Existential Exit Wounds

From some black end shore I loved yew, and that love was true in the depths of many untrue truths. From tree to see, to seems, seams and dreams. I loved through though it may not be said the same of me. Not from dependency or necessity. A wanton wanting thing in a dream to dream of wanting you. The shape of the soul, the stain of the cold, and the lie in a truth. I loved you, though not everyone. And as always, true love stings. Not an idea or ideal, but real.

When I was a child I sat by a tree and had unwittingly stuck my hand into an ant hill. Those ants didn’t waste time getting to work on me. I couldn’t move that hand for a week and a half. Later in childhood a similar event occurred except it resulted in bites all over my body. When I was seven I saw an army of orange ants holocausting a nest of black ants. The black ants were defenseless. They (the orange ants) (could)n’t even (stop) them(selves) if they wanted to. I decapitated 300 of those orange ants, eventually I realized that not even I could stop them. I love animals, and I find ants fascinating, thousands of years had turned the orange ones into this aimless thing; I felt bad for them. Life is a situation and if this event had been observed removed from context, I often wonder what someone might think of me having just seen that.

I AM TTELLING YOU TO GET AWAY FROM ME WHILE I TRY AND RETRIEVE SOME SOMEONE FROM SPACE TIME. YOU SAW ME WORKING ON SOMETHING, YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT I AM TRYING TO DO.

You don't want to hang from my black tree. Trust me. You'll need a slack for that, and that won't be fair to you. You're better off in the sky where it's safe. The most my branches do is reach for the sky. Two oceans beneath me and my mind tried to turn someone into Helen of Troy. That's how unfair I am.

Don't give into wanton despair, it turns you into a cruelty instead of a person or the person you want to be.

People worry about God. It means different things to different people. If there were a true God , they would blend in until people found the hidden wings in themselves, the better angels of their being; to know the strength need to hold love up. And if there is no God, hope that we find the strength in ourselves to hold a Heaven up and not a Hell, so that we may better protect each other and understand the depth of goodness must understand the depth of despair.

My web history is filled with severely disappointing and misleading results if someone is ever bored enough to want to browse the embarrassing depths browser histories.

I mean:

"Watch these hot balls cut through water like a knife through butter"

But in actuality: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R9mn2vZ9d5U

https://youtu.be/8IfTwS7dGz0?si=qwcFTjUFGdtPJcMf If you do, you should reconsider. Stop it at the 59 second mark. There is a number, that is not how things should work. Listen to the words and understand where the video was set to stop.

22 A swan protects its children with all the ferocity of God's rage. (That thing is hurting you, not me.) I treat you like lost children and I am only just young. (Sometimes a Swan's aim is aimless.)

People attempt to cling to some sense of greatness, being more right, feeling powerful. When I hear stillness, the sound where the beach meets the ocean, the quiet moments between everything. The shyness or anxiousness in someone else or in me, (the beauty and strength in vulnerability) that’s where I see power. And in the overcoming o(r|f) falling down, that’s honesty. Persons shouldn't fall forever.

God’s name is a four letter word. I (love) people. I (hate) what hurts them. Whether I believe in that sort of thing? It depends on what you mean. All these words mean different things to different people. If you asked me how I feel about the Bible, I don’t care for lies. Some things are written on the heart.

Everyone is told they need other people. (That wanting is the worst thing.) And they’re taught to jump on a cross or into a box in the ground. I don’t dig it. But if people are between me, helping the people I love, and where I want to be; I’ll dig some holes and plant some seeds.

It’s difficult to see people through fun house mirrors, the love behind their eyes – past false surfaces. There’s hate there too, reserved for the slings and arrows of misuse, but none for the muses.

All these weird Porn "Stars" are going to create a super plague capable of wiping out the human race. I can cure this but it becomes uncurable if you keep having idiot sex.

ATR

Pastern: