I just found these pages.
I am fired up to re-read all the nonsensical gibberish.
Languages withered by local traditions.
A system of wisdom refined by coallisions.
Who the fuknose.
It seems I should start from the beginning.
There were colors.
Eager senses swirling in delight.
In the dance. IN the dance.
Unknown to the troubled.
Dreaming in sequence with reason discovered.
Included are moments of self-realization.
Amidst the vacation, precipitation.
Rainfall. Brains are soaked with awareness thats fatal.
A knowledge of evil, OUR destructive nature.
The circle begins, confusion sets in.
Alive with feelings colliding within.
A sign we are finding dying. Breathing it in.
Until the color returns.
Love in her eyes.
Flowers tucked in curls.
Even when she cries.
Her tears shine like pearls.
Colliding spirits ride together.
Every week is the loving season.
It seems my breathing bleeds with reason.
Maybe we can braid our brains before it fades.
Expect the unexpected and just love and live affected.
Circular hypnosis eye to eye remaining focused.
What is real? The nonsense sharing minds and streaming conscious.
Only certainty is the ride.
Built to love and than we die.
The brain escapes when the eyelids descend. Or at least it tries. The journey will never be fully divided from everyday happenings. Action reaction. Daily hands sculpt the twisted mess that pull our dream strings. Sometimes faces are familiar. Perhaps their faces have evolved. Often times their structure is completely foreign to the eyes of our past. Destinations can wander between simple and complex. Can leap from evening to day break, hillside to desert, known to nonsense. At times we are no place at all. Sometimes our wide-eyed footsteps pop back in to sleep moves, sometimes those very moves are a defining eye prefix.
The wind dips and dives as the light slowly eases into hiding. Quiet rustles accent sunsplash skylines with a twist of reason and a turn of indecent influence. A tidal wave breaking against the inner panels, threatening a streamline takeover. A deep touch of passion that snakes through the system, ending with a gentle curl of the upper lip.
Thrive on wonder.
Thrive on journey.
A jossled jalopy doesn’t purr its a moan. Every street is uneven on the way to a dead end. Threads of hawaiian with insults to the head. A sleepy eyed stumble with noggin pain to match. A catch of a sniffle a cough and a tickle. Physical soreness and mental confusion. Short arming dreams and bleeding delusions. A sleep so unsettled with nightmare inclusion. But still through the rain glides the hand of affection, providing the mind with the lovestruck injection.
Maybe insane maybe enlightened.
Maybe in love maybe frightened.
Maybe just reaching.
Maybe never finding.
Maybe just preaching.
Maybe a source of inspiration.
Maybe lost communication.
Maybe delusional riding nonsense I compile.
But maybe. Just maybe. I can leave the world some smiles.
In a time of searching schemes to love you when I leave.
Absorbed by times elationistic carving of my dreams.
Captured captivation and imagination wine.
Dancing transcendental vision while I still have time.
Impact the world in a minute with a sentence.
Maybe perhaps for now simply endless.
Strange how a piece of art can influence.
Losing your mind can be creative if you choose it.
Induced by love. Hate and revelation.
Chasing freedom flowers. Finding my displacement.
Racing lifes arrangement. Laced lost and faceless.
Embracing todays sun. Tomorrows may evade me.
Fade away raising stakes a chasers fate creating faith.
Running fearful nowhere place undone unclear awake unsafe.
Insanely arranged and begging to stay forevers attained through all we create.
Spirit of the lingo.
Gears that lack and counteract abstract with thoughts of flight.
Where do my wings go?