007:01:09
flood gates open. confusion gives way to clarity. things fall into place. like so many times before. it all makes sense. it all has a purpose. till when the confusion comes once again. foreign memories staining your good mood. coffee on your new white shirt.
chasing the value of pieces of paper based upon the the quantity of shiny rocks. based upon power. based upon dictation. all for our own piece of happiness. playing their game so badly. my poker face ain't so good. fighting for our own dreams. wanting it all.
everything linked together in some way down to the nanoscopic world. we are all connected. we are all disconnected.
of coming together. from the backwaters of the unknown to solid permanence of love. finding our way lost by ourselves. thrown out. finding that trail of breadcrumbs left on the trail of our mind. clearly finding the path to where we want to call home, somewhere we can both call home. our existence soldering together.
of one soul that has found its twin.
we've all been sucked into buying into the machine in some way or another. we are all in its power. there is no use in denying that. there is no use pretending that you are different. time has made it that none of that matters anymore. everyone is becoming the same. same. same same. same. same. like a bad Warhol print.
could it be the revolution of the 60's and 70's meant nothing? just fuel for the propaganda of today.
there was no revolution.
only distraction.
embrace religion as a quick fix. joining a cause to make things seem better.
everyone has their delusions
006:12:08 [ balance.]
the depression hits so suddenly. like crossing train tracks with no idea the train is right there. smashing into the side of you. days of being even . stable. happy. all becomes a foreign memory. like a memory from an old tv show. replacing it as mine. and so we wait. wait for the balance to return. fire brews and rage swells behind my eyes. confusion makes it so hard to concentrate. in the distance hands bound mouth taped shut. observing a life i am simply waiting to join. waiting to feel those warm days again. waiting for the depression to shift back to mania.
i believe there is more to this life than all we see. to what we are told whatever we may believe or are capable of believing. not sure if there is anything, really, that could be out there that can help other than ourselves. answers are within ourselves to find. conclusions can be simple once youve seen them. there are signs , images, that we see, images that possible mean nothing to anyone but ourselves. images so random but triggering answers for everything. like something was placed in front of you on purpose.
no belief in coincidence.
a hard skull and soft dry wall make a perfect combination. no shamans to guide us through the mystics. approach and find your place all your own. then in the positive light refrain. speak only the positive. even if it kills you.
hypocrite.
days of everything seeming so fake. people lookin like people seen so many times before. there all robots. there all actors. extras. the budget to this film must be getting lower. they are recylcling them. people that mean nothing. and as these people look at you do they feel the same. you are nothing to them. [rooted] these days break up into days of high energy. determination. so relieved when the clouds break.
look at these fake brick walls.
this isn't a lodge at all. a mirage in a sea of stucco.
they all hear some coded message. encrypted by nature, by life itself.
look up.
005:11:08 [ .dreams and the like. ]
Typical dream scape's - barren landscape. everything covered in a mist or like a shadow. seeing the world as if it being filmed through a soft lens. . . or my contact lenses are dirty and dry. observing myself outside myself. watching a t.v. show with me in it.
dream one (first dream worth remembering in summer of 2007 )
Watching myself, observing myself as if i was the reflection in the mirror. watching as my mouth opens and my jaw drops, my entire face contorting as my jaw hangs low. teeth falling out. more teeth than should be in a mouth. i am vomiting teeth.
wake.
dream two ( fall 2008 )
watching myself watch myself in a mirror. flipping back and forth from this perspective, to my own perspective of looking into the mirror ( not actually sure if it was a typical mirror or not ) i have jeans on, with no shirt. there is a large gauze bandage wrapped around my lower abdomen and waist. the bandage and my jeans are soaked in blood. my head and bottom part of legs are both in reflection and myself standing there faded out. main focus on bandage. in the mirror i am opening a section of the bandage to expose a large wound in my lower abdomen. it is quite large, circular, seemingly clean cut. no organs or guts can be seen in the hole. it is hollow. with slight blood dripping on the inside. with my hand that is holding the bandage, i extend my forefinger and stick it inside. the meat inside the hole is cold and really has no feeling...amazed by this, i continue to pick at it.
wake.
recurring dream(s)
searching for pain medicine. usually where i am searching there is a plethora of other drugs available just sitting around, but i am searching for only one kind. a bottle of methadone wafers. as i search i'll use the other drugs and become upset and annoyed that they do not work. there are other people i'll randomly come across (they have no faces or if they do it zooms into their eyes )and i'll watch them using and i can "feel" them getting high. some of them i can ''feel'' them overdosing. eventually i will find a bottle of what i seek buried under something or hidden in a drawer. when i find the bottle there will be only one or two wafers inside. there is always difficulties getting them out of the bottle and once i do get one out it becomes ten times it's size and renders it unusable. ill sit and watch it growing deciding if i should break smaller pieces off to swallow.
wake.
