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I watch from my window as the paint peels from the fence, never knowing what to do until I sit at my spot and begin to try and explain what I see. I suppose the cause of my misery is the inability to fully give up the material world. I think these materials and the expansion of my mortal world are necessary, but it is discouraging that I dance upon the sullen realization that all these things are very expensive.

These are my opinions and nothing more. Somewhere I can belong with the people who watch with their minds. Somewhere I belong with the people who watch my mind from afar. They calmly state that these potential realities are not normal and should be kept under wraps, that they are taking over my life and I need drugs, not guidance through these storms. I have made mistakes and found myself knee deep in the rose filled world, where my life is much more grand and final than it really is. But I suppose that it was going to happen as my mind is a part of this arrow, and it is still possible that somewhere I am able to be that person. I would like to work for the higher spirits, but without human intervention. I would like to get mail from a mouse and do God’s missions.

To live inside this home, with all it’s wills and peaceable energy – it is right for me, no matter what they say. There is a peace of the sky here, a place for the resources to come to, made of water and shining light. These are the shapes that come with my home. I can belong to the shape that keeps me here. I suppose it’s a light that only some understand, and that is something that I would like to discuss further – this pixilated view that I have come to see the world with, the inter-dimensional bleeding that I see and fall ill from.

Can I believe in the faith of all humanity while trying to be scared by ghosts? Should I ignore these phantoms and move towards the higher light that I can see but cannot yet transcend to? I suppose there is always something higher for me to find. Every step to the top of those metaphoric stairs brings me another trial and also some great joy about the loving feeling that I needed – something I sought for years and only recently found.

There is always a step higher. There is always something that you have to gain, no matter what your ideals and goals. Because my goals are for the treasures of enlightenment and spiritual grace, these are the steps I walk up. It is not to say that it is better than the steps of capitalism, always making more and more money, taking risks and gaining fortune – these are steps that some take and they reach their goals. Money and great fortune is more of a side project for me. It’s good that I admit that to myself now, instead of feeling the pressures of society to gain wealth and buy new cars.

Trials of the farce of this farce we call life, they say. It is just - the way there is a hopeful dream. Wandering with the lifestyles we became the longing way. I have helpful shadows called their old world white owl strangled fate and as such I light the arrow shining on from reasoned selves and as such I become the night that starves and teaches and writes itself. A reasoned cat resolved to be a highlight of the space. Staves and bridesmaids reigns decide the fashionable western eyes that watch us.

I have no mind for it. It is always the place I must start. Maybe that makes me self-centered, and perhaps these dreams are fashionable, too. I belong to these old shining beliefs that watch the dream – these are things that watch me. I have to wander from here, worried about their watching eyes and thoughts prepare me for wondrous things. Because of Lay’s Chips ad nauseum and highlights from your archetypal stereo, I belong to the new world, that one of advertisements and moving pictures.

Somewhere I believe this to be true. Cowards are going to kill me, starving with their higher lives. Believe that these parts of wishing wells are thoughtful and much will come to you. That is all that is left and still believable. I have wondered allowed and weights that bring my highlights and their foreign drip that has to be, a hope that watches and becomes the lighter edge of wanderlust. I have nothing for them.

I believe in the corpse. I believe in the higher sort of taught nonsense that lacks the lively offering and shapes the mindful thoughts of shining selves that call themselves a written web of highlights that we can all belong to. This web is a magnificent beast. It is the new age of enlightenment. I hope I can stay. There is nothing better than still being able to walk to a magic store, and restore your files on a tablet.

Don’t watch these idle coverings. Let the feed interrupt your natural destruction. Allow the waves to move through you. Be one with this generation. Allow yourself to believe with the weaves and streets that you have to walk down. Become what you are allowed to be. Watch while we sleep, but not for your whole life. Believe in the spots that mark your situation and hope that one of us has the answer.

It is hard to describe the need for these vital cases. There is no need to be fearful of the visions that are piped into the light. Heaving beasts and all sorts of thoughts that wander with the lighter files that watch with sated breathes that watch when I have the leaders and the lighters of the gracious tones we have the little bragging dates that wonder with the gracious tones. Weave through their harmony and we will shine.

Right there is the solution to this little qualm. I watch with the better self, that kind of lustful dream that interprets the shine. I have the right note and wander with the final breath and stream into this cause with the better highlights that watch them weave, breathe and weigh the issues for all that they are worth. Better than these highlight I gravely come across the weapons of my mind.

Great minds bring their harmful shapes to the light. Others choose not to, but that is the essence of a discovery. There is a hope that comes across the litter that washes up on the shores of Japan with the letters belonging to my friends. Do not let it fade away. Allow the thoughts to arrive in an untimely notion, within that fuzz that washes the earth every day we are alive. These are the gracious tomes.

Friends that need their shining high, and all the thoughts that need to breathe and I have these helter-skelter minds that watch and find us to bring their line. I have a pipe, but I should not smoke it. I am worried about the resource that lights the eye. I have these to remain true. I have these that watch the eye. Belong to them, and you have the righteous sort of cruelty that treats kids so very nicely. You have to belong with the even weight they are sitting on. I cannot bring the light arrow, yet I must.

There is a hope yet to bring to the day – something, somewhere that rests. It makes me not want to be a shard of glass. I want to belong with the sirens and wandering minds in the morning with a righteous thought and important mind. Fiends like that wake and know that only some of the writers can cause such a dream. I belong to the fearful.

They can never find me, yet here I lay in the box where they left me. Once they become like-minded, they are filled are the righteous looks that bring France towards me. Grand ideals made for weight, and all the little raids that bring with over-whelming weight. You cannot bring the little wine thoughts brought towards the burning wall. I can believe this is watching for the silence of night. It will enter my mind at this point.

There is nothing of note made out of these shapes. These are simple thoughts that watch with the righteous line. The walls wait for the beliefs and they come with the light. We have reasons to share this with them. We have nothing made out of these people. I have to believe that he comes with me. Sheep and other solved answers, white sheets handing the devil his sympathy. We have heavy blankets to thank for that.

Still there is no question, nor an answer and I must wait for the change of seasons to write the fearful notes that beckon me from some space in the future. We wait for this change in my mentality. I don’t want to be angry, but someone enters me, a soul who is angry, and I feint – I am no longer in this reality. It comes from deep longing and songs that watch the final chapter take their weight and occur with these little thoughts that need to fade. I watch this occur. There is no question in my mind these are false decisions. I must thank the good that drags me out. The righteous actions keep me from falling ill from these directions every night. It is important to thank the creation, and there is where it lies. We have no answers, because we do not ask questions. We do not ask questions because we are content. I hope these expanded thoughts result it my fate coming to light. I hope that someone helps you see your fate as well.

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