Writter's Block III, or how I forgot about the La Vey perception and went Summerian
My guts out, out of perception, have chased optical illusions for too long, and for the lack of a watch my hours wonder behind me, stealing each one an idea.
Posterior skull, I find a feather and a bottle of ink, spilled already on a paper where one word is the other, one idea is a number of reasoning expressing itself countless times. Blue. Black. Swelling before my eyes, the predictions are as follow:
Soma of senses, with no fluid but our inner power. Trance made me realize the delusions are in our dytopia, saturated by the windows of our own sanctuary of flesh. Surrounded by waves and smokes, we are six feet under in turning our eyes to our viscera. The voices we should hear louder are the farthest ones. Why?
"Keep your friends close, Raziel, and your enemies even closer"... where to put ourselves?
... Once your eyes can't remember each exact word, find yourself in your chamber. Let your breath be your only company. You'll find the first tower of the universe: your five windows. You'll use your first tool to bring it down: with your thoughts, deceive the stains of sound from the outter space, avoid the puddles of light rotting behind your eyelids. Count back from a hundred... count as many times as necessary, until the veil is set on each glass.
At dawn, you'll be clear how many persons are in the room. Your heartbeat will come and whisper to your ear, insanity number one, castrating loneliness. An empire in flames, toss your every first- hand tool to the abyss: don't reply to your thoughts, until they bore and leave. Hammers and bricks lascerated train of thought on steel of scissors.
"Our bodies are merely vehicles for our minds". What do we keep inside?
All your wings a bag, uncertain content... exposed gates, genesis...
And how much can we learn from ourselves?
How much do we ignore when the answers are in our inner sweat?
Melodies certain darts, unspoken words won't shut, mithosis of knowledge and some grinding organs. Fireflies in flames illuminating our way through the corridors... ever gone as deep as you can, and then a little deeper? Just remember how we are not only thought, but also silence, and within the silence hides each answer, each vision of the future, every experience of the past...
Allow yourself to deprave yourself from your outter world one day, and from the thinking crust, and you'll find a palpitating spirit that might have been trying to talk to you.
Vlad Israfel
Posterior skull, I find a feather and a bottle of ink, spilled already on a paper where one word is the other, one idea is a number of reasoning expressing itself countless times. Blue. Black. Swelling before my eyes, the predictions are as follow:
Soma of senses, with no fluid but our inner power. Trance made me realize the delusions are in our dytopia, saturated by the windows of our own sanctuary of flesh. Surrounded by waves and smokes, we are six feet under in turning our eyes to our viscera. The voices we should hear louder are the farthest ones. Why?
"Keep your friends close, Raziel, and your enemies even closer"... where to put ourselves?
... Once your eyes can't remember each exact word, find yourself in your chamber. Let your breath be your only company. You'll find the first tower of the universe: your five windows. You'll use your first tool to bring it down: with your thoughts, deceive the stains of sound from the outter space, avoid the puddles of light rotting behind your eyelids. Count back from a hundred... count as many times as necessary, until the veil is set on each glass.
At dawn, you'll be clear how many persons are in the room. Your heartbeat will come and whisper to your ear, insanity number one, castrating loneliness. An empire in flames, toss your every first- hand tool to the abyss: don't reply to your thoughts, until they bore and leave. Hammers and bricks lascerated train of thought on steel of scissors.
"Our bodies are merely vehicles for our minds". What do we keep inside?
All your wings a bag, uncertain content... exposed gates, genesis...
And how much can we learn from ourselves?
How much do we ignore when the answers are in our inner sweat?
Melodies certain darts, unspoken words won't shut, mithosis of knowledge and some grinding organs. Fireflies in flames illuminating our way through the corridors... ever gone as deep as you can, and then a little deeper? Just remember how we are not only thought, but also silence, and within the silence hides each answer, each vision of the future, every experience of the past...
Allow yourself to deprave yourself from your outter world one day, and from the thinking crust, and you'll find a palpitating spirit that might have been trying to talk to you.
Vlad Israfel