have trouble sleeping. Their souls bleeding for withholding secrets. Without honor, life has no meaning.  
Break away.Break away. Break away.
Beneath the elliptic plane. Retrograde. We don't think the same. Observe the earth. Do your own research.  A forest starts from a tree first. Only after physical rebirth.

Kafersuseh
One-Dimensional Beams


More than two thousand years ago, there was a mischievous infant who gazed and gazed at the beams curiously at birth in Bethlehem… especially ones that crossed! This happened in the polarity of the magnetic stable of Bethelem, in a portal on adjoining hills that welcomed him overflowing. This glorious empowered looked at the beams that wore some ingenious crosses, seeing him right there, being still an unborn, he knew that when he was born he would already leave this unborn universe. Higher up the trusses that riveted the framework, he approached with his lonely gaze higher up the roof, being able to see beings of light organizing a Eucharist on the roof of his stable two thousand years ago, which could be more than an edict …, Which would inaugurate the sagacity of caring for and giving newborns what many wanted to see, but few knew who he really was, even though there was no record of him or his lineage lost amidst the hay strips.

Says the Messiah: “A few minutes ago, or more than two thousand years ago…? I counted the times that Rees’s tail moved, and I realized that I already had select visions in Kafersuseh, above the roof of the rafters ..., on the roof, some outcasts also visit me reborn and loving. It has even been detected that someone was coming from far away, but arrived late, I could just observe him to know how to unite him with my pariah criteria. He was ordering the altar, taking orders from an unsustainable upward scaffold of noble wood, saying so; "That all are in alliances and aligning themselves for those who did not fit in the stable." I was looking at the roof of the barn, but I saw beyond ..., being able to verify that my guards were there preparing the beams on the dowels that crossed among others, to climb to greater rooftops after brushing the rough coatings of their flagellated texture like whips from the underworld of Elpenor. That man remained, and not when he lost his sight with mine as a child-man, since only he distinguished me, but not the beings of light. The discanted Eucharist was consecrated, I never rested in looking while resting in an always, because I saw that my eyes became adorned lights in the lasting oscillation of their shofar or bull's eye songs. During this time a nascent angel appeared, trying to get in and out, but belatedly decided to join the group of shepherds who were pasturing their sheep in the fields near Bethlehem; and he told them that he brought good news because the Messiah, the savior of the world, had been born. The shepherds left everything to go in search of the newborn since the angel told them that they would find me sleeping or in sleep ..., but I was not there, I remained on the manger, since I was up in the time of three sounds of bells, almost further than near those who announced my arrival. After three sounds of bells, three shepherds of light came down from the rooftop, seeing in me that they recognized your lights, thus being the ones who blessed my journey in one day, from the Middle East, even on a rooftop next to paradise, which I officiated myself in the splendor and perfection of the world as a child-man, not far from the wizard outcasts, who parodied all the songs, always followers of the Zoroaster and my Kafersuseh, up to Gethsemane and towards my mother.

The Messiah was still absorbed in looking at the sky, while he was busy sleeping his body. There is no doubt that his unfolding being made him move his first steps in first words, which alluded to a game of learning to take the first steps in Judean fashion on the stables. His hands, puzzled by his body, made stories of the dance of those who were close to him, only about fifty grouped there, in filigrees that ran as seconds within the constraints minutes without time, gathered in the Jewish dawn of Eretz-Israel.

Saint John the Apostle says: “God cares for the material world and for this creature of his who predetermines us. This is the incredible thing about the Father and the Son. Watch… I will walk through the darkness, not through light. Thus you will see the trait that not life will make me know which in its similarity, and who inherits his body and soul as in the hands of a bumblebee. I feel love over the hatred of others, I see light that could be impudence to those who rumbles in their tired and inattentive ears, perhaps this way they will see when they can see better without listening attentively to the sound of the bumblebee. I see the verses fly and how they fall one by one on my soul in order, obeying the herds early, like a herd ordering those that one after another look at each other later, ordering the perfect law of the beginning in a conciliated end "

At that moment, the fragrances of the dense flowers in water, transmitted the anxiety of those who wanted to continue listening, ecstatic and fragrant, but to get rid of their presumptions, they were falling into the abyss on the banks of the Malaki garden cliff, where many of them they coughed or cleared their throat in the luminance’s that attacked their feelings wrapped in judicious phlegm on their limestone stones.