004:11:08 [ .explosion. ]
idle explosion.
neurotic station. simple plan. simple solution. simple execution.
visuals of transcendence. awakening and realizations of ones own ' shadow conscious '. a mix of dull muted colors with vivid contrasts. a series of wood panels. The afternoons repair Cantonese technology programming vehicle install english medical college filing venture professional college manage educational material Romanian external thorough.
When litigation diner bottom player secure manual mediation finance clothing secure wanted run Albanian weekends .
003:11:08 [ .idle. ]
idle explosion.
the sun has set and tonight we drift. consumed by the organic. those ties that bind will soon dissolve away. washing out the content. and in the morning we will be new again.
it's calm. it's calm. no ripples. no waves. we see our faces reflecting back at us. different every time. we must take flight into the mind rift. into the heavens. transcend into the unknown.
you will know why we are starring.
the sun sets until the morning rises. all the organic has been stripped away. peel off the layers of onion. like a night mare.
kicking and screaming. cold cold sweat. we awake into a transformed light.
a little more awake.
002:10:08 [ the devil. his girlfriend and nonsense. ]
despite absent. going with the flow of consumed and conserved energy. body mass has an amazing build up of shit. get rid of that, man. Herold 97.8.
here they congregate to worship some noise and light stimulant awaiting their reward. through the maze. weave in and out. that special machine has called their name. pheromones the right match. sit and cradle next to it's bosom calmly patiently waiting for a drop of milk from the collective tit.
001:10:08
some kind of toxic vision. some kind of disease within the mind. within the body.organic and corrupt in nature, spreading like cancer to ever cell in existence.
it's tentacles wrapping around everything in sight. grasping your consciousness, taking control.
In a nuclear fallout perhaps we will find our way. population cleansed. society rebooted. mankind's kill switch. reinstall the software. maybe we'll get it right next time around. some world we do not belong to and then there is them, feeding off the tits of vanity and despair.
a cloud like a hand print.
Don't worry.... everything will be O. K.
it is the feverish mind set of becoming consumed by an idea, that idea un spooling into visual pieces, a broken mirror of your broken thoughts. of what's really going on within you. and when it is all unraveled, before you lays your soul, your subconscious starring back and cruelly saying hello. here you finally feel a sense of relief. what seems though the most difficult part is, letting go. letting those ideas unravel. letting your subconscious take control, to allow it to send out it's x-ray emissions, burnishing it's images in the film. that feverish burn in my skull, the ideas have consumed, yet i cannot yet let go. holding all these x-rays in i fear i may explode. in a caravan of broken horse driven mirrors.
at a distance of 94.5 million miles we flutter silently to a stop wonder where it all began? i believe it was a tuesday
yes
a tuesday the sky was worn and tired closed my eyes an fell asleep you can get your microderm for free which is usually seventy five dollars
its where they remove the dead layers of skin off your face and suck....how about friday? stop pushing that knife further into my skull...lemme check one second...that was for another treatment he's out of town right now
carry our dead weight some where we can call home. there are no sails to my boat... but there is no wind, either.
the current takes us along. our lives reflected in broken horse driven mirrors. it is what stares back at you when asleep. the demon on your chest. weighing you down.
stuck in your shell, kicking and screaming, clawing your way out of the sheets.
at what point you have had enough.
delta waves.
Broken Horse Driven Mirrors. the very least of your worries. as the most monumental mole hill ever crossed. the destination of two parts. an extinguished flame trying so hard to re ignite itself.
hey man, turn the music down...it's loud enough out there already.
i've got the fear again.
is there any voice at all? is there anything to say? does any of it even matter? so afraid of the public. A question for nobody. an answer with no voice. no words. no thoughts. terrible when the mind is a blank dull gray field. full of noise. pressure. pressure pressure.
idle explosion.
Don't worry.... everything will be O. K.
have i used up all my continues?
pressure sensitive, watch out for the pigs. you haven't seen their faces yet. let some god figure all this mess out. were just here for a good time, man.
untimely testimonial from this man, his majesty, his majesty pants full of shit.
who'll leave the light on? and who's the one that declared this war in the first place?
we are searching for something i don't believe that we will truly understand the gravity of it. round and round we go with this scavenger hunt. the obvious so hard to let pass on by.
hypnotized by the nonsense.
*9258
does anyone have a true face underneath all these masks?
no belief in coincidence. when do we stop allowing ourselves to be defeated?
surrounded by warmth. matter forms with light. transformed and growing, we understand the frivolous nature of existence. we understand it is a matter of defeat to really become new. at what point do we understand it is O. K.? enclosed in the fallout shelter of this cocoon.
no drugs to erase the world anymore...it's all down to my lonesome.
no words. no language. no understanding of what goes on. we walk and walk in circles starring at each others blank faces. we see our paths tied and bound by our strings.
the puppeteer let them go. who controls us now?
we are done being the backdrop.
when we try to say something. when the meaning is so paramount to be understood, it is always lost in the translation of life. recede back into your mind. allow the tides of your thoughts bring you back. back home. let them pull you away. in a wasted effort we dog paddle, trying to get back to shore. we tread the waters until our muscles can take no more. relax. drift away. farewell.
m
