checking potent aftershock
observing seismic anniversary
checking another tremor
resuming constrained writing

annexing hidebound constituents
hugging incoming eschatologies
fighting pervasive insomnia
battling invasive fatigue

damning incompetent fools
awaiting furtive escape
abandoning corporate wasteland
summoning celestial syzygy

detesting spaghetti code
protruding riparian dolphin
establishing unilinear escritoire
glowing cybernetic cynosure

avoiding eternal invisibility
supporting valued customer
performing lexical gymnastics
scrooping notification sounds

restoring usual happiness
glorifying darkwave fanfares
collapsing old relationships
raising ambient awareness

defining wolf people
propagating yesteryear's spectre
achieving hemispheric virality
testing weekend legerity
installing iron curtain

propagating today's spectre

developing niche audiences
transmitting abstract propaganda
disappearing thought experiments
overusing various condiments

double-checking hyper-real emotions
rubbernecking celestial explosions
observing splendid holiday
exploding volcano day

erupting bucolic mountain
disrupting hectic shouting
perfecting suggestive triptychs
checking festive pyrotechnics

drifting across multiverse
regifting glossy paperwork
writing six-lined hexagrams
liking two-toned instagrams

recalling pygmalion sculptures
brawling tatterdemalion cultures
"rambling corporate shill
rattling rapid prosody"
"battling hamburger hill
ambling hundredth library"
"sensing ideological schism
pending guttural neologism"

glowing verdant background
foreshadowing palmyra takedown
developing geopolitical mess
geminating quasi-couplet stress

"hugging cultural diversity
shrugging irrational adversity"

distancing spooky raindrops
avoiding potential burnout
implementing lexical databank
approaching crash-scene sudser

becoming increasingly selective
escaping tyrannical bureaucracy
perpetuating cut-throat capitalism
purchasing contrived happiness
incorporating chance elements
relaxing rigid structures
reheating your retweet

holding theoretical design
smiling beach life
scrutinizing eternal simulation
rushing artificial apothegm
annexing facetious document
freaking creepy centipedes

writing neural structure
congratulating yestreen's warriors
encouraging seatbelt usage
boosting abstract setting
sensing frivolous ochlocracy

keeping hypothetical metropolis
blurring metaphorical æsthetic
scrutinizing computational festival
memorializing towel day

raising six-fingered paw
eternizing fragment schedule
liking subtextual repository
quoting quintessential quidnunc

finding ideological style
disregarding their slovenliness
planning spatial factoid
spinning glacial ellipsoids

enjoying eternal spreadsheet
deleting repetitive tweet
awaiting festival lineup
gainsaying unethical startups

observing turgid experiment
contemplating conniving contrivances
enjoying dynamic project
dropping two-toned simulation
finding harmonic space
finalizing warring cavaliers

detecting enigmatic apathy
retrieving potential exchange
meddling middling muddling
baking hypnagogic pizza

spinning galactic dinosaur
building trans-pacific partnership
finishing theoretical mission
giggling agog googlers

crashing atypical tessellation
cherishing precious hexagons
proliferating western lottery
cretaceousing funkaholic skeletor

blurring turgid gallery
cancelling tsunami warnings
extemporizing incoherent neologisms
transmitting harmonic rave

gliding black hawks
hiding quacked ducks
archiving animated light
googling moonbow imagery

ignoring relatable messages
observing unfinished world
generating optional content
continuing exponential growth

Vernarth and his companions delighted in the company of the biosphere since he was in the Eclectic Spiritual Portal, and in this dimension only he could be. Later, they communicated only through his donkeys, when they wanted to send them messages or share with him, they mounted one of these equids and they could pass into this atmosphere of ultraviolet light that separated them. More than an egregious Pythagorean calculation, he already stood out in his eon of matter-spiritual energy Vernacentricus, as a quantum station of the geodesy of the Megaron that has already begun to be built. At this precious moment the secular and demiurge satellites of him arrive, they came with the foundation of the points to refer to definitively raise the Ultramundis Vernacentricus. From the Vóreios or boreal the apocalypse of San Juan will be intertestamental with the canons of Zefian that transmigrated from the powers from the transversal valleys of the Horcondising, essentially following the sensory track of the Nothofagus Obliqua to attract the iterated populations of the forest.
The patriarchs and the orthodox mountain range appeared in the cords of the fungi called Ambrosiella ceratocystidaceae, to provide the Ambrosia Mercurial, as a nutritional addition to the main pilasters of the temple, with great influence of fungal fungi. Everything was beginning to demarcate from the eruv of the Zefian arrow that was named Tetarto Vélos, or fourth arrow that was already beginning with its culminating operation with the borer beetles, demarcating the urev of the Vóreios throughout the region and on the oaks of Patmos, that began to be located from the Meli Witran Mapu Mapuche winds, beginning with Pikún-kürüf Northwind with the first two arrows of the Taxotas, and Sur Waiwén, of the Pezhetairoi, of the quantum of transmigration of the Horcondising-Panhellenic sub-mythology. Then the Puelche drags the borer beetles with more force to lift the uprising fungi of the Mandragoron by the eastern vertical, to culminate with the Lafkén-kürüf all attached to the axis that supports them from this great bilocation. The boreal is demarcated, so that the Necromancer Ezpatkul with his Augrum and gold teeth, twisted the tendency of the beetles to move the main columns of the frontispiece, being colossal in reality with twice the diameter of the central ones. Then the conclusive and posterior ones of the rectangular quadrant of the Beit Hamikdash were bilocated, to bilocate the Bern Olive Trees from Gethsemane so that they finally joined the Meltemi, and towards the aeolian winds of Tramontane Eolionimia falling on the Tekhelet of Paul of Tarsus, dropping relevant heights of some cranes with gravitating silt on their extremities, and with garbeas that were secondarily colonized on the banks of the desert areas of the rocky Hamada. As was previously proverbial, three birds climbed reflecting the crown of the kings in Bethlehem, Arriving at the sacred native city, and beginning the choirs of Nativity and passion for the hiss in tenuity on the twelve Giant Camels, where they paid special attention to rebuild another temple with a sigh greater than a Sheba Dean. The canon of Policleto was renewed with Zefian who agreed with San Juan, for this kanon that will be the relevant line of topographic surveying. Thus the basal measurements of the golden number will begin with the acroteria concerted summer seats of prosperity next to the Metopes. Ezpatkul would bring with his magic the red blood cells of Betelgeuse along Leiak with all the Templar three-dimensional morphology, naming this singular parapsychology of Pope Urban II who proclaimed the First Crusade at the Council of Clermont, in France, on November 27, 1095, to delineate the paradigm in the anatomy of Gaugamela bled into Vernarth's breastplate, as the archaic and first crusade that would inspire Christian supremacy, which was already anticipated before the Christian era to come. It will be visible gestures of the trajectory of the arrows of the Zefian Torah that were deposited with their hallelujahs from the ***** of Crete. The sulfur yellow and red blood cells marked the radiosity of the Eclectic Portal that opened to give Vernarth material egress, so he would take his tools and go with his donkey's escorts for the chromatic that will be sulfur yellow and red blood cells, both dependent on the complementation with the Cinnabar, and in the raised bodies of Court V of the Helleniká Necropolis in Kímolos.

Under vileness or absence of light among darkness or apocryphal light of Evil, in contrast to the robust equanimity of light and shadow partisan of Saint John the Apostle, for the hegemonic good of his incorruptible vision. The naturalness made the world apologetic with the immune defenses of the polish textures, they invoiced proportional mathematical measures ibidem of the Hommo Novis, and of the Geometric Pythagoreanism for a body seven and a half times of Polykleitos, starting from the base to the feet as the base of the plinth or frieze until reaching near the capital that exemplifies the chin, before reaching the cornice, highlighting the figure of the capital with the front of the proportional ligament between the trunk, and the columns duly. Here the seven-headed Kanon of a David would recite the measures of the psalms, or beads in degrees with hoped-for dimensions. The kinetics was earth towed by towing carts in tetra bronze arrows, which balanced the unbalanced balance and harmony of the created whole. The symmetry of the transverse poles was muscled to make kinetic centripetal in the inertia of the bolt when hitting the faint glow of the canon rays. Making himself the sustenance in the stone and the mound, towards the Vernarth counterpose when the Himathion was tried, he appeared disguised and in composing. After this initial task, they approached the fire and scalding water to **** herbs, which pretended to be the formula of the backhoe extracted from the palimpsest of the generals of Alexander the Great, when they distributed their illegitimate Ark with royal titles; they were Perdiccas, Antipater, Crátero, Eumenes de Cardia, and others like the satraps who came to be enunciated as kings; Antigonus, Ptolemy, and Seleucus. Residing only the most substantial military colleague of them in this parapsychological saga Vernarth; and his brother Etréstles de Kalavrita who seconded and predestined him in his monolithic, and in the constituent sovereignty of Polis, for the purpose of reigning and raising his Kopis and Xifos intertwined in aldehyde manumissions and in the alcoholic carbonyl residues emanated from the Backhoe ferment and Nepenthe, depositing LSD in substantial amounts to align itself with Seleucus, and materially present itself in the sphere of Patmos as two representatives of both empires, one ancient Christian and the other Panhellenic, placing Seleucus in that totalitarianism over that of Alexander the Great, now extinct. On the last day after working and being satisfied with the construction work of the frontispiece, and its major columns, Vernarth joins them after temporarily leaving the eclectic portal, they sit by the fire to review the plans of the subsequent construction process del Megaron, along with his seven donkeys, mentioning Borker's necromancy. Since the omens of Wontehlimar, the linemen before Borker became reigning, for the static balustrade that will surround the Megaron, where all the Ibics rings were enlisted chorally by the patronage of the Hellenic Orthodox legacy of Alexander the Great after he was rescued by Wonthelimar from Babylon, and finally take you to your physical and spiritual shelter. The eruv of the Nótos was demarcated, surpassing the limits of the rings of stefánes Íbix, or Hoops of ibix, like nano kvantikoí daktýlioi, Nano-Quantum Ring auguring sensitize the dermis and its carpal phalanges. From the intertestamental, such as in Vóreios, passages from the Old Testament are explored here that says…: “The temple that was the only legitimate sanctuary of the Israelite people contained within it the Ark of the Covenant, a golden altar, and candlesticks of the same metal. , a table with sacred loaves and other utensils used to carry out the worship of the god Yahveh. It was located on the esplanade of Mount Moriá, in the city of Jerusalem, possibly where the Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa Mosque are located. From this dome the larnax of the Great Macedonian, a prioris, the schismatics of ancient Christianity, and orthodox Judaic will be derived, separating from each other, after the fall of the second temple. Of this class and previously this was detonated due to the undivided troops of the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar II, who destroyed it in 586 BC, also taking captives a large part of the inhabitants of the Kingdom of Judah, to Mesopotamia, giving rise to the exile and captivity of the Hebrews in Babylon. A reflective Borker of this premonition, he takes the Ibics Rings and selects one of them to join them with the first Zefian Arrow, as nano Kvantikoí Daktýlioi, quantum Nano-ring, to ensue in future similar events, avoiding invasions that cause looting and destruction. of the temple to be built on Patmos.