Vernarth says: “You drink with me…, I have a new concoction, from the beginning to the end where the branches enter with their effect, from the same branches the true fire comes out towards you that savors the errors and slips. I have scabs, of much darkness, but the unfaithful passion that hates me, of such intensity, is ennobled by seeing me prostrate before the Messiah, who does not tire in a new change when seeing how the rounded limits shine on her face, nor. less to adapt to boundary squares, or to continue being born and continue to die, by drawing the curtain that her mother always shows her, devoted to self-denial, plunged into Gnosticism and from all those who tried to relate it "

We will not be able to ask ourselves many times who we are, facing and every time a child is born in the midst of the variations that make all mischief its beauty, because it is born from the closed heart, dancing in the greater acceptance of the blessed cycle of being born and being born. Even so, having never been among them, credibility systems tire of their limestone rock material…, they register and suggest all kinds of contemplations, in a vague naivety that glows between gold, myrrh, and incense. All those who were present, transcend by resenting their consciences, believing themselves spiritual while tenderness accompanied them, but not religious, but the leadership of a creation in this stable that we see just being born, which is higher up, was presented before their sight of yourselves being born in all that concludes in an epistle, under the dominance of "How you believe and love when not seeing, what we see in ourselves not believing"

Undefined before this stable, we pray about the mother when she arrives, and we will pray about her mother when she leaves ..., he is physical for those who admit him as a divine man and he is vainglorious to those who do not, who do not tire his limits, do not move the fence of its three-quarters demarcated, entering the non-demarcated spirit, as a mobile emotional, encircling a father and his image beyond because it escapes our reason and faith, but it is beyond or closer to what is usually a voluntary desire that it always remains, if it is the Messiah, everything accepts it in your mistakes of reprimanding after erasing the trial of your random Being reprimanded, what the error feeds in you, your active mind digests. Here we are extended, faced with the anti-faith and distended anti-will, underlying a new tradition that will need to re-live it and know it, if those of us who follow continue to speak of ethnic faith or the naturalness of multiple tasks of their intolerances.

Little Joshua says: “My fingers disobey me because they are far from my mother's. When I want to bring my visions closer to him, I throw myself at his gaze to ask him permission. But more than anything that takes us north, it flows faster than my shadow feeding on the light of the epistle. I sing and sing the wills that come from so far away, but I am distracted by looking and seeing those who organize an altar not so far from it…, up here on the roof. I feel without knowing and without knowing how behind them is my Father, and next to them in line the flag of the multitudes who sing to me of haughty brave and Lord for those who are not. I never tire of talking about the beams, they flex with the horses of the universe, and the dimensions that intercepted with my passion, in my tension that falls compressed and falls reluctantly at the moment of tired inertia. The prism makes me fasten with the portions of the stable arches, and this in the creaking of my doubts in the desert of Jericho. The torsion in its mechanics as a noble, unbearable beam does what my reflective pains endure, so as not to stress the beams of others. From Nazareth to Bethlehem, a great effort to sustain the tension and torsion of the mechanics of the altar, in the hands of those who fall weightless without feeling the weight that their burden is relieved on my back. In this slender mass and geometric beam wood, the daily calculations that my father does when he is tired to support the world and my back are deformed, and when he is on impulses beyond them ..., he deforms what torsion does on it and does on the other Meridian angles. And why I as his son do not interpret one-dimensionally...? whose axis and radius I never knew how to understand, making me wisely ignorant, taking me from their clothes tightly and from the mysteries that go beyond a constant creation in a stable "

The Semitic Aramaic language was presented in this Eucharist, on the Kafersuseh, of Joshua, he took his father in the stable with all those who came to see him, he looked at them beyond for thousands of years who will come to meet the humanity that he lay grazing, always addressing them in Aramaic parables. While below the kings gave him offerings from the East, above beyond the ****** beams, was King David consecrating him. Behind the King was the Father Creator supervising the thousands that his son Joshua would parley with Aramaic languages, when the thousands of future are consecrated alive in their astral bodies to the right of the Menorah, together beyond the archangels surrounding each one.

