They can't be translated into words to be encoded onto a  screen.

Apollonian and Dionysian

there's no taking breaks; it's constant; directly unavailable, indirectly tangible or is it directly tangible, indirectly unavailable; pleasuring the senses; covering the eyes to block out existence; pinching the nose to swallow reality

the flavors of existence; I can't even describe the taste of honey without using the word honey to describe the taste; how does one describe the taste of experience, existence, reality, humanity; you just taste them and use the labels that have already been placed on the flavors to describe them until discovery creates new names for the flavors experienced; humans teaching humans or is that an inaccurate description of the taste?

I always get scared of my own shadow because I forget it's attached to me because I'm stuck inside of this tiny little box of perspective

the illusion of moving forward
distracts from the reality of sinking
below potential
individual growth
collective expansion
rainbows have opposite ends
does it really matter which side is closer?
spectrum of self colors the world of humanity
imaginary friends scare away the friendly ghosts
shadows celebrate twilight
the rays of the sun get lost in the spotlight

Trying to write outside of the mind but always going to perceive inside of consciousness.
I would like to perceive consciousness outside of my limited perception, but I'm stuck inside of my restricted cognition only allowed to see out of two crossed eyes.
How can I think clearly when my brain is submerged in human dignity?
box within a box that's boxed into a reality I haven't even experienced yet
sensing a sense to create nonsensical sentences for the sake of sensation
this is all pretense
I'm surrounded by the building blocks of human interpretation and behavior.
what does this even mean?
I think it means I'm desperate for attention but no one hears the jingle.
I can't even enjoy the sound.

mirroring each other's fate
dancing to conquer the hate
having to laugh out loud
crying away from the crowd
touched by intuitive sensations
lost in a world of imagination
ticking away a hopeful future
displaying a limitless suture
teaching the taught
living with wrought
surrounded by peers
covered in tears
delusional hope
yet still having to cope
to cope with the pain of brokenness
but writing with the illusion of openness

escaping the cosmos, bounded to human motivation
mystical idolization is like a treadmill in front of a big screen projecting a jogging path
comprehension of my mind is to say a brick is self-aware
opinions rain down from the toxic sludge of my indignation
transient emotions litter the streets of perspective
I can't see out of this fog of destitution
It's amazing that I can still breathe a sigh of ambition
dreams drag my body to the line of expiration
but the milk has gone bad way before conception
time to heal old wounds and sleep with the light on

the universe is its own sphere of subjective reality
nothingness is objective reality
so if nothing is outside of everything, how did everything get created inside of nothing?
is creation creation?
what is creation and what's the opposite?
we're not alone in this adventure towards unification
there are other lineages outside of this place
it's going to be like Star Trek
will humans be dominated by more advanced species?





striving toward equilibrium in every aspect of life

nutrients of inspirational hope is shared through the roots of creative expression while the competitive axe is used to chop down trees for self-preserving fires

I know to aim toward purpose,
but I'm always drunk off of subjectivity.

Inside is out and outside is in,
orbiting consciousness

Influence to influence
to not be heavily influenced

How can I think clearly
when the fog of traumatization surrounds me?

I unfolded myself and found an unfinished sketch,
a caricature of what I presume is my reality.
I don't have a pencil,
but the sight of this image has erased my volition.

Complications simplified to sit in a box of building blocks

My instinctual drive is to run away without a license.

Dreams explode in the hands of my innocence.
Showers of thought pour into the reservoir of my ignorance.

Snapshots of infinity help with the illusion of tangibility.

ideologies
idolization
disillusionment
social deficiency


brokenness, misguided motivation, unknowingly unknowing
degradation
depletion

deprivation
indignation
dehumani­zation
objectification
trying to transcend a history of being overlooked and undervalued
authority and subordinate
displacement
tolerance and resilience
learned helplessness
dissociation
efforts and rewards
risks and benefits
who are we? a history of familiar entropy