Nano-scales for Borker's nanotechnological conception, and estimates of threats of invasions and climatic changes, in one billion (109) and one billionth (10-9). In a meter there are one billion nanometers or, in other words, a nanometer is one-billionth of a meter. For those who will have to configure the dimensions of the Mandragoron "Temple of Vernarth" with carbon atoms, the support will be made in chemical units for the re-conception of nature, and its two- or three-dimensional networks. The nanotubes with 60 carbons, distributed in 20 hexagons and 12 pentagons, according to the geometric patterns of the cellular scale, in the conformation of the Hexagonal Primogeniture, being in this way concealed by the Ibics Rings, for each linear meter and cubic, traced by a nanometer which is one-billionth of a meter. Here, the borer beetles will catch the fungi ambrosiella ceratocystidaceae and will displace the virals that move geometrically from the beams of the Icosahedron.

The ranks of Falangists moved triangularly in multiple directions, to reach the Austral del Nótos de Borker, thus they would form the magic vectors of the polyhedron internally, triangulating at the top of the ram that carries an illustrious triangular phalanx, opening up the areas with its prop. vulnerable, to consolidate the buttress of the façade; the Áullos Kósmos, and pay homage to the apse that was filled with rejoicing. Sones of the philosopher Plato, made them regular or perfect in convex polyhedra, such that on all their faces were regular and equal polygons were made, and in all solid angles also equal. From this boulevard, the theology of Vernarth and Alexander the Great, fully professor and Platonic guide, will follow, making nomenclatures of nanostructures that affirm the volume and structure of the central sections of the radier, and their foundation bases shielded by the icosahedron in the nanotechnological scale, having physical material cells, for adaptation of structural changes and their environment.

The volume will be adapted microscopically, to analyze small particles with the return of the fourth arrow or Tetra Sagita of Zefian, absorbing nutrients and discarding the environmental threats based on carbon dioxide, to make a limiting membrane beauty, which moderates the nanoparticles that borer beetles were developing. The solidity of the partitions and walls will have the exact proportion of the nanomaterials, to adapt to the general area of the Mandragoron Nótos, which will ooze the surpluses due to the porosities, towards a volume highly resistant to invasions of limestone nanomaterials, and boulders that are made from the flow of the buttress of the apse that rises towards Aorion. The interior and exterior faces will be supplements of prayers of Prochoro, in didactics that will shield with the Antiphons Benedictus, and the hive of Plato's Icosahedron, becoming a consular material organism, and solid in interstices or leftovers from the feces of the Borers, until pasting and to reach the volume of the polyhedron, and its twenty faces pointing towards the physiognomy of the boulevard, tracing the general volume of the Mandragoron, and intercommunicating the quantum support and its theological harmony.

Says Borker: “if the organic cells operate with homage and with greater multicellular fields, here are the nanoparticles, in greater fields of fiatto, and in the slides that will recirculate in favor of the throat of the Mandragoron, and in the carbon nanotubes, essential elements of the biosphere and in useful layers of life that retrace the rest. There will be 20 linear meters in the area that lavishes the width and height, the projection of this scale of nanotechnology, will make the three-dimensional shape and a large voluminous serial in the Austral Nótos ”Vernarth's purging dimension, made him materialize at times and laugh out loud because he knew that everyone who was with him loved him! and from this fraction of faith, the Angel Raphael diagnoses them bread with archangelic essence; herb with great healing powers, especially in the dimension of the eclectic portal that allowed Vernarth to concern himself with material living beings.

Definitely, the second step of consolidation of the Megaron was established in the linear that the seven donkeys eagerly left, as masons and cabinetmakers who worked together with the Hexagonal Primogeniture. From this moment everything begins to have an inter-dimensional aspect, from the Invisible Eclectic Portal to the majestic geodesy and orography of this temple, which incorporated everyone for a charitable epiphany together with everyone in the Profitis Ilias, which was already crowned as the cusp Spiritual World of the Vernarthian Eclectic.

You leave the dingy room 333 and walk
Out onto ***** honeycomb patterned carpet stretching
Down the infinite hall towards an open door
Where the housekeeper’s cart is parked
She emerges from behind the stacks of folded towels and ***** blankets
Body younger than it looks somehow she’s smiling in wrinkles of a sunken, toothless mouth
yet underneath the image is an original warmth untouched by a thousand years of junk
You say hello in passing and then onward down the steps covered with plastic
The ***** yellow carpet stains so worn they’ve become part of the design
A window overlooks a courtyard where junkies lay nodding in the sun
The girl at the front desk eyes you half suspicious as you slip out the door and into streets
of Denver where mountains loom in distant vistas obscured by skyscrapers
appearing as solemn watchers uncorrupted, beckoning some strange recognition
You remember your friend saying that the mountains play tricks, cast illusions
Stories of weary travelers confounded by the mountains, lost for days
Weather changing rapidly as buildings rising new construction in the city
You walk past the capital, past the U.S. mint, past the park where bums sleep or stare blankly
Openly with eyes dark as Moroccan hashish looking for a point of entry
A word you missed, a fumbled thought, a dropped coin
This will happen:
You will lock eyes with a man sitting on the cement, his hand gently resting
On an old rusted toolbox
He calls you over, more incantation than command
Says he’s got what you need
He opens up the box and calls you closer
Look
A box of uncut crystals shining in the high altitude
He smiles with a jagged and decayed knowing
You decline yet something insists you need these crystals
These stolen gypsy gems somehow imbued with meaning
Glittering in the sunlight in the park in the old worn out face like chewed leather
Glistening like the clear air rising up above the smell of **** and water seared meat and *****
You walk among the blind alleys where junkies shift and shuffle like shadows rearranging
They themselves part of the scenery, part of the alley backdrop and rattling train track sounds
You’re passing by and one calls out: “Don’t let ‘em tell ya I didn’t say live your life, son”
You look back and see a huddled shadow tying off beside a chain link fence
He’s looking right at you with perfect insect calm, features out of focus, dull and grey
You pass the scene in silence and feel the eyes of hunger casting subliminal fuzz down the alley
At midnight you will drink tequila in your room and hear the endless car noise of the city
While you sit smoking out the window staring at the brick wall and down into the alley below
Where windows of the hostel open up and your friend said once there was a woman
In the opposite room ******* and he took off all his clothes and they stood naked
Looking at one another from opposite windows but he never went across the hall to meet her
You will laugh and be amazed and get drunk
As the driving beat of car stereos, bass and hip-hop incantations rise up through the splintered window frame yellow like decay
You’ll sit out on the street corner smoking
A gigantic hash joint
Passing it back and forth
Denver’s finest
As you listen to the shrill harmony
Of the corner night club filled with glitter and women and alcohol all spilling out into the streets
& you will watch them all go running, howling, yelling, screaming, laughing, *******, and
spreading out like fireworks across a vast empty space
The cars that never end
Choked out exhaust and marijuana smoke twisting in the midnight air rising up untouchable where the mountain breezes cap the city
& penetrates the human circus all around you
You will disappear up the hostel steps returning
Higher than you’ve ever been before
Each step, each movement you are disappearing
Melting into the smoke-tinged plaster
Your pulse is in your footfalls there
Among the honeybees and hexagons
Your breath beat in rhythms of your skull
After an impossible moment
You arrive back at your room, 333
The demon door more unfamiliar
This will happen
You’ll go inside and lock the door
Knowing you have the fear
Raw and powerful
Pure animal chemical reaction
Every tissue and fiber now opposed
To the very situation, the very fact of existence, of
Immediate dislocation in space/time
Alien moments here in Colorado hostel room
Where junkies sit in vegetable stasis
Feeling nothing whatsoever
& there’s a needle hidden in the room somewhere
Your friend says not to worry man
& what did you expect anyway?
“Yeah it’s kind of a flophouse”
“Just throw it out the window”
You take a long deep breath and look
Into a mirror you see your form reflected
As your friend pulls out his friend, the trusty map
And there, emblazoned in ****** letters
Denver
The very words looks sinister
Denver
Written in ****** words of ******
You try to realize what you came here for
Not this
& breathing deeply you lay upon the bed
The too-thin mattress covered in plastic
& think of home
A lifetime & world of roads away
You seek to abandon all you know
And become attuned to the rhythmic engine of sound
You will become filled with desire and yet completely empty
Cockroach needle empty park wind howling distant peaks sculpted valleys
Self-reliant water smell pity bums like silent watchers in the night
Nature spreads her view of time in silent moments
Stillness in the room
In the spaces between sounds
In the fear of comfort separation
In the freeness of creation
In the wild faith of travel
In the foreign teachings
***** steps and office buildings
In the bars and libraries
In the hostel *******
In the wholly new experience
In the squalor of the uncontrollable
In the corridor passing like a phantom
In the stones and cactus flowers
In the romance of the body
Eager to pass through
Into this new dream
Tomorrow we are heading for the mountains

