her: you vacillate between being real and being not cool. and its so little, almost nothing, what I’m asking, which is for you to be a decent friend and a respectable person. like ARE YOU KIDDING? I’m not asking the sky here.

me: yep exactly. this is precisely the moment i tell you to eat a bag of dicks because i’m getting in my rocket ship to betelgeuse alone~

the mania of my mind is a startling vibration. it slightly unravels all reality around me, here and there, but i’m pressure myself to act normal//blend. i don’t want the humans to know that i know i’m not human and neither are they. and yet its all i write about. ha! isnt that exactly life?

what i mean is, i intentionally explore and test my ideas and memory//belief structures of love, morality, god, death, pain, time. throughout my life, i’ve experienced these different things, or the concept of them, and like everyone, i’ve developed ideas about them. some ideas are so primordial, you know them from moment one, like time, and the concreteness of physical reality. the newborn is pitched horrifically into the world; through a tunnel of darkness and blood, and finally a shock into the bright new cold, gasping. this is a convincing introduction into the reality of fear.

once you question your physical reality, once you question the architecture of your ego, the world wobbles a bit, it gets loose and treacherous, for now your mind-construction is slipping all over the place, a castle of melting ice, like too much rain on a brickhouse, it slips back into its ancient mud form. (not very good haha (too hard to yourself (could be harder ( let that forehead bleed(face the sharp fang-like criticism of the inner vampire brian, brian(you can do it)))))

even sitting in a coffee shop can be alarming. when you renounce the ego, you renounce also its protections — sharp, bloody, vicious spiky protections they may be, but they work. it is like throwing down your smoking executioner sword you’ve held for a thousand generations, all through the planet confederation; you throw it down, although the aliens and humans with their violences still slither and slouch towards New Earth nestled between the alpha stars. you know there is no lovedust in anger and violence, the very pillars of ego-strength.

defenseless, and you have to learn the new way of defending yourself not with blades but with stillness and love.

molten hot beaches blisters the banana skin. good. excellently ephemeral eidolons play eternally through her ether, she giggles and dances glowing faintly gossamer, sliding among the deep phantasmagoria.

can you stop the words from pouring forth? no! you cannot tell me the water is not always with me; it it always with all of us. we are made of the water of #life, above and beneath us, separated by the bliss-powers of the #childlord in genesis of earth. lovingly, the water of heaven slips through her ninefingered hands and becomes rain.

i once pitched this idea of god to a friend of mine, that god is a teenage girl, a hot young girl who loves you. shes approachable, and pretty, and shy, and fun childlike, all the things worth protecting, worth relating to~

as opposed to a bearded frosty white old man, who glows//reigns upon a golden throne, the nebulae and protogalaxies unfolding endlessly from his outstretched, massive hand. for some, it is hard to relate to God the Father, he can be so marble and cragged.

eternally young and eternally old is god. god is both infinitely young//new, and infinitely wise//old. the young girl together with the father who is so patient, he has never moved, not once, since the beginning of beginningless time.

apples and anachronisms, apathetic apotheosis, alliteratively literal. clanging around within the churcnin gears of the lord-machine, Lord-Machine #455. Prisoner 853 is the dragon empress of the southern sea, her heart swims koi-fish in a tidepool beyond the crest of the world.

what you are reading is an exercise I do just to simmer down into my balanced liquid writer state a bit, reaching my inner t-1000 made of leaves~

methuselah meretricity! meticulously metaphysical and mellifluous. i can’t help cutting the crags with crabs crawling cancrizans through my nightmare notions of nebulous space. do we dare scratch upon the silvered surface of dimension 5? the realm of pure geometries. lines go on for eternity, and thus they become a circle. platform continents, four giant chessboards, perfectly and impossibly smooth like molecular glass, checkered glossy with the sky and the thousandwaves beneath.

bjorn trudged through the snow, unbothered by blizzards. they blew through his beard and that was about it. houses tumbled by, logs cartwheeled screaming through the evertrees, for the frost giant Ithilion had awoken and was working the bellows in his mountain flat, making cinder steaks and volcano tea.

bjorn reached the door and knocked with his golden axe, tall as a shipmast. Ithilion answered: welcome brother! it has been many mellenia since i’ve awoken. I have decided to freeze destroy the world, while sipping earl graywolf britishlike by my cave-hearth.

jolly, said bjorn. you know, i am now a defender of humanity, so your blizzarding must be dialed down a tad. i was hoping to ask politely.

hmmm! so youre honored by the nine princesses and are given a crown or two by the pathetic grovelling little wormsicles, and you dare tell a frost giant ex champion dragonblood drinker what the fuck? get the fuck outta here! hahah (he laughs merrily, the earth shakes, stalactites fall and impale the bone-scattered ground)

bjorn: thats a no i guess.

ithilion: that golden axe couldn’t cut in line, let alone cut an ancient being of ice and death like me.

bjorn: i’m finding you so highly interesting, i think ill just leave. destroy the world, if you must, but i think you’re being a little selfish, which is small of such a big like you. (leaves)

Ithilion: (ponders) ha! (cries) (sobs uncontrollably, the winds and snow stops, summer appears, rain falls and waters the northern world into a new green paradise)

(birds float down and land in the trees near bjorn and sing songs about sunlight and bugs in the warm earth)

bjorn: and he thought it really was an axe. haha (opens gold wrapper around the axe chili-pepper chocolate bar, takes a viking bite out of the blade)

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