hypnopompic visionary
On a swing~set. A triad of torment; tortured for my love, it's a boxed in swing~set. Standing above them my voice is filtered with insecurities.
But I've performed before the videogoddess! The anorexic videogoddess shrouded in jade and shades of peach fluttering flower petals with tanned skin.Theres no attrection. Off screen she's a lizard; a chameleon. She's become a meager valued shapeshifter. i have no interest in this my heart belongs to this humble tor-mentor.
those i trust speak in scorn of her..."she has the face of a whore." The summoned shaman with reed antlers upon his head comes pounding time with his serpent staff. With a sweet melody the shaman pounds intriguing logos into my mind. It becomes known that all things past and present are symbolic representations lacking solid substance. I am shown this scrolling metamorphosis of conscious imagery."here it is the turtle who runs fast and the rabbits who are the tricksters."
My friend who scorns, who's turned me on to the sideral philosophies, who's turned me to the shaman is contradicting himself. He is the shaman, he too is a shapeshifter.
Alone now with my tor-mentor i am astonished at how she holds my face gently in her lap. With her lips near my nape she sings. Somehow her voice penetrates my spine and her music effects my entire nervous system. my bones all tingle, it's something i've never felt before! How is it that i've forgotten her wispy words?!
But I've performed before the videogoddess! The anorexic videogoddess shrouded in jade and shades of peach fluttering flower petals with tanned skin.Theres no attrection. Off screen she's a lizard; a chameleon. She's become a meager valued shapeshifter. i have no interest in this my heart belongs to this humble tor-mentor.
those i trust speak in scorn of her..."she has the face of a whore." The summoned shaman with reed antlers upon his head comes pounding time with his serpent staff. With a sweet melody the shaman pounds intriguing logos into my mind. It becomes known that all things past and present are symbolic representations lacking solid substance. I am shown this scrolling metamorphosis of conscious imagery."here it is the turtle who runs fast and the rabbits who are the tricksters."
My friend who scorns, who's turned me on to the sideral philosophies, who's turned me to the shaman is contradicting himself. He is the shaman, he too is a shapeshifter.
Alone now with my tor-mentor i am astonished at how she holds my face gently in her lap. With her lips near my nape she sings. Somehow her voice penetrates my spine and her music effects my entire nervous system. my bones all tingle, it's something i've never felt before! How is it that i've forgotten her wispy words?!