How do I love the unlovable?
I cannot walk any further for you.
I keep digging and need a new shovel.
I have walked miles just to look at you.
I walked in circles and squares and hexagons.
What more can I do?
Are you even here, or are you gone?
I want to love you,
but you won't let me.
It can't be me, I've thought this through.
For, I have loved many.
Have you ever loved at all?
If not, take away my shovel
and hand me a saw.
I can't take this anymore.
Can't you see me begging?
I've been your lady and your *****.
Is there something I'm forgetting?
I'm starting to think the door is closing,
or maybe it already has.
Now I have to break through a window
and I'm going to get cut by the glass.

(not a poem i guess but eh)


–

Space keeps falling to the sides. I try to concentrate, - I mean, I make a token effort every now and again,- but concentration, fixation is always in terms of something external, something I'm not sure I can deal with.  I roll over and go back to sleep.

–

'Where's the flour?'
'Where you left it.'
'Which is where?'
'On the table. What you want it for anyway?'
'Which table?'
'Haha. The generic maple with the ugly-*** spandrels. What are you making?'
'You think we could afford that? Nah, it's like, faux-pine or some ****. And like muffins.'
'Oh good, there's banan's that need using up'
'No no, like, other muffins. Crumpets and such. Got any golden syrup?'
'I think there's some maple.'
'No, it's like, ply, I swear.'

–

I haven't moved in days. I need to. He'll come eventually and I don't want him to see me like this. Plus, I need to locate that smell. I can't have guests over with it here. I'm just not sure where it is though. I  feel like it's on my left arm when I’m in the middle of the room, but off to the right everywhere else. It's.. acerbic, but fermenting, like vegetables on the onset of rot but not quite there yet. Not that I know; I haven't moved in days. I don't want to smell it again. Also garlic, definitely garlic.

–

We visited the inland sea the other day. The hundred years since last time hadn't changed it one bit. The beached clay was brittle under the midday sun, and the cracking footsteps fragmented it into a hundred hexagons.
               'I hear a strain of the pathogen is airborne. It's only a matter of time now'
A group of tourists park up by the shore. A child holds out their arms and runs in small circles.

–

The corridor keeps flashing. And maybe spinning. It's hard to tell, the colour change starts at a different point each time and there's no discernible rhythm to it. You keep pacing up and down. I feel self conscious that you want to leave, but then again, you did show up unannounced. You shake the snowglobe disinterestedly. The fragments burn like molten static.
'Stop that. I feel like I’m vomiting spiders.'
'You're being dramatic.'
'None the less.'
'Don't worry; you'll get through it. The world is transitioning, and this is just motion sickness.'
'I know that, I didn't say I was worried, I said I wanted it to stop.'

'sorry'

–

We'd always go for a walk at night if we felt we needed to talk. It was an unwritten rule. The veil of amber filter let our more timid thoughts breath in the nebulous darkness. Stark daylight was always too suffocatingly real, and that was the one thing we were never allowed to be; real. You'd always talk superficially if we discussed personal matters. That day you did a one-third spin clockwise and faced my side, and talked grandeloquently, hammed up like on a stage. You gave an embarrassed smile and blew a kiss for the invisible audience. I always felt jealous of those nothings, those non-existent beings, that got to figure into your world.

–

'Christ it's warm today. I can't think.'
'so don't bother.'
I spin in the chair. Whooosh. Whooosh.

–

It's the end of a 6 hour shift. A customer, a mother in her odd thirties, was angry that a sale item was out of stock, like sale items always are: She'd only gone out of her way to shop at this store because of the advertised deal, and we had taken time out of her busy schedule under false pretence. Her child stared at the ground intensely, his eyes watering. I tried to imagine the situation through his eyes, to try and ground myself; to remain both present, but stable. She insisted on speaking to the manager. It's a relief really; He's a skeevy ****, but he at least knows when the customers are just there to start ****, and responds accordingly. He comes over, asks what the problem is. It turns out I entered the code wrong and the item was still available after all. He gets one from out the back, handles the transaction, says have a nice day and apologises for me and everything, and I just stand there blankly; I’d had the graveyard shift the night before and honestly I’m beyond feeling right now, but when she mutters 'dumb *****' as she turns away a tight feeling still twists in my gut anyway.
I come home and leave the door hanging open framed in the setting sun and just drop my bags in the hallway. You're in the kitchen, hunched over a workbench eating out of a mug.
'Whatcha having?'
'Cornflakes.'
'….Cornflakes?'
'Yep.' you pivot as I approach. 'corn..flakes.' you hold out the packet.
'coooornfllllakkkkkkkeeeessssss' I start laughing.
'coooornfllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakes'
we chorus the term in groaning monotone, and I grab the packet out your hand and throw it down and violently stomp it into the ground with every non-energy I have left. You just laugh and egg me on, repeating 'cornflakes! Cornflakes!' in crescendo, ostinato. The satisfaction of each crunch gives me the drive to smash them further, and corn dust spills out of the pulverised cardboard and gets everywhere. In the end I’m panting, my face is a mess of tears, and I collapse over onto it and just roll, bathing in the glorious fragments of reconstituted mulch.

–

'They say another ice age is coming.'
'They also say we'll be swallowed by the sun'
'well, it's true.'
'Yeah, but which'll happen first? I need to know to dress accordingly.'
'Tunnel's up ahead'
'I know, I see it.'
I deliberately swerve to the side and speed up, changing back at the last moment.
'You know I hate it when you do that.'
'What, don't you wanna die together with me? Here and now? Immortalised, as if our existences actually meant something?'
'like Diana and the nameless chauffeur?'
'******* exactly.'
We step out onto the hill, frozen **** tufts breaking underfoot. It's cold as hell but the skies glittering. You get out the telescope you borrowed off your rich *** sister.
'I think that's Jupiter over there.'
'Pfft, Jupiter.'
'What?'
'What's the blankest space you can find?'
'Hmm.. that way?'
You point it in that direction. 'Look'
I stare into it, but it's hard to keep focus while shaking from the cold. You keep adjusting and asking ,’See anything?', eventually some hazy distortion comes into view.
'See, no matter where you look, there's always something there.' You're trying to sound eloquent. 'Even when it seems like you're drowning in nothing.'
I stand back. 'That's terrifying. I feel sick.' I try to breathe but it's shaky and shallow. I stare into the ground, but I can still feel it; the blaze of the myriad innumerable heavens burn into me. Their judging gaze pierces through me and tears me to shreds.  

–

'You know, I think I read that Spinoza thought that consciousness is manifest in the ability of finite beings to continue persisting in and of their own will over time.'
'Doesn't that make a toaster more conscious than us?'
'Yeah, you don't say.'

–

We were twelve and at the department store. It was strange. I'd never taken the bus by myself to just hang out in town before. I always feel disorientated and light-headed in crowds so it had a strangeness; waves of apprehension cushioned by the homogeneity of it. one can be truly alone in a crowd; floating in a sea of otherness, where each gaze is no longer a signification of anything, but a warm static. We were among the aisles of a department store, in the toys and tacky house ornament section. Like, the junk you buy children and grandparents for their birthday. **** that you'd only attribute to people whom have no discernible qualities of their own. We were looking at snow globes. We kept trying to shake them violently enough so that the scene framed within would become entirely lost to the fog; it always felt so disappointing when clarity returned and things re-became what they were. I remember saying, 'I wonder if it tastes like real snow', I don't remember, It was stupid, I don't know why I said it, it sounded cool in my head. But you responded, that I remember, by taking the thing and smashing it against the concrete floor, and pouring out all the fragments into our hands. We tried them together and coughed and choked in laugher. It tasted awful, entirely unsurprisingly. On a rush you stuck one in your pocket, grabbed my hand, and we promptly left the store, and my heart was palpitating, it felt like all the rules, all the natural laws that had prefigured my world were crumbling, and I was terrified, trapped in the gaze of my mothers look of disappointment when we'd be inevitably caught, somehow watching me from its potential future, and I'd no longer be allowed to visit you but it was okay because I was here with you now in this moment and we were alone in this faceless mechanical place crumbling around us, and when we left, and no sirens buzzed, I felt sick with excitement at the unbounded possibility present in everything in every second. I cringe thinking back on it, and feel ashamed at finding such meaning, feeling such unabashed wholesale virtue in indiscriminate destruction, but sometimes, sometimes I still shake that snowglobe as hard as I can, till everything determinate is lost in haze, and I still feel a wave of comfort wash over me.