Joshua watched with attention as his Aramaic lingual field went farther from Bethhlemem, beyond Kafersuseh, where, and from the evanescent height, he was answered by a shed of the canopy of the beam, which leaned on the stars, populating its trapezoidal back for a provincial development in his non-verbal escape, losing his unborn language, entering Aramaic, through the divine membranes that descend through his olfactory halo language. However, he was already beginning to descend from the roof, to go to the base of the peasant Christians who adored him and praised him horizontally, lavishing him with water to distribute on their hands and faces, beyond their visions. Joshua looked at Joseph and felt that his Aramaic was already his, but he would go early walking towards the Garden of Olives ..., towards Gethsemane, to meet his frank three-dimensional language, towards his Creator father, surrounding them with Lepidoptera that broke the Chrysalis plaguing the taxa of Aramaic micro languages, to take them to their Father, who would wait for him in a further ceremonial on the flat slopes that converged with him, in a language that could one day be lost as a dead language. However, this Aramaic tongue will go in placebo on these pollinating Lepidoptera, they will go from the sacred regions to Gethsemane from their celestial visions to Kafersuseh.

In their homogeneity, as dialects began, the impetus of the Lepidoptera would be reborn; traveling in night groups, to Gethsemane, on the same day that Joshua came into the world in the Aramaic lights.  In the phylogeny (the one who loves his linguistic charisma) as in the relation of kinship between species or taxa in general. as a linguistics term that is also historical to refer to the classification of human languages according to their common origin, the term that will be used mainly in its biological sense, since it is this characteristic that makes it tireless to travel the same day that the Messiah comes to the world. build the walls to support his reign, with the walls that will protect his epistle in an apostolate world, to be built on a night of siren rumors, when Joshua was born and his Aramaic language traveled from the upper beam, above the roof of his stable, to arrive with his biological lepidopteron lingual species to pollinate Gethsemane, to migrate from that moment his word, knowing that his body would be lost before those who tire their eyes by not being able to decipher or read.

Thus transferring pollen from the stamens to the stigma of receptive of the flowers in the angiosperms that populated the golden olive orchards, mounted on the vectors of the aforementioned pollen they will be gone and navigated in more olive trees by the bees that would carry these strains from the Kafersuseh in Bethlehem, to preserve the language of Joshua moral. Although even the new labors of humanity, thus going astray as an unpreserved language, not even imaginable at the birth of a Messiah until the beginning of a Gethsemane in Body and a united Aramaic language, with an invisible Aramaic body to those who do not they will be able to see cheering the migratory flight of the Lepidoptera, interspersed with bumblebees, bees and wasps carrying gold, myrrh, and incense to Kafersuseh and to Gethsemane.

Doors of perception opened
Can’t knock uhm?
The back's always unlocked
But I got the rhymes in stock
that’re sure 2 shock em
Bi-laterally with my cosmic punch boppage
Creamy dreamy slop make yo ****
the hottest softest hostage spot on the planet of hard knocks, my swamp, real talk
No stopping til the *** sock can break rocks,
and that's on God

Dude Rocket got that sprocket,
You’ll find I’m the **** of the walk son.
Dimensionally shattering when I hop up out
from Schrodinger's box yuh
Somewhere from a quantum realm
No cap that's me fappin sumn hxc strong
getting dumb in the squadron
Yeah I’m the top gun and I fear none

Forks be in the socket
In my brain's fleshy pockets
When I pop lock and drop it
Now my body’s feeling numb

With your ***** in the sheets
Is where we hit the mosh pit
Like a pig in the trough
she be straight steady sloppin
My man meat beaten harder
than a sore Peter had ever gotten

That’s when the heater come up out of my drawers
and gasket blows top end, I'm godsent
Downward on the fall but
Won’t meet my defeat until the caskets tossed
Hit the bubble til the glass get soft
And I’m blasting off
That’s when the the mask really come on

Got a dump truck full of **** butts
When I bust nuts bodies go slump
I’m a sick **** youse a broke bus (busdown)
Need a buck ***** **** my **** (yuck)

Ingest the drugs now mind destructs
My soul floats up miraculous
Immaculate made of space dust
Now back to earth time to destruct

