Air (breath) is a mean, transmission train to inhale earth (forest and wood) into fire (Apollo, me) and let it settle into water (Lakshmi).
It’s all space, so much ether and we’re nothing. Planets and rocks floating and nothing will hit you because you’re with father.
Mahlakhshmie namaha, you’re with the water goddess.
Hai - name that keeps coming up and flowing in the mind. No meaning, no person of specific physicality.
Blue is all around me, like the sky. It’s all air and matter is dense and strong but not suffocating.
Krai krai krai sound of crows like sacred birds of darkness and male figures. They’re where I am. They are who I am and I consist of their multiplicity while they consist of me.
Sawing pin - I am reduced and inverted into myself like a safety push pin with pearl head. I’m not perfectly round but i am perfectly solid and my tail is of porcelain not metal. I am being white and I am being charcoal at the same time. And my tail moves in circles into unpredictable trajectory.
I am not human only. I am a dance, movement with the lack of music; and toes; and my right ankle kracking like a shell of an egg who was from the clam.
I am so inherently good, and I should not be scared to claim it. But pick who to be good with. Waste is not fine. Even when it’s wasted good.
Hi R, it was you and it was me. It was your true you and my true me and that’s why I keep going back to speak to you. But nothing was real, you’re not real, before you TURN real.
Oh! I’m back to the same world. There are multiple mes and multiple them! And it is funny how this consciousness was sent back to the same body, to the same them.
I am craving blackberries, thick and blunt red wine, with sour juice of cranberries.
It’s all Rachmaninov, Schubert and Scriabin, not Liszt.
No comments:
Post a Comment