–

‘We’ve been walking for ages. you know where we’re going, right?’
‘It’s just up ahead. I swear’
‘You swear?’

‘I mean, I’ve only been there once before myself.’
‘****. This way?’
‘Wait-‘
‘What?’
‘Huh. Nothing. Sorry, I thought I heard a car coming.’
…
…
‘I think that’s the ocean?’
‘But.. aren’t we heading inland?’
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah, I swear.’

–

We're in your room. Your reading on your bed and I'm in the swivelly chair by the desk, pretending to work, but really we're just chatting, talking about.. something. Whatever. It was probably stupid, laughing at our own jokes, as always, catchphrases repeated till they loose all meaning. It's been a long day and honestly we're both too tired for coherence by this point, but the lack of effort lends the air an easy comfortability. But then suddenly.. Suddenly you stare into my eyes as if you're looking at me and it's somehow different, an intense gaze that I can't escape, as if you somehow found something located there, something fixed in those abyssal pupils. The feeling is overwhelming and terrifying. I am grounded, ripped into the prison of being and frozen static like a dumb animal transfixed in headlights: I am outside myself facing in, and I’m falling away. I pull you in and kiss you to escape; now, it is your touch that is fixed, your smell, your taste, and I breath a sigh of reprieve. You hold my back as I fall into you. I lace my fingers through the buttons in your shirt and feel the faint pulse of your flickering heartbeat. At once an ever-changing epiphenomena, and a calming rhythmic certainty. I vacantly tug at the buttons and your expression changes, gone is the feeling of suffocating questioning, but one of transfixed observation. Your touch is not a reaching out into something, but a continuation of yourself; I am an instrument of your lust, an extension. Holding me in your arm, you nervously run your hand down from my nape and trace my bra from the strap over the line of my breast. The lightness of your touch is a painful tickling and I push myself into you further, my thighs wrapping around yours. Your touch shoots a burning into me, not painful, but like glowing kindling, or the warmth of a blanket; an immanence, a retreat. I let my mind go blank and we continue; you fumble with my bra as I fumble with your belt. We're both shaking but too far gone to notice, too distant to care. The dry freeze of the night air contrasts your damp heat. You clasp me as you trace your hand under my skirt and I feel your arm brush my thigh. I tremble slightly at the sharp coldness of the damp cotton coming unstuck. After a stretching moment of awkward liminality, I feel you pass into me. It's a burning smoothness, distilled liquor. The rubber is an alien feeling, and for some reason I imagine myself as a giant balloon; a malleable featureless surface, filled with emptiness. I feel myself through the threshold of your presence and I am afraid; I am a boundary which encompasses nothing, and by your passing through I fear that I will be pierced; I will burst and out will flow an obsidian wind that will wither you to nothing, but it will keep coming, an endless torrent that will subsume the world and turn everything to desert, and the only way to save you is to keep it bound up as tight as I possibly can till my heart feels like burning metal, and I feel my tears land on my hand tightly clasping your shoulder. You ask through wavering breaths if I want to stop, but I shake my head; if you left now I would be caught and torn open; no, instead I subsume your undulations into myself; till the rhythm is as oceanic noise; a surface rolling located miles above a lightless motionless centre.

–

The pale green lamplight flickers. A nausea, tepid, but understated. The sentience of moss; an almost motionless drone, but the sense of unfolding. The corridor seems larger than it once was. Blank reflections harrowing accusations, mechanically indifferent but piercing; an alarm clocks wail. I lie still, I lie still. The buzzing repeats. I lie still. I am flowing, seeping through floorboards into the pores of the earth, into colonies of worms and I am lost and free, a motion, a multiplicity, pure form without the anxious drudgery of parts; pure alimentary canal, pure Elysium absolution. The flickering quickens and gets brighter. A pulsating light, a strobe, a beat frequency wavering behind vision. The liquid earth, saturated by light, hardens and dissolves. And 'I' am lost among the ruins, a vague memory of a sentiment. A nostalgic grief, an asphyxiated longing. I reach out to you desperately in the drag of the undertow, but you are the chalk of faded bones; cast to the winds centuries prior. A thousand years pass of blanket darkness, and a unitary bell rings. The flotsam batters against the temple gates. Debris collects in cracks, and my pieces are among them. I cling to retention, and return. I am cold sweat outlining the floorboards, the feeling of clenching before vomiting, repeated endlessly.

–

A few weeks after, turning off an avenue onto the main road, I see you. You're crossing, coming this way. It was bound to happen eventually. I bite back the moisture forming in my eyes and try to remain faceless. You suddenly change your trajectory, and hit the side of a car. It honks at you and you dodge around it. I allow a bitter smile to myself; the fact I can cause you such disorientating discomfit indicates I still mean something to you. Even if it's just a discomforting anxiousness, something beyond the boundary to be avoided, I have causal powers, extension; I can see my flicker of presence in you even now, even if I cannot for the life of me find it within myself. You run around and I walk straight. It's empowering; I can remain fixed, even if the torrent of the world flows around me. At that moment, I feel the indubitable strength to persevere. I am stronger than this world; I am stronger than you. But then, just as suddenly, the feeling folds upon itself and is gone. I felt solidified, just now, by the fact that I was the one that remained in this random encounter. I won, you lost. but Won how? With the ability to pretend that I can exist alone, in a world that means nothing to me? The ability to maintain a solid spectral façade, when underneath, scratching away under the skin, I contain nothing? To continue terrifies me. Knowing that I have the strength to continue terrifies me. That last thing I ever intended was to outlive you. I feel the world drain away from me, and yet I remain, left standing, alone, in a of realm of perpetual nothing.  

–

I feel sick

a hundred years pass in the cavity of the desert. Merchants make trade off raided materials and makeshift weapons. A library is burned. A soldier, wanders freely. An insect buzzes around his face. He darts about the place in annoyance, but it remains. He can't shake it. He closes his eyes. It's still there

I feel sick

the sun burns bright arrhythmic  clicking.  A late twenties couple go clothes shopping, however the child is hungry and will have none of it. Lunch is suggested. They are jocular about the decision, but feel an uneasiness about the indulgence. The air is saturated and dries

Soft as snow you lay your body down
and let the rain tattoo pretty patterns all over
your imperfect skin, let it
fill your gaping mouth, and creep like
clear crystal slugs over your nails, exploring all
your forbidden territories and seeping
past your skin. Like a lover,
pitter-patter, the weight of a single word/raindrop
can crease you up.

Pure blue, sleek seal skin you have,
smiling in the sunshine with all the yellow
rays and all the light pink transparent hexagons
sparkling the sky.

Clear as turquoise water stones,
your eyes open and stretch their potential,
lashes all dark and thick and water-splattered.

Softer now you smile. Needles out and
skin soaked in rain and sunshine.

The presence of Wonthelimar, is invisible before Borker but epically static in his balustrade, and in all the rings that chorally wore them for each patronage of the general Diádoco Seleucus examining him next to him, even more having betrayed the Hellenic legacy, by an orthodox Hellenic one in the disappearance of Alexander the Great in Babylon, without knowing that he had been rescued by Wonthelimar, surpassing the limits of the rings of stefánes Íbix, or Hoops of ibex, like nano kvantikoí daktýlioi, Nano-Quantum Ring auguring sensitize the dermis and its carpal phalanges. From the intertestamental, such as in Vóreios, here passages from the Old Testament are explored that Say...: “The temple that was the only legitimate sanctuary of the Israelite people contained within it the Ark of the Covenant, a golden altar, and candlesticks of the same metal., a table with sacred loaves and other utensils used to carry out the worship of the god Yahveh. It was located on the esplanade of Mount Moriá, in the city of Jerusalem, possibly where the Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa Mosque are located. From this class the schismatics of ancient Christianity and orthodox Judaic derive a prioris, separating one from the other. Previously this was detonated due to the undivided troops of the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar II, who destroyed it in 586 BC, also taking captives a large part of the inhabitants of the Kingdom of Judah, to Mesopotamia, leading to the exile and captivity of the Hebrews in Babylon.

Judicious Borker of this premonition takes the Ibic Rings and selects one of them to unite with the first Zefian Arrow, as nano Kvantikoí Daktýlioi, quantum Nano-ring, to occur in future similar events, avoiding invasions that cause looting and destruction of the temple to be built on Patmos. Nano-scales for Borker's nanotechnological conception, and estimates of threats of invasions and climatic changes, in one billion (109) and one billionth (10-9). In a meter there are one billion nanometers or, in other words, a nanometer is one-billionth of a meter. For those who will have to configure the dimensions of the Mandragoron "Temple of Vernarth" with carbon atoms, the support will be made in chemical units for the re-conception of nature, and its two or three-dimensional networks. The nanotubes with 60 carbons, distributed in 20 hexagons and 12 pentagons, according to the geometric patterns of the cellular scale, in the conformation of the Hexagonal Primogeniture, being in this way concealed by the Ibic Rings for each linear meter, and cubic. Traced by a nanometer which is one-billionth of a meter. Here the borer beetles will trap the fungi and displace the viruses geometrically from the beams of the Icosahedrons.

