A Word, Please... It was two widths of a lamb's shank that separated us, clandestine, but surmised, between membranous sheets of silicon. At this moment, I can see her eyes, perpendicular to mine, forming a kaleidoscopic centrifuge of human mirage. From this angle, I cannot look into her eyes, I can focus but on one.
A kneeling young woman is placing river stones methodically into an ash wicker basket. She has a drawn miasma of sadness and effort, stopping every few stones to assess the weight of the basket. Whipping, angry and wild African wuppertails of jet-black hair are annoyingly unbecome from the crease of her chapped lips by a
The Coroner Struck a Match Shall we not just take a moment to talk? To connect distemporally and snatch these repeated instances from the viscous pour of infinity, a sludge haul down a complicated sequence of iron pipes, forged in the lateral veins of our sun. Who does the talking, and who does the listening?
Sometimes a Heading is just a Heading I grope to reclaim all of the insights I've ever had, as if they were lost to me. For the time that be's, evaporation, captured somewhere in heaven's nimbus, a moonbow around the stellar excitement of a novel idea. To imagine the narrative, but never speak or pen.
A Word, Please... And that every day that goes by without a word will end in neglect. Not that there is anything to offer my adoring self, watching hisself negotiate a chilly keyboard across the vibrational invoice sent from the hidden dimensions of void. As if something must come from something and somewhere. It's an
A Word, Please... I believe I have awakened again with the spin of liminal fever shedding sweat into bedsheets—an endless taxonomical investigation of what makes me human, and what comprises consciousness. I couldn't be sure that it was me who believes he has awakened, or the inverse of me, careening in from the future to
A Word, Please... Plenary vibrations, ones that ricket the sole to the soul, immensification of ebullience, all shrugged into one Pine Box, from whence, upon opening, all the knowledge of evil flew. These coins on your eyes cost as much as any stamp—to ferry your words and ideas from continent to continent, from shadow to
What exactly *IS* an anti-zombie, and what does it mean to me?
A guaranteed roadmap to everlasting life, and now, for a limited time only, how to amass all the money in the world!
A glimpse of the Afterlife. The premonition, a precognition of my own First Ascent and Awakening—don't close your eyes!
