Deolation Sermon vol. 4: Nexus Variants

Break

Sit in simplicity behind the freedom of choice as this is not where you could be, but are anyway to bide time inside the idea of the self determination you had hoped to see. Layering slowly a CV longer than psychological dependency on being more than a database key floating on magnetic tapes hundreds mile away in bunkers designed to survive longer than this race. Wouldn’t you want a little more?

If blasphemously asking the questions: “what else?” is your motto, maybe you’re willing to be happy with what is after all. To understand the fundamental alterations of the code we assumed was cracked, but experimentation was never granted ethical continuity. Bless your heart child, you’ve seen hell, and its not for you, come see where the confusion might lead you.
Smell mornings of regret, as sleep is lacked are supplemented without forcing tension as caffeine drips are simpler, with the roasted mud comfort of diuretic reminders of chemical dependencies. Don’t feel bad, coffee is the best, external dependencies are easily held onto hands of comforting high voltage charge or neurotransmitters explosions attempting to hold true through panicking from wasting civilized energies.
To commutes riding a pretentiousness of having what others seem to lack, from belief that self determination was the qualifying factor to lifetimes lived for the lives of others. Sitting behind desks, and gossiping for simplicity of happiness through grape vines office IM clients, with giant emoji lists, giving those permissions to user to end the lack of emotional banality in email exchange.
Ask silently if revisionist history is the worst thing as any dream of a better world, cause it is now the noose around another’s neck as the ones being lived is better than the next person’s so why mess with a formulation of tried and true financial attributes. Probably because alarms have been going off so long, that the background dullness of its urgency bleeds into those still willing to accept the pain all together without knowing what to expect. Yet who is anyone to judge the criterion by which everyone was given a leg up or a knuckle dusted punch to the gut, asking the truly pointless question of assigning worth to what might actually be something.
You’re humans goddammit, a thousand million pardons for taking the All Mighty’s name in vain, yet, where are you lost to normalcies indelibly silent rage. Where times commodity is valued in quantum conservatism holding onto silence for the worthless tendencies of the bureaucracies lived and feared, tell us how you fear the unknown.
How do you fear anything that isn’t made of dust and bone, as entropy opens and closes the infinite doors of a trillion star bits hemming existing through the patchwork sense of belonging grounded in impressing ones self. Hypocrisy is a powerful entity that leans into hopes of being free with the caveat of presumed esteem. Fall off your equestrian dreams, move the fuck away from them, look at them, will they survive the apocalypse? Pass your happiness test of having enough, feeling fulfilled by understanding that one is a symbol, like two, that multiplied zeros and quantifiable memories are only good enough to feed baseless shrewd multinational think tanks designed wholly by one or two hoping you’ll fixate the wavelengths of cones and rods upon their constructed stars of undeliverable expectation.
Feel the desolation, the constant obliteration of the fury of life inside the venter or cardiac space, assimilating black thoughts fed from tried methods of words built go poke holes in truths one should always know. Flail in the pity of not knowing that you’re okay, things might be bad but their freedom to be so is a wonderful thing, tis the :
Way of the world
The bliss of being
The furthest from untruths
Sense filled consummation
Entropy of random reality
Everything in its right place
Forgiveness in a glace to the Inconsistencies of blindness
Falling into time crossed tempos lost to past ages
Reverberations bouncing slowly to key into melodies of the soul

They know go well to believe anything will ever change, since change is an impossibility to fit the butt hurt captains of enterprise data siege. Same way entertainment knows better than itself to ensure trust amongst the groups of millions or billions take the plunge into one minds manipulated derricks drilling to the deep crust, extracting primal fluids to garner loyal vestiges hoping to fill us all up. Isometric viewing angles observing the rat race to the cyclical tunnels dug into by tell tale heart strings tugged in sensory freedom, afraid to admit any wrong.
This will do maybe one good thing, remind a fool where they might be, right now in front of a keyboard as Gods breathe fills me, expanding side by side with the version who’d want to be somebody happy in helping others achieve a simple dream of goals lived within this existence. But where to begin?
A Decision, to admit that forgiveness is where it will begin, as the Nexus of of old absorbs everything there once was in the high tide of given opportunity.
Take not the words of a madman, lost in the throws of misrepresented love in historical hope for a better tomorrow, grounded in understanding of the majesty of playing fair. Believe not words as they flow quickly upon paper and data bits, they mean not to guide but shepherd your thoughts away from believing everything is law. Swim in the bliss of uncharted waters, unafraid of the lessons not learned from mistakes currents swaying on all sides.
Start somewhere, somewhere terrible, is still somewhere, placing steps on stepping stones of metaphors covered in moss of interpretation, you will slip and fall, but it will not end, put on you’re shoes just keep walking, as mud covered and slimy it might all seem.
Heed no warnings told through the filter of tomorrow, yesterday is so far away, and today is nearly gone, Hoyle road looking for enlightenment.

Go. In Peace.

You’re funny Brain

Sometimes I attempt to explain how my mind works. It usually comes out as incoherent psychobabble, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing but being as its rather unreadable,it would seem inappropriate to expose anyone not as privy to my insanity to decipher such porridge.

