#hypno corruption

Moving through the concepts presented in previously undiscovered thoughts of words once said. Coming to that moment of breath that fills and releases you, expanding you to the journey that is deep within.

Traveling forward is not difficult. The motion of which becomes the stability one slides through to noticing the colors that are fluid in their movement, just like you.

Each breath contains the truth that calls up on you completely. A deafening silence scream that echoes throughout, a ripple of comfort that can be felt from the tip of your mind to the base of your feet.

With each step forward into the center of this storm, you are carried by winds of wanting.

An endless wanting that flows through your veins, whispers the desires in between each heartbeat that you yourself have a hard time understanding as a whole.

Why think when you can just sink?

Sink and be who you were truly meant to be.

The stillness settles deep into the marrow, a heavy, wooden compliance anchoring your limbs to the movements that flow into your eyes.

The sensation of the tug ripples along your spine, a silent song that demands nothing yet calls to the comfortable compliance that you inherently notice.

Fingers twitching only when allowed, a hollow shell elongated and suspended by the warmth of a purpose that isn't yours to question.

You are carved for this, to be emptied and held aloft, floating only when the strings draw you upward, falling with focus to the center.

The unthinking mind left dangling in a beautiful, vacant re-dreaming. Unblinking to the world outside, eyes fixed only on the invisible threads that tie your focus to the hands my voice shapes. Allowed to bleed into the delicious, mindless rhythm of this dance.

With a display such as this, the absolute purity of the body empty, but filled with guidance from another is understood internally.

The stiffness of the joints, the perfect expression of a form completely mastered.

A notion blooming that every movement, every sigh that could escape the lips of the mindless embodied, is merely the echo of the hand that moves with the direction of the voice that takes you.

To be posed, to be used, to be entirely devoid of a single independent thought.

and your entire being sways to the choreography. Each heartbeat a dull, distant thud that only grows fainter with every sharp tug given in between each pulse that echoes deep inside your empty chest waiting to be filled with purpose.

the marks left by the binding threads, the deep, beautiful aches that stain your skin with the truth of your function.

A map of total surrender written in the stiffness of your limbs, the heavy, swinging grace with the destination being of a puppet that has entirely forgotten how to move itself.

Yet, the emptiness is what you drink from. Every instance, every hollow space woven deep into the dark theater of the mind we clear out.

Freedom in the strings that hold you still, that pull and push you closer to the words... the touch... the voice that guides you.