Says Borker: “On these stigmatized coal platforms the mineral has been activated, yes…! In the same dioxide, the twenty faces of the icosahedrons, convex or concave. Yes…! The twenty faces of the icosahedrons are equilateral and congruent triangles, equal to each other; the icosahedron is convex and is called regular, being then one of the so-called Platonic solids”

The ranks of Falangists moved triangularly in multiple directions, to reach the Austral del Nótos de Borker, thus they would form the magical vectors of the polyhedron internally, triangulating at the tip of the ram that carries an illustrious triangular phalanx, opening with its prop the areas vulnerable, to consolidate the buttress of the façade; the Áullos Kosmos, and pay homage to the apse that was filled with rejoicing.

Sones of the philosopher Plato made them regular or perfect in convex polyhedral, such that on all their faces regular and equal polygons were made, and in all solid angles also equal. From this boulevard, the theology of Vernarth and Alexander the Great, such a professor and Platonic guide, will follow towards nomenclatures of nano-structures that affirm the volume and structure of the central sections of the radier, and its foundation bases shielded by the icosahedrons in the nanotechnological scale, having physical material cells, for adaptation of structural changes and their environment.

The volume will be adapted microscopically, to analyze small particles with the return of the fourth arrow or Tetra Sagita of Zefian, absorbing nutrients and discarding the environmental threats based on carbon dioxide, to make a limiting membrane beauty, which moderates the nanoparticles that they were developing the borer beetles. The solidity of the partitions and walls will have the exact proportion of the nanomaterials, to adapt to the general area of the Mandragoron Nótos, which will ooze the surpluses due to the porosities, towards a volume highly resistant to invasions of limestone nanomaterials, and boulders that are made from the flow of the buttress of the apse that rises towards Aorion. The interior and exterior faces will be supplements of prayers of Prochoro, in didactics that will shield with the Antiphons Benedictus, and the hive of Plato's Icosahedrons, becoming a consular material organism, and solid in interstices or leftovers from the feces of the Borers, until pasting and to arrive at the volume of the polyhedron, and its twenty faces pointing towards the physiognomy of the boulevard, tracing the general volume of the Mandragoron, and intercommunicating the supporting quantum and its theological harmony.

Borker says: “if organic cells operate in homage and in larger multicellular fields, here are the nanoparticles, in larger fields of fiato, and in the slides that will recirculate in favor of the Mandragoron throat, and in the carbon nanotubes, essential elements of the biosphere and useful layers of life that retrace the rest. There will be 20 linear meters in the area that lavishes the width and height, the projection of this nanotechnology scale, will make a three-dimensional shape and a large voluminous serial in the Austral Nótos.

i could not feel anything but your grassbeats under my fingertips, quicker in the anticipation of neck-snapping.

"i hope you know that we are so very sorry about the accident. there will be measures taken to ensure that nothing like it occurs again. freshly, our extremely sincere apologies."

the curve of bird spines decorated my eyelids, question marks displaying assumptions to the turnablindeye world.

"no, sir, you are the one who is incorrect. the blood you see isn't really there, look at it. look at the transparency of your hallucinations."

october grew three heads and shredded the chunks of grass it ripped from the ground, spreading you as mulch across stranger's flowerbeds.

"three hours ago, a messenger twicely found you screaming and ranting about various invisibilities on separate corners in this very city. can you explain?"

i stood on curbs and spoke for change, spoke through three woolen ideas to the desperately closing ears of people that refused to look quietly at themselves, look at their thoughts without noise.

"no. we have broken you. there are not voices, nor stars, no hexagons spelling curses onto your forehead. look at me! sir, you are undeserving of a name."

ghostings are immensely entertaining things. i hope you'll come on one with me, some time after i ***** my thoughts back into their shoulder-blade space.

Since the omens of Wontehlimar, the linamen before Borker became reigning, for the static balustrade that will surround the Megaron, where all the Ibicos rings will be enlisted chorally by the patronage of the Hellenic orthodox legacy of Alexander the Great after he was rescued by Wonthelimar from Babylon, and finally, take you to your physical and spiritual shelter. The eruv of the Nótos was demarcated, surpassing the limits of the rings of stefánes Íbix, or Hoops of ibix, like nano kvantikoí daktýlioi, Nano-Quantum Ring auguring sensitize the dermis and its carpal phalanges. From the intertestamental, such as in Vóreios, passages from the Old Testament are explored here that says…: “The temple that was the only legitimate sanctuary of the Israelite people contained within it the Ark of the Covenant, a golden altar, and candlesticks of the same metal. , a table with sacred loaves and other utensils used to carry out the worship of the god Yahveh. It was located on the esplanade of Mount Moriá, in the city of Jerusalem, possibly where the Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa Mosque are located ”. From this dome the larnax of the Great Macedonian, apriorism, will derive into the schismatics of ancient Christianity and orthodox Judaism, separating from each other, after the fall of the second temple. Of this class and previously this was detonated due to the undivided troops of the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar II, who destroyed it in 586 BC, also taking captives a large part of the inhabitants of the Kingdom of Judah, to Mesopotamia, giving rise to the exile and captivity of the Hebrews in Babylon. A reflective Borker of this premonition, he takes the Ibics Rings and selects one of them to unite them with the first Zefian Arrow, as nano Kvantikoí Daktýlioi, quantum Nano-ring, to ensue in future similar events, avoiding invasions that cause looting and destruction. of the temple to be built on Patmos. Nano-scales for Borker's nanotechnological conception, and estimates of threats of invasions and climatic changes, in one billion (109) and one billionth (10-9). In a meter there are one billion nanometers or, in other words, a nanometer is one-billionth of a meter. For those who will have to configure the dimensions of the Mandragoron "Temple of Vernarth" with carbon atoms that will forge the support in chemical units for the re-conception of nature, and its two- or three-dimensional networks. Being immanent and masterful, the nanotubes with 60 carbons distributed in 20 hexagons and 12 pentagons, according to the geometric patterns of the cellular scale, in the conformation of the Hexagonal Primogeniture, thus being concealed by the Ibics Rings for each linear meter, and cubic traced by a nanometer which is one-billionth of a meter. Here the borer beetles will catch all the ambrosiella ceratocystidaceae fungi and will displace the virals in a calculated manner from the beams of the Icosahedron.

The ranks of Falangists moved triangularly in multiple directions, to reach the Austral del Nótos de Borker, thus they would form the magical vectors of the polyhedron internally, triangulating at the tip of the ram that carries an illustrious triangular phalanx, opening the areas weak, to consolidate the buttress of the façade; the Áullos Kósmos, and pay homage to the apse that was filled with rejoicing. Sones of the philosopher Plato, made them regular or perfect in convex polyhedra, as in all their faces where regular and equal polygons were made, with holistic solid angles also equal. From this boulevard, the theology of Vernarth and Alexander the Great, fully professor and of Platonic pattern, will follow, making nomenclatures of nanostructures that affirm the volume and structure of the central sections of the radier, and its foundation bases shielded by the icosahedron in the scale nanotechnology, having physical material cells, for adaptation of structural changes and their environment.

The bulk will adapt microscopically, to analyze small particles with the return of the fourth arrow or Tetra Sagita of Zefian, absorbing nutrients and discarding environmental threats based on carbon dioxide, to make a limiting membrane beauty, which moderates the nanoparticles that were developing. borer beetles. The solidity of the partitions and walls will have the exact proportion of the nanomaterials, to adapt to the general area of the Mandragoron Nótos, which will ooze the surpluses due to the porosities, towards a volume highly resistant to invasions of limestone nanomaterials, and stony grounds that will be elaborated from the flow of the buttress of the apse that rose towards Aorion. The interior and exterior faces will be supplements of prayers of Prochoro, in didactics that will shield with the Antiphons Benedictus, and the hive of Plato's Icosahedron, becoming a consular material organism, and solid in interstices or leftovers from the faeces of the Borers, until pasting and reach the volume of the polyhedron, and its twenty faces pointing towards the physiognomy of the boulevard, tracing the general volume of the Mandragoron, and intercommunicating the supporting quantum and its post-Byzantine Greek patristic theological harmony, passing through vectors of time that run through the pre and post of temporality of the Invisible Eclectic Portal, with remarkable poles and penumbras of the contemplative orb as seven steps of liberation, and as a manumission of the wheel of time forward, where Hermes will bind him with serpents to a fiery wheel that will spin without ceasing, stopping the naivete of the 7 donkeys, and their autonomy of self-consciousness, crushing each serpent with their hooves.

Says Borker: “if the organic cells operate with homage and with greater multicellular fields, here are the nanoparticles, in greater fields of fiatto, and in the slides that will recirculate in favor of the Mandragoron throat, and in the essential carbon nanotubes elements of the biosphere and useful layers of life that roll back the rest. There will be 20 linear meters in the area that lavishes the width and height, the projection of this scale of nanotechnology, will make a three-dimensional shape and a great plump serial in the Nótos Austral ”Vernarth's purging dimension, made him materialize at times and laugh out loud because he knew that everyone who was with him loved him! , and from this fraction of faith, the Angel Raphael diagnoses them bread with archangelic essence; herb with great healing powers, especially in the dimension of the eclectic portal that allowed Vernarth to concern himself with material living beings.

Definitely the second step of consolidation of the Megaron was established in the linear from the seven donkeys eagerly left it, as likely masons and cabinetmakers who worked together with the Hexagonal Primogeniture. From this moment everything begins to have an inter-dimensional aspect, from the Invisible Eclectic Portal to the majestic geodesy and orography of this temple, which incorporated everyone for a charitable epiphany together with everyone in the Profitis Ilias, which was already crowned as the cusp Spiritual World of the Vernarthian Eclectic.

