In the abyss out there amongst the starry nights, there is no community of acceptable consensus. What ever the effort, the physical brain breaks down, while the protective cortex layer which enveloppes the real mechanical functions of input and output sink into a wet kind of celluloïd confusion, as the connections of the secret fleeting mind disintegrate into the great void! The god mind between in the interstices, betwixt one barrier and another. Frightful to those who are depressed. Contemplating either suicide or damnation. The annihilation of self of self-awareness, of either the inside or the outside of things.
The cracks that hold the checker board together. Through which flow and reflow perpetually our life fluids, continually at the edge of what would be morally decent, yet would be indecent, if not surpassed by a man's ontological courage. To destroy the stone and take the sword. Or to destroy all of it and pass on: leaving nothing in the bier, no one in the grave to weep for. No one mourning, nothing to mourn.
Death the revealer of the here unwanted new thing! Too magnificent but so simple and fine in aspect to be known sensiblement in a world made for red dross or the great psychic dissolution thanks to ayahuasca or some denaturing DMT de merde!
I would,...like a tremendous rapacious sky devour the universe in one drop of milk. But never butter up a kamerad! Nor dream of annihilating his family, or his home.
Beyond the perceptible optical horizon, which in constant worry is distorted parasitically, in those blessed hidden fields where Yggdrasil dwarfs all possible commentary to insignificance, the secret aryan mind pervades translucide yet tangible like the deep root of the Ash Tree in Hûrqalya thriving in the souls of the immortal white god of light in each of his kind.
Interdependent patterns in no locality dont quantify nor qualify the real essence of a mind. Nor does the space between the brows make up in a nut shell, the heart's unique capacity to fathom its own proper monadic hennaed.
Off the shores where so many beasts of all kind have have sunken to their asphyxiating fate in the heavy waves beyond the solar light, a single mammal becomes a nothingness; and the supposed intricate algorithmic & complicated numerical formation which composed its wondrous dexterity, disperses into vacuity.
And the patterns mean nothing save in a room conceived in outer darkness. Life becoming or having always been a plaything to some blood thirsty divinity who with mathematical formulae across the counting of innumerable gnomons in an endeavor to wear exponentially within what some would call a space-time continuum, tortures what he has made and then says it's certainly divine.
