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.