It’s probably not that you were awesome
(but you were)
It’s probably not that it was worth it
(but it was)
It’s not even that you deserved it
(but you did)
It’s that your words became an apiary
And all my bees built honeycombs with the curves of your face
Now your words no longer come
nor does your smile grace me
The sweet honey has drained into the jars of my heart
And I’ve tried to forget you
but the syrup on my tongue remembers you
it puddles into the hexagons of your name
whispering like bees wings





I strengthen myself with sugar
and beeswax feeds my flame
that I harvested on a day my feelings decided to dance around you
like bees they nestled in your flowers
How long will I eat of your honey?
How long will your sweetness remain in my memory?

A glorious fruit
        Hanging casually on a branch

Split from the navel to the jaws
        Blood red insides exposed to the open air

Extended Hexagons packed in tight
        Layered with skin around skin around skin

Separate little cubicles
Filled with chemicals
That change lives

And sometimes
       The lives of birds

(They pecked into my pomegranate)

Ants and growth and decay and filth
         Swarm the ****** wound with unbelievable skill
                          And understanding

I choose to not let this one go back to the earth quite yet
         Some would say I’m a hippie like that

Quickly carried to the operating room
        (The kitchen)
Slammed on the operating table
        (The cutting board)
First incision made
        (Broke in half)

Guts
         Spill
                  Everywhere

But deep inside
        Surrounded by the ants and growth and decay
                 And filth

The most glorious Rubies
Packed with care and understanding

Nature never ceases to amaze
       Its capability to produce such pure
                Uncontaminated raw potential
                        In an environment of such decay

I suppose we do have a chance.

Dancing forms – wings askew
Balancing on one foot or flying?
Pipes or lutes?
Heads bowed to the music
Or to see the love drops
Floating?

The geodesic dome
Grows from the foliage
The silver hexagons over a
Glass biome – layering,
Mating
From within the prickly pines.

The love drops – like candy liquid,
Oranges and reds and yellows
All for the girls.
They’re eaten so quickly.

Only a few blue for the boys.
The boys would rather climb
The glass surface gripping tightly
To the steel pipes
Then jump hard – diving
Into the shallow pool – hoping
To gobble up a little girl
Before she tastes Love.

Pan laughs and plays his pipe
Watching the children play.

This man has a gun pointed at me,
that extends from thumb to index in an L,
at me from his hip.
I can't see much through
my hand. Reflexive, if dampened
by a gristle of curiosity.
Weight shifts from foot
to toe to ball to other
foot. He doesn't speak
to me; to the floor,
but his gesture comes at me
through the atmosphere or
whatever analogous high ground he possesses.

The tip of the pink barrel
menaces like a treble scream
or a broken blackboard.

Shift. Shift and a look around.
It must be done quickly, he
looks at her to ask permission.
I imagine her too cold
for response: atoms
held in hexagons to keep
that inevitable crack from
toppling the salty gravity.
However they must speak
through the superaudible
for her stolid fluidity
resolves his change
(changes his resolve)
and his eyes stop dead on
me.

The laughter of that trigger
rustles through skin
and plays with bone.

Tick

I yawn to the alarm
I drag my feet to shower
I tug on matching clothes.

Tick.

I scarf down plain cereal
Find socks, then put them on;
Cover with scuffed shoes, and I am done.

Tick.

Ihear the whirring of my engine; Soon
I park, I walk in,
I pretend to learn, I wanderlessly walk out.

Tick.

I stop at the red hexagons
Iwork five hours straight,
I go home to rest on my pillow

Tomorrow's the same day.

I am seer of thine in Abernathy
but squarely this divineness fore
my essence will describe
with maturation on my side whether
or not this dither fantasize will deduce gold hexagons
that mix a feather awhile and let dolce vita thrive
a supremely superb undulance in ubiquity here.

and as i tap on my keyboard making noises unspeakable i notice that
somewhere between the Y and the I is a U, and I wonder why apple would set up such a cliché
a metaphor I would want to use in times like this where my writing is vulnerable and uncouth
i can’t even be angry with you, against you pressing on your V line since
i knew the movie was bad
i mean i just knew it as soon as the VCR ****** in the thick, boxy, tape
that this film was going to be just like the others— immature and messy,
you were unable to articulate the simplest of my sentences

insert line here

you didn’t even look new, you weren't even an opportunity
you told me you were willing to be the elevated beam in my single music note that we would create harmonies even my mother would like to hear
but she hated you
and you didn’t understand why I liked Bach more than Mozart, or why I didn’t like Mozart at all
you weren't a gentleman, but I am beginning to think those don't exist until well into our 30s
when our hearts are tender enough to feel empathy
you don’t deserve a poem, or the image of heaven

the capital letters you rained in my text messages made my eyes open a little bit wider
i went to cvs and i bought the twix the blanket and the *****
we used to do that together
asian men still write me poems for the morning, i walk out of dorm rooms with water that never knew the cold
and my head it; pounds from dehydration, its been a while since I’ve been in love
but some us are
in love i mean
the dumb ones, the despicable ones
how are they achieving something the kids with 4.0 gpa’s couldn't make an equation for

insert lines here

and why the hell do i keep looking at my phone, waiting for your name to shine bright telling me what to do what to say

insert lines here

why did you sleep with her, on her, side by side, parallel making hexagons and trapezoids keeping me out of the loop
why did i say ok

1.
the walls are built of shapes
triangles and circles and hexagons that do not
fit together
like we once did

we are these mislaid figures now

2.
the moon comes out at dark
but when I feel dark
I will not come out of my room

3.
the oilcloth catches my tears now because
you are too busy
to notice that they fall

it is like I am trying to hide
the weather

give a big umbrella to clouds in the sky

4.
the veins are taunting me
again

5.
the password to my email
is the last syllable of your first name
how average of me to want to **** myself and
keep talking from underground

6.
can I still apologize for holding your
heart hostage
as a dead-girl walking

Carrying an in-built GPS
Dancing to the suns direction

*** with pollen, honey
Its a way of life. You try

Jumping on a super fat slug
wiggling her body parts, laying

millions of little wonders
soaked in nectary hexagons.

That's my privilege
perversely pollinating

thousands and a queen mother
all in a days taking.

You watching. Cannot even dream
such luxury and for safekeeping

an arsenal exists on my reverse.
for those who question integrity.

Author Notes

Couldn't b said better.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.

dry hexagons sometimes pop

their honeyed cysts.

discarding paper mache masks,

cursedly cratered on forest trails.

to redraft the barbed crosshatching

of stingers.

huddled to the ****** warmth of

their queen, who winters responsively

to the name: Morta.

The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil and the Tree of Life

Dear friends, I write to you today with a clear intention to express aspects of my beliefs and how I apply them to life. I hope that as you read through this, you will see the time I took to gather my ideas and explain them as clearly as possible. I also hope you approach it with an open mind, taking time with the hope of spiritual and stoic gain. I write to you in trust of opinion and conversation. It is important to constantly and persistently seek wisdom, and it is imperative that the freedom we find be shared—because freedom is the gospel, the “good news.”

In this letter, I will discuss my views on the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, being present, faith, God within ourselves and everything around us, the kingdom of heaven, the tree of life, gratitude, and wisdom. I am not a writer or a teacher, so bear with me, as this is my first letter and I have never attempted something like this before.

Now, let’s begin.

“You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.”
—Marcus Aurelius

Throughout my life, I have experienced the flux of having nothing and the ability to feel established with possessions. During times of having little to literally nothing (whether I was living off the land in Utah or locked up in Greensboro jail—and many other moments in time)—those were the times I felt closest to Truth.

Side note: In this letter, I will refer to “God” as “Truth,” since each one of us finds our own God as its truth.

It wasn’t merely the fact that I had nothing that made me feel this way, but rather it was after I allowed myself to be grateful for what I had and found true happiness in the small things throughout the day. These are two things that I believe are necessary for any “relationship” with Truth. I will break these two down as:                       1. Being present.              
2. True gratitude.

This is the foundation.

1. Being Present

Being present is crucial because, without presence, a divide and disconnect form between you and Truth. This practice is emphasized in nearly every ancient religion and is one of the main teachings I believe Jesus was trying to convey. Biblically, this concept traces back to Adam and Eve when they ate from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil—a topic I will explore further in this letter. There is power in being truly present, just as there is a divide when we disconnect.

When I consider what being truly present means to me, I find it to be a simple yet profound challenge. It is about giving my full attention to the present moment and finding joy in simply being. For example, if I am present while getting ready for work in the morning, I am not dwelling on yesterday or anticipating the day ahead. Instead, I find gratitude in the clean socks I put on, along with each article of clothing that follows. Any interruptions, I embrace. I stay attentive to my senses, aware that things like the weather, unexpected traffic, and other inconveniences are beyond my control—and thus, they hold no power over my mood. When I am truly present, I experience a steady sense of joy, a constant happiness. The longer I maintain this joy and focus on the moment, the easier it becomes to release the past and let go of worries about the future.

We are quick to be distracted, allowing our minds to wander to the past or race ahead to the future. We dwell on unfinished tasks, wondering whether time will slip away before we accomplish them. But this disconnection separates us from Truth, leaving us trapped in anxiety and depression—worried about the future and mourning what’s left behind. If that isn’t the purpose of life, why do we all fall into it? Let go of everything but the now, and begin by focusing on your breath. If you can feel the tingling in your toes, the texture of your shirt against your skin, or the sounds around you—these simple awareness exercises have helped me become more conscious, and I recommend them to anyone seeking presence.

