One, to close eyes and look within gods starting point. Lifes' disciple: nothing, it mirrors everything.
Could I write anything that would remain true? Everyday everything is constantly changing, and my existence is placated by its own mirage. The reflection I see isn't me, yet it is. I have these thoughts of self mutilation that have swarmed me like flies on top of shit, and what's worse is i can't feel love. Are those words of truth? "I can't feel…
Where we were, the furthest out of time Stretched out convulsions contort Into memory in third eye propulsion, Explosive.
the rideaway.
One last note before I go, One more plead Another need met, Saddened side up To our splendor brigade.
Subversion of the sacred decorate note, Lives are abhorrent at the gates of its primordial order, The original…
Will is free, as intent has cost.
Beacons’ loud beeps, inside littered mind froth.