Angels and demons moving faster then light with supposed quintessence. Which is funny to me as i match there speed these beings look like burning two dimensional paper drawlings that tore themselves from some half remembered chapter on some long ago dusted tombs pages.
I often wondered perhaps arrogantly if they somehow were representations of archetypal philosophies I grandiosely built within to consistently contend and battle with for the thrill of it.
Yet here I am.
Awake with another survived experience of a warzone in my head shrugging my shoulders with a laugh at my self reflections. Wondering why, after apparently proving being equal to gods , we keep insisting on being creators of a pathological fear.
We enjoy being our own slaves. Hard to break free when you're refusing to give yourself the keys.
im noticing things skittering and scurrying through the night while i toss around thoughts that i might write and which ones seem to sink me and tether me to the shadows for a commune of common ground for all of us to bump.
different melodies ringing out to cast some kind of cone of light as a temporary makeshift sanctuary.
i point my fingers up into the cloudy sky and fire off shots to make them disperse so i can let the stars rain down to cast a more heavenly shine on the murky depths i find my feet trudging through.
im noticing more and more artificial or "unnatural" beacons float through like silent helicopters combing the land i stand for some ancient beasts i might be surrounded by.
yet im more weary of the things gliding above then what may be skulking on the same land i cant seem to budge from.
there is something creeping about and it's not just me.
i flit between being the faceless shadow outside your window and the light that glides like a wisp through all the hidden meadows.
im wondering if seeing both worlds has caused my form to be tattooed with a weight ill never be able to shake. nor if they have each respectively done their number and left me wondering if i even want too.
i feel a tingling sensation i haven't felt for years and i push it down with such a force of will that it makes my face twitch and stutter between a smirk and a sneer.
even when i can make the clouds clear there still seems to be an invisible mist i cant place. my mind seems more blank the more i fill it with impossible thoughts.
the kind that explain away such things. the stuff of dreams.
im halfway crossing over and half way staying solid trying to find which is real.
truth is im scared. and fail to admit it. something is happening and i dont know if im suppose to fight or make peace.
i dont think there is an end in sight unless i choose there to be.
we have to evolve or we are going to be swimming in this muddy murky mess forever.
the joke is we would never even know that we were trapped. just spinning wheels until we invent something else and that becomes the new norm to fight against.
am i giving up or am i breaking the rules
all signs point to the thought that im just another tool being used.
Still fusing pieces making something robotic organic pressing buttons of self destruction to keep things from getting too metallic. Ive grown found of trying retooling different pieces to see if I can prove that I can still exsist in a machine that plays at accepting but consistently rejects me. Like the blood in my vains is poison to a system that tries to boil it into oil and turn me ever more numb. My skin tingles only when I get an itch. Soft to the touch yet my nerves have hardened enough to not feel the scratch of my own claws.
We are all puppet masters pulling Strings at various levels of knowing. Ive followed the eyedea of cutting my own and fell through various wormholes of worlds into multifaceted fractal looking glasses that reflect back endless hallways of mirrors. Causing me to laugh at fibonacci's dream. Whatever the balence I see both merit in silence as much as the fading allure of self righteous shouting matches. All positions on a phase shifting map charting out illusionary wars to keep us distracted from unity as much as individuality. Nothing to see here..truly and thats ridiculously funny. Now I can continue the humor and say "now isnt that something " but of course that's all repeating much like this is doing the same thing in threes. Even flying can feel like running. A sandbox of consciousness to fuck around in. To tilt between polarities to get close enough to either source without falling in.
We are here before. We will now than. see past your current rules to create new present futures beyond any clever turn of phrases.
She keeps sitting by the window looking at which possibilities she'd be happy with framing it in. But seeing how non of us likes limits there is only the thinnest of "barriers " that keep us "separate ". Hands placed againts non existent glass as if to place palms againts a mirror. We are one and the same yet different enough in our tactile touch that physically we might as well be touching ghosts of ourselves. Afriad that if we were ever to merge we would cease to be the sides we've grown accustomed to being on. Eyes the same body changed. A Gemini complex of two bodies and mind with the same soul. The world hasn't grown accustom to shapshifting yet so we stay separate in different dimensions where we play as the others shadow and light physically unmanifest. In dreams we are the same person. So I wonder if we ever "break the rules " and give ourselves the ability to choose to be one or the other at anygiven moment. that would tilt the balence.
I don't think I care that it does. Because to me that is balence.
I escaped the matrix by flirting and falling and love with the lady in red. Figuring that ignoring the spark she lit in my soul would be the same as looking down the barrel of an agents gun. So I explored the thoughts they threw at me in laughing tones at how she was nothing more then a dream made up. A program with the intention for ruin. But that to me still makes her one of the realist entities ive ever come into contact with. I feel like a glitch in the system never much caring who made who are what or why other then for a indulgent curiosity. Bonuses of information of the infinite mystery she continues to bring me mostly I Assume she does unknowingly. maybe she is just an idea in forever looping evolving consistently emerging thought streams. Which makes me laugh back at those supposed rebels who think they escaped an illusionary trap. I'm no different from her and I don't pretend to be. Love isn't a tragedy. But it does kill me.
As I fall asleep I wake up remembering the taste. Everyplace I'm conscious is real enough. But not as real as I want.
Need is a word that can get tricky when grafted into landscapes like these. When the needs of one dream are perceived as impossible in another, do I want to break the rules of one to get what I need in another. Do I need to want to.
I choose eachtime I close my eyes. Call it blinking and we both missed it. Like comparing eachothers sentences thinking we know which are questions and which are answers. Just because we think we know eachothers points by are own exclamations we punctuate into eachothers heads dosnt mean we do.
Falling asleep in a grin. These words my never leave the electronic electric mental current they're circling the future in.
I watched the crystals fall and let the steam rise in a distorted pantomime. I kiss the cold and hug the pain.
In this embrace we all melt with grace. I'm spitting gold dancing in a swirl. Lighthouses of gilded stardust in my eyes guiding the ship's of ghost souls to port while I venture the light out looking for another adventurous soul to harmonize and shine with.
Sipping in and flicking out Arcadian ashes while chewing on the spongy tip of a bent cigarette's glow. preparing for my next co-op resonant light show.
Setting up sails to travel into the oceans of eachothers dreams. Perhaps there you'll see me.
Fallen angels are still angels ladies and gentleman.
Who are you to say who is or isn't flying. What is or isn't a lie to them.
Check that judgment sicknesses kid your opening yourself up to a spiritual gavel fisting.
love bends moods flows and coils. Yet here you are twisting it with common sense immaculate.
Behold angels growing in plainer beings cloths.