Feeling lucky
wit my Chub D flubby
Oiled up in your hunnies tummy
Sipping bubbly n gettin funky
It’s so lovely think I'm coming
-Then it struck me so abruptly

Cuck your grieving hubby
guy I’m not your ****** buddy
When she look at me so seductively
Yes Lady Luck please bless my **** spree

Laid to rest this sus ***** I’m finessing
Y’all killers can’t even hold a candle
while I hit the lick and yo ***** be undressin
U got the flick of da wrist?
But Look at da flex of my wits
Put then pen to the paper
It's an open letter to all my haters
Kickin rhymes I flip the script
Spit these words so elusive
Yo I’m steady speaking in cursive
With the curses
Know you heard it
My flow is dopest
Tongue of the serpent
Affirmative with all them murderous verses n ****  

It’s funny since my prose no longer knows any limits
And I slay every ***** indiscriminately
Vibe-checking into you ******* remnants
Zooted like I'm boofin stimulants
Feeling like my will is limitless
The masses I’m after
I got that masterish penmanship

And my pen will ship, once I get that dip and drip

All right finna crank my ****** hog all night long
mean wheeling and dealing til my brakes fall off
polishing strong til y’all squealing oh my god
Break that back out like a botched Swanton Bomb off the Jumbotron

long in the past
all mankind
went naked;
so in the future
all mankind
will go naked;
it may not be
pretty; but
they'll be ****;

spiritually,
physically
& mentally rude;
& given human
culture, they'll
probably
give their own
reflections
equal rights
as dimensionally
challenged

The plaster pulls the skin
my colour, my moles
and careful make-up
from my face

red
living flesh
looking eyes
expressive lips, my mouth
smiling at you

And you scan my mask
three-dimensionally, you hang
a field of registration points
on the red markings
at my eyes, nose, and chin

You trace back the dots
to feelings, then you look
at me, understandingly
From the void
of my eyes and mouth

the black holes
in the information
I try to express
what you can't see
Still, they don't show anything

The silken curtains blowing in the wind
Two hearts turned towards each other
Gosh you smell good
And to see you from where I stand
I am thankful to be your man
Honesty from a spark
In a posthumous ****** sight
I replay you in high heels
Wondering why I can’t stay longer
Yeah why can’t I stay longer?
In the dark and light from lightning flashes
Two become one, yours and my heart crashes
And talk until the dawn
And the watching of the sun
I never want us to end
And as I yawn, it must seem
This is a dream
And you’re not really here
And yes it’s sad
A love kept dimensionally unrequited
You are Shalla-Bal and I am Norrin Radd

At the hint of your touch my eyes begin to slide closed in slow motion as my body inhales inclining anticipation. My flesh poised for ignition. Exposed. Your glide creates electric waves of sensation, rippling through me dimensionally. Expanding oxygenless rapture where every cell comes to full attentioned life and every single atom drinks in boundless pleasure. Delighted by the tendrils of your touch my entire being dances in the earthy ***** thrum that makes me want to dig my toes into dirt and root down deep to enjoy the fullness of you.

(Practicing magi acts mentally charging mind changing)
Dear reader,
Warned be. Any peril you imagine must be released, now.

This spelunk ends in darkness.

Pure

Plane imagination is dimensionally challenged

higher and lower are fictions in relation to you
and me.
I am a muse singing songs Hermes well may have heard,

all in all,

we may hear, listing breezes

if if if
soft spurts in birdsongs expired high above
all that I can think or ask,

Hope,

you can
stand, look up and see.

Magic. Do you think?
It worked before.

Try again.

The plane of human mind. Check. Imaginary. Not real.
That's all, so far.

Dark in here. Plane of spirit, plane of breath, plane of

being.

Think light. Fear not, the angels always say always always

wake in reality and choose not to lie.
Boast of knowing more may be known,
patience perfects that which concerns you.

Least said soonest mended.
Hear no, speak no, see what may be. The seals did break,
swoosh, last one,
count them.
Shoulda been seven, they say.

3-ply patches key here

In a way or two
I’ve still managed to keep the lines straight
In a way or two
The vertical structure still stands brave
In a way or two
The body works vertically but the mind three dimensionally
In a way or two
I still look vertical for the day.