In the Bible, Jesus speaks frequently about being present and how to achieve it. In Luke 17:20-21, it says:

“Being asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, he answered them, ‘The kingdom of God is not coming in ways that can be observed, nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There!’ For behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you.’”

In Proverbs 22:4, it says:

“The reward for humility and fear of the Lord is riches, honor, and life.”

To me, throughout both the Old and New Testaments, the “fear of God” represents reverence. When we are truly present, we recognize that Truth exists within us and in all living things—it is the same energy. When we bask in the sheer wonder of this Truth—the force that spins the earth, forms honeycombs into hexagons, enables hummingbirds to fly, causes flowers to bloom in breathtaking colors, and moves the tides—we find ourselves in the kingdom of heaven in each moment. If we revere a higher Truth, we must also revere our own being as part of that Truth, made of the same divine energy.

This idea extends beyond Christianity. In Buddhism (Lankavatara Sutra 1:6), it is written:

“Look within, thou art the Buddha.”

In Hinduism, it is said:

“In the cave of the heart, that is where the divine dwells.”

In Islam (Qur’an 50:16), it states:

“God is closer to you than your jugular vein.”

Side note: I also believe there is a connection between Wisdom/Holy Spirit and our DNA. That may or may not be discussed later in this letter.

If the Truth within us is the same Truth that creates, then we must honor each moment, knowing it surrounds and fills us. We are made for more. We possess greater power than we are led to believe—the power to create. This is the power to shape our lives into the kingdom of heaven. Anything is possible when we recognize the Truth within us.

How incredible is it that the same energy that moves the universe also moves within us? Yet most people remain unaware of their true power. Be grateful for this gift, and be grateful that we share it with everything around us—because it is everything around us that shapes our kingdom of heaven.

Which leads me to my next point.

2. Gratitude
. I find that gratitude and being present often go hand in hand. I don’t think one can be truly present without gratitude, but one can be grateful without being present. The power of gratitude is one of the most profound experiences I continuously live in. As I mentioned earlier, I have found these truths most evident during my lowest moments—prevailing while living alone off the land in Utah and while being locked up in North Carolina without a release date in sight. I will share these two stories now.

UTAH

There was a time in my life when I found myself on a mountaintop in southern Utah, willingly living off the land with very few possessions. Living alone in the middle of the woods became more isolating and challenging than expected. During this time of discomfort, I had no choice but to stay present. Each day, I caught my own food, gathered firewood, and collected fresh drinking water—tasks that took far more time than one would think, especially while trapping and fishing. I had to remain fully aware and engaged with everything around me, staying present at all times.

When I first ran out of money and had to figure out ways to eat, I would walk around a large pond with a running stream, searching for old fishing wire and anything else useful for catching food. I strung together pieces of fishing wire and used rusty hooks and lures that had been snagged in trees and left behind. With this makeshift equipment, I cast out by hand—facing trial after trial, with more error than success. Attempting to catch food on an empty stomach for days was frustrating and exhausting, but I knew that crying about it wouldn’t help, and quitting wouldn’t feed me.

Then, one day, after countless failed attempts, I cast my line and actually caught a fish. The excitement and gratitude I felt were overwhelming—I was caught off guard by the sheer joy of it. You’ve never seen someone make a fire so fast. That fish, my efforts, and the moment itself filled me with an indescribable sense of gratitude. Later on, a man who often fly-fished near my camp noticed my struggle. I would ask him questions about trapping, fishing, and tanning. One day, he found and gave me a broken children’s fishing pole. I cried with gratitude. The more grateful I became for everything, the more I received.

NORTH CAROLINA

There was another time in my life when I found myself in a jail cell in Greensboro, NC, with no idea when I would be released. The first month was the hardest because I still held onto the hope of getting out quickly and being able to protect the life I had built. But there was no foreseeable release date. Each time my court date arrived, it was postponed for another month, leaving me in an agonizing state of uncertainty.

That first month, I lost my job, the house I was living in, my dog, my girlfriend, most of my possessions, my truck, and even my sentimental books and poetry I had written. It was excruciating to be locked up, powerless to control anything outside. One by one, I watched everything I had slip away.

Then, one day, after praying for help, I was granted peace and clarity. I saw my situation for what it was and found gratitude in things most people wouldn’t understand. Let me state this clearly: If you can be held against your will with no sight of freedom, stripped of your possessions and rights, and still find gratitude, then you can find gratitude anywhere.

Almost every day since then, as I step outside and take my first breath of fresh air in the morning, I am overwhelmingly grateful for the simple ability to breathe freely whenever I choose. We take so much for granted. Our car rides in traffic, our bills—things we often see as daily annoyances—all hold reasons to be grateful. It’s not hard to see if you look.

Once I gained clarity and gratitude, my entire experience changed. Even my daily demeanor became lighter and happier. When a person finds security in themselves without needing external possessions, they find true freedom. When they become grateful for life itself, they find true wealth.

These two stories may not seem significant. Maybe all you see is a broken fishing pole and smiles in jail. But it was more than that—it was what happened inside of me. It was the transformation that followed through the practice of gratitude. As you know, my life has been full of ups and downs—my lows being “really low” and my highs being merely “average” until recent years. My lowest moments took me to depths most people never reach, but my ability to rise again was solely due to my practice of gratitude.

The First Step Toward Truth: Gratitude

The first step toward true reverence for Truth—or what the Bible calls “the fear of God”—is gratitude. How could I claim to honor an omnipotent energy that flows through me and every living thing if I can’t even find joy and gratitude in what I already have? Even if all I had was the world itself—the sun, the weather, the plants and animals, the structures we’ve built, and the minds that created them—I would still have reason to be grateful.

Reverence, my friends. Being present, grateful, and in awe of the Truth around us elevates our energy and shifts our vibrations to higher levels. I cannot overstate the importance of genuine gratitude in all circumstances. In hard times, stay grateful and faithful. In good times, stay grateful and humble.

1 Thessalonians 5:18
“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”

Gratitude is emphasized throughout the Bible and other ancient texts. Jesus gave thanks before every miracle—an example of how gratitude works. Gratitude and faith breathe life into the unimaginable. Buddha’s teachings often spoke of contentment as the key to happiness.

There are what I like to call “Spiritual Truths” or “spiritual axioms.” When applied, these truths connect us with our inner selves and produce good fruit. Faith, gratitude, manifestation, prayer, meditation, presence, seeking wisdom, and truth—these spiritual axioms allow us to tap into the energy flowing within and around us. They work because they reconnect us with the Truth, bringing us closer to the state of being we had before Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.

Our Separation from Truth Now

The stories of Adam and Eve, The Epic of Gilgamesh, the Tree of Knowledge in Zoroastrianism, and other ancient texts and mythologies (loosely based on similar themes) all teach about the disconnect between Truth and humanity.

In the biblical story of Adam and Eve, God (YHWH Elohim) created Adam from dust and Eve from Adam’s rib, and they lived in a garden east of Eden. The only rule was not to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, or they would “surely die” (I find it interesting that there was no restriction on the Tree of Life or any stated consequence for eating from it).

Adam and Eve were content (as one would expect) to be living in paradise with God, but a serpent found Eve alone one day and told her, “For God knows that when you eat of it, your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” She ate the fruit and then gave some to Adam.

Later, as God walked through the garden, He called for them. Adam finally emerged and admitted he was ashamed because he was naked. God asked, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?” After this, Adam and Eve were clothed in skins and banished from the Garden. God then said, “Behold, the man has become like one of us, knowing good and evil… lest he reach out his hand and take also from the Tree of Life and eat and live forever—” and placed a cherubim with a flaming sword east of Eden to guard the way to the Tree of Life.

Side note: There is a lot more to unpack in that story, but I will save it for another letter.

Whether you take the story as historical or symbolic, I believe it speaks to the disconnect that exists within us. Truth is all things, as it created all things. When humanity ate from the Tree of Knowledge, we lost our natural faith, replacing it with intellectual knowledge and emotional duality rather than a state of pure contentment. This is where jealousy, greed, envy, and lust originate. Circumstances, people, and emotions now influence us in ways that make us feel disconnected from our natural state. These feelings create separation—but gratitude and presence counteract that energy, bringing us closer to oneness with Truth.

However, being present and grateful must be applied in all situations, not just when life is “going your way.” During times of tribulation and calamity, we must remain thankful and joyful. When our will is aligned with Truth, every hardship becomes a lesson, and everything ultimately works out for the best. I have practiced this principle for almost a decade, and it has brought me immense peace and prosperity. The more I see it work in my life, the stronger my faith becomes—faith that we are capable of supernatural things, faith in the power of energy, and faith in the unseen forces that shape our reality.

Practicing gratitude and presence alone is beneficial, but it pales in comparison to when these are combined with faith. Faith is another spiritual axiom that does not require belief in a deity to function. Even biblically, a lack of faith in some people could hinder faith from working in others—Jesus could not perform miracles in His hometown of Nazareth because of the people’s disbelief.

