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My thoughts flow in cursive & I can’t always read my own handwriting

What’s the matter

little light

being shaking

as if afraid

of the dark?


Inside me

a fiery fricative

consonant field

of plasma

(ie. an aberrant substance)

with so many

points of center


burning in all

directions, directing


some small thing

like a slip

of the tongue //eject

reject\\ react

by increasing

torque against

the pale blue dot

dangling, such

magnificent magnetic

eruptions already

pulsating from


the sun

sometimes just

wants to hide

but cannot


even in empty space


feeling constantly


and carving a track

in the dark, itself

a red dot

subject to creation

A thought :: an awakening is very interesting, because this is the epiphany moment into a new realization of being, a type of being that was always there but hidden from the mind. There are an infinite number of potential awakenings, because we can weave an infinite amount of stories, & stories stitch together our frame of being (or non-being, if that is the story). Because of this there is no ultimate enlightenment, we always have the potential to wake up again into a new story, though even a sliver of enlightenment contains the whole (which is, distilled into a single word, contentment)

Your face is fine

Make up your mind

You’ve got allotta reasons

To walk the line


An alibi

What’s left behind

I take it day by day

When I move through time


Step out of frame

All words are lame

I don’t know how to say

What I mean to convey

You got me thinking is this a simulation

Neil degrades Tyson says it’s an explanation


This might be heaven so don’t spend all your complaining

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