faces faces within and without many that make up me and us together we are one and many the minds in a single mind personal communal coming together splitting apart the mind it is made of many many thoughts

Back on the merry-go-round. Awesome! Yet all too familiar... So I have proven to myself that no matter how pathetic, lily livered and socially impotent I feel I have become, I am capable of writing for

within the mind scraping from the depths of memory and imagination, wonder and joy, darkness and fight, we take the paintbrushes of life and color our thoughts the majesty of everything possible plausible,

create the walls, the castles and guards within your mind your vision, protection from that which seeks corruption from sight, the lies of reality, that we perceive invade our subconscious taking root

here in this body the self within the mind it feels it is and yet when exmained deeply there is nothing within a mind it is only the experience of everything the self is gone and with it a relief a lack

a crackling sound breaks out from the flesh of the cybernetic globe a life lived in fantasy and suddenly realizing that a rumor spread, the branches of electrical truth reach out and igniting fires and

the length of the waves stretching quickly then slowly into the infinite forever keep your eye on the horizon and the sounds the lights and the vibrations the energy spreading out from the center from

I was somewhere within a simulacrum a false ida of all there was holographic, and faceless nothing to be or feel or live and yet somehow, wandering through this this landscape of nothing that is yet

there is a way to create to paint the path of ones life with colors so wondrous so beautiful that it will inspired all who come after those who watch and live themselves in search of more, a way to paint

after the wonders of wandering a dreamscape all night long it takes time to reboot to find the mind readied geared up for the day slowly, the cobwebs of sleep are removed, the dust it is brushed off and

It takes a different sort of sight to turn the eyes within and find the self sight unseen prior knowledge unknown all things taken to limits before unreached and beyond these plateaus, hidden mountains

from the grey formless colorless depths of pure conscious nothingness emerges something slowly, bubbling forth imagination begins to take shape, random at first but honed, whittled down, into shapes

trapped perhaps at least temporarily in a world entirely created by itself and here within the limits of possibility suddenly a realization of location, situation, lucidity and then control, power over

there is a place of legends a majestic mountain of heros and villains prepared and awaiting tales to be told the travesties lived and endured the suffering brought the ancients to their knees tales lore

there is a fog that has settled over the mind as sleep slowly lifts its veil and thoughts bubble to the surface, but are quickly lost in the clouds, the moisture, dew on the brain but slowly the sun of

as the gears spin and turn the machine shakes and lives, suddenly all the parts, individual become one a singular entity powering its way forward and we, we must find our way within this behemoth metallic,

there is a history written in the genes the flesh, the blood within us all lives lived long ago pain, happiness, suffering, wonders beyond beliefs and through them our history remains within us, although

in the far off reaches, the unexplored corners of the universe the wall of fog but it is not a wall but thousands millions of faces in the beyond staring back and us, alive perhaps, the eyes move but never

I am who I have always been, as far back as I can remember, I am me but he standing there, across from me is not a thing I have before seen he is an entity deep breathing of the smoke rising from the

deep into the mind growth from centuries of ancestors lives lived and loved and long gone but passed on the trees, filled with the knowledge learned, hidden the roots, gripping deep into the soul beautiful