Faith is one of the most powerful forces we can wield, and how we use it is even more important. Jesus used the analogy of faith as small as a mustard seed being able to move mountains (Matthew 17:20) or uproot a mulberry tree (Luke 17:6). Other religions and philosophies also emphasize its importance. Buddhism teaches that even the smallest thought or action, when infused with faith, can lead to great transformation. In Hinduism, the Bhagavad Gita speaks of unshakable trust in divine guidance. The Islamic Quran emphasizes trust in divine will. Faith is essential for divine fruit to ripen.

Most people put their faith in a god, in themselves, or in their ambitions, desires, and abilities. But I believe that the same DNA that was present at the beginning of time—the image of Elohim (the Creator)—is the same DNA that exists within us. This means I have faith in the energy that flows through me, vibrates all around me, and ultimately shapes the life I desire.

There is a lot to unpack in those last few sentences, so before I go deeper into an explanation, let me first state that by no means do I claim to have all the answers. I am simply seeking Truth wherever it may be and sharing with you what I believe to be true and what I am searching for. With that being said, I quote Alan Watts and continue:

“You are under no obligation to be the same person you were five minutes ago.”

Through my own studies, I believe in the existence of multiple god-like figures and supernatural beings. Christians call them angels, cherubim, and the Holy Spirit, but I believe that Elohim, the Creator, used His own DNA along with a man-like being to create the humanity we know today. I think that, in the beginning, there were multiple creators, which is why Nephilim, giants, and cyclopes are mentioned in the Bible and found in historical accounts.

With God’s DNA as our own—our genetic code continuing and remaining throughout time—our bodies carry the history of existence and a power greater than we realize. I also believe this is what Jesus was trying to tell us: the power of God lies within us, within our energy.

At the smallest level of our being, beyond atoms, are quarks and electrons. Quarks combine through nuclear force to create protons for the nucleus of an atom, while electrons orbit the nucleus, forming structure through electrical, chemical, and bonding forces. The tiniest parts of us are pure energy—no different from the energy in the trees—yet something in our DNA sets us apart from the plants and animals of this world.

To be a child of God could very well mean to be a literal descendant of God. Why do you think manifestation, self-healing, and similar practices work for so many so-called “non-believers”? It is because the power has always been within us. What stops us is the weight of the past, the uncertainty of the future, and our inability to remain present, grateful, and in constant faith.

When you do what feels right in your soul—whether as a parent, a spouse, an employee, a boss, or in how you spend your time and treat others—you are aligned with God’s will. Everything else will fall into place, working out better than you could ever imagine, because the essence of creation flows through your very being and understands the present more deeply than we can comprehend.

Consider this in the way Christians view “praying in tongues” (which differs from the “gift of tongues”). Many Christians believe that when they pray in tongues, they speak a divinely inspired language of unknown sounds and words—spoken through them by God. Since God knows their needs better than they do, He speaks through them to Himself in a language only He understands, allowing them to pray in alignment with His will.

This same principle applies to the belief that the “likeness” or “image” of God is within us and always has been. When we recognize that we carry the power of being literal children of God, our lives begin to reflect the “kingdom of Heaven.” As Jesus said in Luke, “Behold, the kingdom of God is in your midst.”

The energy we put out—because of what we are made of—shapes our lives, heals our sicknesses, and creates miracles.
• Faith (what we believe, think, say, act upon, and expect) is that energy.
• Being present and grateful directs and aligns that energy.
• God is in our DNA.

“Doubt is a question mark; faith is an exclamation point. The most interesting things in life are behind the question mark.” — Osho

In conclusion, I believe that while the Bible and other scriptures contain valuable knowledge, they have been tampered with and altered, misleading people from the full truth. I believe much of it is true, but the core message has been distorted. In Matthew, it says, “… Small is the gate and narrow is the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.”

Christianity makes up 31% of the world’s population, making it the largest religion. But if the gate is narrow, how can that be? My truth is bigger than any book—it flows through my body. When I am present, grateful, and faithful, my life aligns in divine ways.

Side note: Dr. Joe Dispenza’s book Becoming Supernatural presents scientific research and studies demonstrating how energy and vibrations attract and heal in profound ways through presence, gratitude, and faith. If you’re interested, I encourage you to look into it further.

I didn’t write this letter to claim that I have life figured out. I wrote it to share what I stand on and where my heart is. Practicing these principles not only brings success in life but also strengthens my character—cultivating positivity, patience, kindness, discipline, respect, humility, and so many other values that guide my path.

I hope this letter speaks to you and that you find peace in what I’ve shared.

Sincerely, Gordon Curry

The bay of Patmos brightened in the scaphoid Trinitarians of the Colosso de Apsila, the combustion of the alma matter constituted Solomonic vademecum until the rebirth of those who preserve their sclera that accompanies their cruel torments in muscles of passion, for those who prostrate and recline on the pain that the soul itself asks to alleviate morbidities in the hay that grows when nothing rises before the tragedy of the pious fragments that divide the heart of a Sufi. Everything pretends that it is religious epilepsy bubbling vapor of faith through the mouths of the gods when illegible gestures of stars shine through from others that are greater in light and form when chaos was first, and the darkness became entangled in chaotic truthfulness of what converts the sacramental guarded by the angel Iblis. Judas Iscariot was a hybrid to dissent from Asmodeus, taking him from those fates of the firmament that had six apices, thus enrapturing him of the Siblis who had gone into exile in the caravans of Morocco, then falling from the despotic saying that shook the heads of the Achaemenids indicating anticipated conversions of unbelievers, when seeing that the six vertices of the first star of subjugation were declared, coming behind the second-star splint that was made up of other hexagons taking out ruinous cults that lay in the infertility of skepticism, not tolerating interpositions in any other way. Everything indicated that the light of the Shamesh of the Ruach Hakodesh in the roadstead of Patmos could already be asserted so that all the fires of the fertility of the Holy Spirit waving a loud voice that raises the worlds in the ablutions of the effluvium, with the emissions of Delphi, and with the lightning bolts of Zeus that would be encased in the scapulae of the Colosso de Apsila, silencing the delirium that only spoke out loud in those who did not know more than to hear in another sense, that avoids subsistence and where it grants more sap.

The Siblis says: “with my hands, I take what remains of life, and what will remain I will put under my comforts where everything will speak with withered corners of the lullaby, and of what the asylum of what it despises. Thus, everything that comes before the fourths happens to the fifths, and I subtract them from my hell, Iblis. The deities are withdrawn and the almighty is constrained further from the clouds that shelter the consciousness of the burning, and from the rays that exceed a thousand volts and more lights with large megawatts over the wings of the body that will experience growth, when it is a dream may he remain alive on the one who is at odds and is knocked down by his gesture of triumph that never annihilates, he only hangs on the body that is defeated "
The high tide was decomposing in degraded red blood cells, strangling bodies that were banned from their automaton skeletons, and from what was sacrosanct of Allah, which was also of the Mashiach, making a refuge that would make bones rest for more than thousands of years that did not rest. In the forging of a bronze frame, leaving every paradigm to the patronage of the amulet for anyone who suffers merciful debasement of the talus, beginning to flare up in the fords of capsular phototropism, leaving on them springs that cause and fill hearts that do not pulse, but if after an acquiescent nucleus of the rarest corporal alive or not! Praising what he writes by himself when for thousands of years everything has separated us instead of joining the immense room called Megaron Áullos Kósmos, eminent, free of all symptoms where impudent politai paraded through the flattened flowers that mix monstrosity of their cheers and the strings that surround him elliptical from the perihelion far and reviled and dangerous preventive. What exceeds the stature symbolizes the wrought iron that in a series of thousands becomes siege weapons instead of farming, and what the high sword invests leaves its merit when it discovers the weapon of punishment, cut off in deaths that are crossed when revived. from the same edge of the converted spirit of the one who wields it. The pairs of symbolisms protect almost depopulated those who have dwellings in paradise, with bent consciences that ****** Xiphos of conversion into staves of a mortuary color, which mutilates the mezzanines that are typical of a black cane exiting the human figure. The ruins produce architectural syncope that concerns the ineptitude of the castrated humanity of the Berith Milah, as a baptism of ancestry and circumcision slicing courses of arteries that fragment hemispheres of reason to found adherence to who really lives in you ..., if Hanael or another who has always been livid in you without becoming fatigued at the disposition of calling you a degraded son, materializing spiritually and becoming symptomatic of prevalent shocks by having them exulted by ancestral kindnesses.

The resentment caused planetary rumblings and extreme unfolding that sprouted from the exact diameter of its joints, leaving the grasses connected to neurosciences that slaughtered at dawn, and collected the expiation of what it is not capable of resisting in its faded sacrosanct body when all they were going through the drain of Judas Iscariot. Reflecting majolica and boches encrypted in themselves, withdrawing from the incense, from Hellenics who have never stopped beheading spheres that doze in the oasis where the water seeps through meadows that fill creek beds, apriorism of infusions that are injected where the meadow do not flee! Patmia was the silence of the tabernacle superior to the sizes that annul all composure in the cusp and in the spaciousness, and if it were to be seen like this, syllables would be limited that they uttered their only cheers that agonized at the side of their enemy, gracing them with the pain celebrated in courtship linguistics in its parallel.

Judas thinks: “In the next dawn everything seemed as if the world had just begun to be reborn, the whole world appears as the greatest satisfaction in the world. Some wondered what had happened or what it was that transformed everything when they observed from afar when an image came that pretended to be further away from the whole world, encompassing the realms of abstraction. They are the hearts that beat far away and they think that the strong reason is supported by the stratum by orpheons of angels, where the Master does not bother to teach us that great dreams are always accompanied by great beats "