In a world of trauma, crumbling cultural systems and shifting identities, we must write from our Third-Eye. All entries below are an attempt to do so...
You can also find me here. https://www.facebook.com/propheticintrospection
Hell and its delusions scattered like brain waves, I crossed the paths of ravaged souls and saw the twilight yawn, shuffle off to bed with vertigo and a raven's head, twisted on a chain around her neck, still breathing through its mouth, glowing eyes hissing back at her. Could you understand the devil's call, bones quaking in their sleep, cold and fuck and rubber rain driving you home after breakfast and never calling you back. Growing angels, drenched in their own heroin, sneezing diesel fuel and contraceptives, leaning me back against the brick wall on a Saturday night, moaning the words of mouth brethren and yearning, jouissance and the paradigm shift, ghosts in the courtyard, lace and luxury, lies and forgotten blood, spilled in the hallway where you fell when you were six. Howl with delight to unclaimed perception, the lightning recoiling as quickly as it struck the river, bliss in an instant, sunshine in the valley, the fire burns through the morning hours, forgetting to go to bed, laughing at the sight of man and his fake power over nature. Walking dreams showed me the light in the darkest places. The shadows uplifted through space, scattered whispers echo, a faint sound reflecting off the rooftops of my town, falling asleep in your arms and praying to wake up a different person in the morning.