#???posts

Pst

Pst

Canni

Canni can you hear me

Canni

..

Can we watch project hail Mary question?

I miss all dressed and sour cream and onion chips..

A formless, ameba exists, floating in a mushy sea of sight and sound and sensory peace and overwhelmingness. A painless undefindeity coursing through the pulsating nerves of web binding locking us to our souls. An anthill of reflective pathways whispering secrets of the future through the thin lips of streams. An axis of time melted into the normality of consciousness. Life and death blended into a thin gray glimmer lining the flowing clouds through the sky. An ignorant apathy from the one who holds us all within her hands, our blood coating his fingertips.

A tearing of life and flesh, the breaking of laws and the refinement of revolutionaries. The crashing of emotions and pain. The redefine of a dream from one’s perspective that was never meant to be mortal into something so cruelly defined by it. The melting of never before existent flesh into a box coated and built from it, stretched to fit like a mold for leather to build the hat of humanity. Blood thinned down into a watercolor of paint, bringing life and color to dying, pale, necrotic limbs. Air pumping through fiery, freshly built pipes, made of the red hot burning ash of the destruction of who you once were and who you’ll never fully remember being again. Wind cooling the fiery passions of life and joy into a uniformity as assimilation became identity. The holy light of humanity reigniting your soul burning with the weight of what you will never get to be again. 

The gnawing pain of loss mocked the maggots of corpses with its effortless intensity. The pure knowledge of every single drop of blood flowing through cenotaph of identity seeing all of the internal organs as they melted and mushed against each other, forming a false self. A rapid breath, forming cold fog, each drop of water invading their vessel like a small missile, shooting pain and remembrance for what they used to be into an undefined version of self that their body can never contain nor articulate. The undulating ebb of grief flowed more evenly then blood through the hollow mass of flesh they personified. 

A body built of chemicals and proteins gave way to emotions of a colorful complexity through their blending and blurring. Identity bloomed from the wilting roots that once held the world together. The painful ache of humanity settled into the background noise of a fixated moment of time. The nightmares of the normality of life burrowed their way into the hibernation of death. A twisted marionette puppeteer by the echoes of a nymph and the fading petals of a narcissist flower flowing along the glowing steps of the puddles that once reflected their true identity. 

A human born from all that juxtapose humanity. A fixed overlapping pain born from the ripples of a caged mind. The looping nightmare suddenly settled by the trespasser hand of the one that no longer walks besides us. Ghostly and entrancing as it weaved its way through the careful knot work of neurons. The work of steady hands that faintly carry the memory of human touch, cut the strings of longing and memory, lifting up the threats away from the bleeding loss. Hands that worked with a pure love that faded as it lost its capacity to feel. 

A tragedy of the selfishness of man born one who was never meant to be a man and another will never get to be one again. Hands balanced down a mirror, reflecting two souls blocked from intertwining as their hands fell deeper into the ripples of water, obscuring each meeting and fading their memory of the other. And even as the memory of their transition faded away through the others touch a calm serenity remained in the keeping maw of all the pain that had been stolen.

A whisper of a name meant to be lost. The countdown till the anniversary resumed.