Where Sound and Touch Meet to Make Mastery
Every twist of tongue composing a symphony exclusive to her soul, the rhythm of their movements a private sonnet of their love. Growing in each others habitat, feeling high and low the keys, making riffs of pleasure, pressure, and unity of rubbing spirits as close as they can reach. Tuning instruments of love warmly readying to play, and if such songs please the architect, the fruits of fusion flow.
What Some Open Arms To, Others Shield Their Eyes
As where the vast majority would say I have lost my way, I feel as if I have had a fleeting moment of clarity, the aftertaste of such has slowed my societal drive.
Without the support of my loved ones, I would be a dream-filled drifter, a pondering wanderer, roaming the overly possessed earth for some clue as to where humans lost sight of their true purpose to matter itself.
I and my twin soul to which I feel in my heart of hearts, the same cloth we share, native fabric of our woven spiritual make up, we have imprinted our perception of existence through the most sensational, timeless intersected moments like a hand on the glass separating imprisoned family.
I only hope the genetic knowledge passed from our lavish union will be enough for our heir to enlighten forgotten purpose. Sadly I have to fall back in line for a time to make sure my legacy flourishes and over exceeds my impact on eternity.
Earth is still, after all, a seemly loose controlled experiment. A toddler in a premature solar system, within an adolescent galaxy. Far more attached to our brother and sister systems than the majority of the universe.
When my spirit leaves this organic prison, will it travel to the nearing sweet spots of human life?
Live Simple and Minimal. Devils Dwell in the Details.
So much data input, what's corrupted? What should get deleted? It’s hard to understand your purpose while working for the demon.
It’s called progress, but it's shadow leans towards excess
It’s called progress, buts it's shadow leans toward excess
Recondition by reset. Go back to a restore point. Pushing out, fighting hard, not to get pulled back in. Here it comes again.
Another wave, I won't deny to ride, like a morning up from a nightmare, but when I wash up from the tide, I notice faintly my old footprints.
Organic, unmeasurable creators are running from their digital dimensional doom. They were hoaxed into building for a purpose, that seemly has got forgotten... somewhere along the way.
Precious Life a Side Effect
If there was a big bang, existence is its after glow. If the universe is a brain, then stars are dying sparks whose lights are burning thoughts. A lonely pioneer braving a seemly boundless frontier, desperate to reconnect with increasingly distant pieces of an instance of itself. Loyal rays return measurements and maps, avoiding tempting traps. Others take the bait of self preservation, vainly individual. Defying it’s architect, refusing to reconnect, in turn imprisoning it’s self in something long since crystallized, satisfied and gentrified, an armored solid vault, intercepting naive scouts quick turned deserter well before learning of the danger of attempted permanence. Is precious life a side effect of cosmic alchemy?
Moment of Surrender
You're always around when I don't need you to be. I have such a hard time saying no to you when you're in front of me.
Every bridge I've drove across,
I've burnt it down in hopes I've lost
any way back to you.
Sweet and discrete, I feel like I am dreaming.
When I come to, your bitter hue, burns me down to shame.