Ahh yes, I am still alive.
These moments all too familiar visit where the night is out there letting the surrounding fields of earth's shield eat up meteors and such.
It isn't a welcoming feeling to have insomnia come again in a deep gleam and pushy stride just straight shoving me out of bed. But here it is.
The psyche change in the mass collective under the last decade had turned me into an evasive defeatist of sorts which in which some whim of destroyed civilization and no hope for the Heartful saw a gladness to really just ducking out.
But in conscience and psyche still I needed a way or tactic to have a place for me and as typical I really saw none. Some intense things appeared more like as a galaxy was trying every which way to just make this incarnation as miserable as possible.
It is easy to feel hated then, especially at some mass level.
The idea of reaching for beauty to compose and then having it shot down, oh with customization, there were many things so very hard to walk away from.
You grow to see death, witness separation, to see the lecherous and the lying and pray to wish to see an uprooted soulness of sorts in the proximity of a New York state and get wrung through the ringer of users, killers, cheats, scapes, many sortments of strange reptilians, and baboons swindlers, lockhearts & addicts of the kind of perverted espousal of dream crushing subversive delivery.
Some may have known I said I've seen too much and that is true but I can't bow out of aiming for the petal on the daisy or the Light in the end of the trouble as it were.. tunnel, tunnel, that is. The Light in the end of the treble.
Well I sit here. I'd seen lives change so completely and people gone, lives destroyed, others make hefty careers and such. It's strange to be in this whole race. Where the reward is given out by more beasts of such, and the wish for angels to come, or steady helpers to come as any kind of force or presence beyond nature symbols or relevant animals, composes this idea that within the human I have to ask what had collectively happened to the psyche.
It is going to sound very gay but the inspiration of Love and the idea of a resurging heartfelt idea of affection had been a deep and tuned in driving force as for the will to create.
On all the countless reasons and depths to say why this has changed on a social level and a way of information overload and attention purchase culture, the innocence had been sucked away like an addicted vampire placed its shadows over Earth Terra and the Soul is different, the reason is different, and something very ugly and nefarious occurs on Earth Terra.
I had flagged my S.O.S. regarding this & yet it seems that the deep forces of any kind of help whatsover had become strictly sick of this human project.
The gluttony and greed, the M.E. factions of social appeal had burnt out, stabbed, killed away and chased out would be angels and turned the globe into a kind of orgiastic compound of blood lust and interior projection, creating snapping fuses of people who parade under guises of fine wording and cause but are the firsts to act like rats, killers, manipulators and killers of the sacred heart.
Forests destroyed, friends dispersed disconnected, a father's death, a music distributor's fowl play, and undergoing being cursed by every single living fat girl with dyed hair and a book on television occultism. Manually the collective had killed the concept of God and yet began worshiping themselves before taking mandatory and required steps of working on themselves.
Brew is gurgling on a kitchen counter and the hours pass where I start to hand write letters again like a decade is some slip of a weird collective trip. Manually, slowly, with time and care that is rare to afford. The great 'going somewhere' causes an affectionate curiosity that asks that if all of this is a clay muddling of each and all's collective hallucinations, a dire wish for all to take a slow time and deep breath for their rearrangements of meaning, tool and function would be there for a wondrous rebirth of navigating out of this collective pigstye or primordial hell.
