From which corner edge of Saturns’ ring’s does Galileo masturbate too and shit into glazed beakers shaped like breasts. Can such thoughts have meaning other than possible miss-firings in the central dogma. Why can’t rings of bark for shoes make tired for sea dominance.
A crude torture, that which spooks crow and does not know he is no crow. Rusty musings of whipped cattle are not heard by fucking pixies deep in blue skies eye’s; the bushes and flowers cry out and speak pain as bugs execute semen acid on their faces, planes and vertices.
The formless form has no meaning as formed by the formless form from which it had no meaning giving formless forms no informed form. Axial axis’ seep into intelligent mountain peeks to read their children round books made of copper turnips.
I’m driven mad by these thoughts end beguiled tympanites that clammer about in my head. What is it that causes such cerebral discomfort? These constants that seethe as amoeba seethe upon tea seas and dead bees. What is the algae smoke that can heal this ant-under-shoe catastrophe that awaits paper of mired silks.
Why do wooden men with cog-heads seek divinity from tree spirits, whom exist in the infinite Millenia forests. How is it that these forms happen upon my mind, enter the blood stream and become shit for words in these these scribblings. The sounds of planes do not cause squirrels to become entranced about tiny tree frogs mating in unison upon the five noses of the demon Moses, whilst this Moses procures the sacrament in the last whore of the nights lanky womb. Plumbers do not create showers for with artists to ruminate upon in, no, for the artist need only further his fervor with white capped mushrooms and sleepless nights drowning in aftershocks from stupid dreams.
Whilst the words i attempt to use, to shape and contort the mania that spurs from my vessel, i stagger when attempting a truce with the infinite fish that controls the universe. I may have fished this fish and added him to my thralls, but my dominance over it is no where near complete. I fear the fish will dominate me and possibly consume me entirely, disallowing me to escape from an infernal cage of absolute non-being. This passive-aggressive battle renders me as the specimen from which greater masters tinker upon: my skull opened, brain exposed, with needles prodding the ridges of my consciousness, forcing about emotions from the lowest to highest spectrum of the gradient. Some periods of time with this fish manifesting itself within me are taught with great wonder and joy, others a daze, a hazing haze that befits a maze i must graze for days.
Naughty sphinx percolate through red barons fecal matter, diving through eons of snuff and gruff, radiating their song during the journey until reaching the peak of peaks.
The point prior to this is a prime example. From which denizen of the cosmos does such protruding imagery emasculate itself from non-being to these fingers. I weaken my spleen as i thrust my self canonically into wiser passages that only threaten my sanity as a conscious form.
Whilst i am anathema to my conditions that display themselves in random ramblings, the white paint that strikes onlookers is the idea that i am connected to something greater than myself and the reality that bends around me and which i bend it.
These pathogens that my mind excretes on a daily basis happen to lead me unto great vista’s that shock and destroy many emotions, but at the same time they touch upon a deep recess of beauty that is not visible else where in my current realm. I seek seekers whom see what i see, but they are few and far in between and the snippets from history give them little justice; these seekers are found in a state of after-thought, which, is enough to subdue the new seekers mind and imparts a reliquary of knowledge and being into their inner sanctum. Have i been touched by this gangrenous essence and been imparted the knowledge of the un-being and impossible speaking speakers speech? Any other reasoning has less weight than the souls of atoms quarks Higgs bosons: The string quartets that pluck existence into being have tunes their instruments inline with my structure, in order for their song to be heard and directed by me and me alone. I am their guide and their song writer, their maker and destroyer.