What facilitates a transformation to the other? What can be done to unwind a malignant knot? Who can save our souls from lives of rot? Who gives us the power to take what we want?
Machination of mind, Sharp Shapes and Italic Metalics, Kindred Spirits, Elegant breeze piercing the Soul, With proximity to divine sublimations, oozing triangles, Your eyes glaze from coronation of lilacs.
Seemless aroma spawned from the creation of center oriented webs. Everyday they are exercised, everyday they beg for substance, everyday whispers fall through cracks as if chaff was inspiring their movements.
Void crawling outword to approach the ever expanding span of influence. Inanna. It runs faster and faster through unmarked rooms with its destination written on its RNA strings as tablets. Inanna. Reaping of the harvest, we will use those blinded by greed to grant life to divinity. Inanna. Making love to the sharp sharpes, feeling satisfaction for the first time, and encapsulating names written on cornea.
Ichor treasured much greater then gold. Man need not place value upon that which simply stimulates his brain with its false promises of grandeur. Your blood. Treasure you blood. In the depths of oceans long past, symbolism thrives once more. Remember ages of short sentences and long days. Lunar prevails, solar fell decades ago in fire and smoke.
Changes made to the subconscious, the original catalyst disregarded and forgotten, many many times layered, person created through obfuscation. A triangle, a compass, shifts endlessly stitched into forehead, different formulations created during various periods. Oscillating through their various forms to function most effectively. Ego, Self-Awareness, Flesh, all corners.
Endless cycles of tearing down and rebuilding, you seek such lofty goals as to remove all fetters from which you came, to finally see with your eyes, constantly fight for even a slight amount of differentiation. What troubles your soul? Why have you set your soul and sight to feel such pain? To create is to god. All is forming, much as the sea to the rock to the pebble to the sand. All is flowing, much as the songs, to the chorus, to the note, to the vibrations. Remember the mind you share. Remember the infinitesimal clearance offered up to those who worship.
Internal logging of life as it seeps into spines. Rushing and coarsing as if draw to the finite. Minds eye, who is a person among you? Not one walks upright to the river where he lies to die.