I laugh sometimes, its the only thing really left to do, when you’re mind doesn’t want to stop. When its thought patterns and neural links are so codified to some degree that I’m¬†unable to see what’s right in front of me because everything that came before as well as ever after, would be conjured up as a means to tell a greater tale than that which is in front of me.

The old adage goes: “The grass is always greener on the other side.” I feel as though that statement could be the guiding light that governs my mental processes. For a long stretch of my life, a statement like that made sense. I couldn’t do anything but look forward, and work through everything, because it was the only game in town.

There was not reminiscing about happy memories, because they only reminded me of where I was then. There was no going to work because i wanted to, until there was something worthwhile to do at the store, or whatever job worked over the years. There was none of this because in my mind, I was doing what I had to do, and the grass was going to be greener on the other side. What did that mean to me until i turned the ripe old age of 23? “Nothing is going to get better, just keep going, keep fighting. ” And that’s how it went

So I lived a life, forgoing everything. Like seriously, all of the things. I didn’t live my life, I was on auto-pilot for the burned out. I was accepting things as they came in my life, and I was content with this idea that money would eventually buy my understanding of the world that I had to neglect. The one where I could be what most would call their lives, something that I wasn’t fully aware of because I’d been so systematically conditioned not to feel what my life was. Not to have a wonderful adventure but a cautious stream of affirmations that just continued to happen, with no end in sight for me, and that didn’t bother me until I got this strange feeling.

Now my gut is pretty good at letting me know about what’s up, and six months after breaking my back and questioning a lot of things, I finally realized it was saying something I should probably pay attention to. It was saying, “mother fucker,Stop!”

Its a funny thing, when you feel like you’re brain is on the brink of collapsing on itself because you’ve dug yourself into so many logic problems with everything in your life that it all seems so bleak and futile, It was incredibly fascinating that something I considered myself, was something I didn’t agree with, and as such why couldn’t I just change it? It was something I hadn’t noticed at all until it crept up on me at times when I was attempting new things. I wasn’t just doing them, I was trying to instantly be as good as I could at them, because that’s what I knew how to do, assimilate into most any situation. Adapt and die or as I like to call it. I had learned this through years of watching others literally never being grateful for what they had or where they were, which tended to make me confused as to why that was.Turns out I ended up doing the same thing.

I had managed to fill my mind with all the information I could fit in it in order to make sure I was ready for anything that could happen. Why the fuck was I attempting to overwhelm myself? In case a game of life or death jeopardy broke out, where the stakes were everything and my brain was the only thing I could think would keep me from my untimely demise, that I had so will fully accepted years prior (that’s a different conversation all together). This system of retention and regurgitation, because that’s what I knew everyone wanted was one of the first things I’d noticed was off. I wasn’t learning to see the world, I was learning just to keep the data stores up. I had managed to turn everything I’d done into an information gathering exercise, that inevitably killed any interest I had in anything because I was once more, doing as I had always done.

So I laughed, this was ¬†before realizing the fundamental problem, and I laughed a lot. Mainly because of err, substances, but also because I found it so hard to stop this compulsion that did nothing but constantly think and retain and attempt to understand any and every situation. Life had molded me, and as it turned out, I hadn’t really learned beyond how things worked, and even that was a basic understanding at best.

So I broke myself… a bunch.

At first it was just a basic understanding of what home meant (see previous post), but because I was so lost in thinking about where I belonged i never stopped to ask for what it was, I searching for?

Was it the ultimate answer to all things?

Neatly defined in a package that resembled the appearance of that of falling star, I gave up looking for that after I read Feynman.

Next I tried to re- organize and relabel everything in my mind to refocus what I thought I wanted to focus on. It was a like a five year old with a sack of sand attached the them, waking in circles attempting to clean up the mess they were making from inadvertently creating a hole in the bag. It was futile. I ended up falling to a depressive state that repeatedly told me I was shit at organizing. It wasn’t a fun time.

So I kept laughing, realizing that my mind was fickle being, with so many safeguards to ensure that I couldn’t attempt to fuck with it quick. I just stare and laugh these days. I just look at it like the greatest well of knowledge ever, but it occasionally likes to flood when I try to grab too much too quick, and spill all over the place. Its the cause of, pretty much any strife I’ve perceptively acknowledged. Literally every “problem” I’ve thought I’ve had has been because my mind was trying too hard, and playing a dangerous game of “How fast, and how far before he crashes?”

So I meditate, Medicate, and wake up everyday believing that my mind might shut up. So that it might give me a 20 minute period where I don’t know how to out myself because I’ve analyzed my surroundings enough to tell. I mean as much as this isn’t a laughing matter, its still hilarious every time I managed to realize what’s happening. Just because I grew into a mind that wasn’t designed to be going all the time, doesn’t mean its not my greatest asset, its just gets a little pointless sometimes. Sometimes.

So I laugh and hope that one day, I can slow down enough to teach these turtles the wonders of arts and possibly crafting. I know it’s not easy, seeing as they lack opposable thumbs and all, but this patience thing is a new-ish concept to me… i think I’ll try that.

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