New York's lights confused with stars. "Bright," says the young
girl. If only they could have their wish, they would be forever
in a daze removed of a daily routine. It seems, the thing that
makes them happy is the soul of another. Misunderstood by the
rest who desire materialistic object or fame. Those who want
nothing more than to be above the rest are only to be snickered
upon. Signatures developed in such a fashion that no two are
alike. Respect becomes the main consumption of the city.
The little girl stares into the New York horizon, the only one she
knows. But yet she smiles, looking into her grandfathers eyes.
lSituation occurring at an utmost pace. Suppressed with the current
product. Visions embedded in the blood stream flowing at a pace that
the human mind can only view in disgust. Its desire to reach the eyes
has no obstacles, but plenty reason. Its increasing price per dose is
defeating the mind at an alarming rate. Insatiable wants thought to be
needs. I have a game now.
Eyes. Fixated upon a golden leaf. Standing upon the open window,
ceilings overturned, vision dilated into a coma. Feeling the insides.
Cold. Shivers sent throughout. Rejected. Heart pulse defined with a
silky string. Lost are the previous encounters of introduction. This
silky string held near. Listen, and you will the first and last to
know. The retina excludes itself from the being. The golden leafs
corporal structure infatuates the eye leading to the brain. Its radiant
sparkle refrains from the grabbers grip. Lost in a state of dillusion
the mind cannot understand, but yet underestimates the situation at
Enthralled. A word with no meaning to whom it applies. Voices heard
in the head of the normal. The absurd hear the neglected truth shouted
in stentorian voices. They dont listen. Nature recieves its commonly
thought due spiritualistic rituals in place of suspicion. Absurdity
becomes the only light. On their knees, it consumes their lives in a
timely, traditional, frequently irrational manner. They condense into
one being of omnipotence.
If you could only speak to it, you would be a god to us.
A single sheet of glass creates the threshold between a seemingly
inertiatic force and infatuation between the two ears. A stroke of
dust creates an cataclysmic implosion. The once inertiatic force
becomes an omnipotent being with an adamant grasp. Unsuitable for
living, this isnt the place for him. The head pulses unpleasantly, in
perfect rhythm. Earth, visually beautiful from the view point of the
crushed suit. When and where, undetermined, unknown, in this collosal
dot of nothing. Baphomet appears. He follows unwillingly.
A mere image voiced in the opinions of the hungered saint known for his
ability to cause emotional turbulence at the blink of an eye, the flash
of his hand, his insensitive scent to find the next victim, paired, in
the eyes of a wolf suited to fight a bear. A flicker of a light,
causing a misjudged apparatus hanging in the ceiling. Still.
Emotionless. Awaiting his life. Moral stability unstable as the
clock ticks towards infatuation and tocks towards mental mutilation.
Its pathological mind paired with an overshadowed soul. Its mind is
doubled. Its soul is no more. Its intrinistic bodily functions
replaced with a single beat. What used to be its organs becomes an
armamentarium of anger. Undecided. Its insides filled with such a
nothingness that baffles its followers, a human mind, incomprehensible.
A desire, incomprehensible. A book that explains to the reader its
flaws, that attempts to teach but only murmurs. A slave to discovery,
he belongs no more. He dwells near his lens. His tool is simply
convex. His assistant the type writer. Criminalistic impediments push
through to knowledge.