The nebulosity of winds, inter-dimensional kinetic waves, rhythm, melody, harmony and the exasperated tones that full my dream-journeyed wings , lead me ever further on my monolithic quest, yes like the lull domineer of old stone, the self prophecies of ones own death can bring out the warrior in us all.
The amphetaminesque freeform jazz solos of all tomorrow’s raves propels me, like a loosened fungal spore drifting through outer space. An interminable alien ciphering ancient rhythms while encapsulated in the bone-cage of a matriarchic whale laid to rest well below the photic zone of last mitternacht's dream. I find it unsettling to imagine the scenario of her death. Her youth and a promised kingdom stolen by untimly death; nothing but a ransacking lot of scoundrel sharks with nothing better to amuse themselves with. Keeper of secrets, she is, knowledge that can only be deemed abstruse to humanity. There she lies as pure as death while the Charcharian beasts bare open her untainted breast. The oozing crimson blood of the tender queen is now shrouding the violence in an osmosising vector of of the dying queens cherished and dazzling phosphorescent biogenic fluids and then her departing soul gives but one last echo into the endless oceans of her unrealized empire. With the beasts included, it promises to be quite a theatrical spectacle.
I digress. I need not much more than the droning synchronicity of my organotronic orchestra to allow the entirety of my entity flux across the fluorescent bloodstream of humanities absurdist landscapes of a Utopia that never existed. And I get of at the next bus stop.
The amphetaminesque freeform jazz solos of all tomorrow’s raves propels me, like a loosened fungal spore drifting through outer space. An interminable alien ciphering ancient rhythms while encapsulated in the bone-cage of a matriarchic whale laid to rest well below the photic zone of last mitternacht's dream. I find it unsettling to imagine the scenario of her death. Her youth and a promised kingdom stolen by untimly death; nothing but a ransacking lot of scoundrel sharks with nothing better to amuse themselves with. Keeper of secrets, she is, knowledge that can only be deemed abstruse to humanity. There she lies as pure as death while the Charcharian beasts bare open her untainted breast. The oozing crimson blood of the tender queen is now shrouding the violence in an osmosising vector of of the dying queens cherished and dazzling phosphorescent biogenic fluids and then her departing soul gives but one last echo into the endless oceans of her unrealized empire. With the beasts included, it promises to be quite a theatrical spectacle.
I digress. I need not much more than the droning synchronicity of my organotronic orchestra to allow the entirety of my entity flux across the fluorescent bloodstream of humanities absurdist landscapes of a Utopia that never existed. And I get of at the next bus stop.
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