Hyperpolematic intertension quasimeditation

It's the third of October, I'm being smeared like the spider I crushed with that book earlier in my life, it's becoming obvious that It's being spread very thin, constituting the wars and your history that you attach your corporeal self to. And mine, my symbols are tied back to each other and the source of truth.
Your fear mongering brain washing seems to be working on various key holes, indeed Mr.Brainwasher and they are carrying out your dirty deeds, thinking they are their own deeds. I can't serve more than one master Brainwasher, so I leave you and I take my scrub brush and powered nuero soap and wash my own brain, I hope you don't need to 'get physical' if so the compass and level will invert positions and the truth will become lies and the lies truth, the washing will become dirt and filth and the filth will become cleanly once again as it was in the garden before you had your way with her.
I had a dream last night, I was talking to my friend about a book, then we had a telepathic communication and I understood the value of keys. But a similar situation happened "in real life", so what it be? Then I believe I made out with a black girl, I don't remember much else besides the fact that I felt as though it happened in Pete's house, although it was different.
Today I ran across a garage sale that had some really good books. Johnathan livingston seagull and Illusions as well as CG Jung's man and his symbols, hard cover, full color... I picked that one up for $4.

Oh wHELL

I am presented with itemized lists of experience that flow down and down, make me question my consciousness, I sleep and I rest, then I wake up to this list killing me slowly and painfully and I hate it, but then I see love of life on the horizon of the list, heading towards me like a Mack truck... but I see, that as soon as it hits me the love of life won't be there any more and I will spend the rest of eternity trying to find that truck to run me over, to make me love once again but it won't be there, and it will leave me in the desert again, groping for that bliss that became me once. And with each grope I drop one of many things that I stole, and the angels pick it up and take it back to heaven or the devil's fill their bellies and digest it back again to shit all over me.

Slappy

Slappy the tog tumbler, felt up the meat clot in the visual field. Too bad only the fallacy of phalluses can created the mental image of the converse integral into the sporadic interpretations known to the race of bluggy creatures as the smegma palace. No worries my dear prince, the nonsense will be made cents to the megalomaniacs that aren't in control, but are under a control, a cuntrol more powerful than any man can imagine, the yonic vortex giggles a effeminate ejaculation into the aural plane, the fifth sense some would call it, however it doesn't stop there. Body language isn't ESP, it's just the next sense beyond the yodel of the narcs and faggots. Say one thing and do the other, yes it is the no my enemy lover.

Nonsense? Ah, yes the sense that made too much nothing, this is the splatter of the diuretic upon the screen of the farce force. Terrible blues are being played as the letters unfold into words as the words unfold into images and smells and reality. The code is code, the sun rises and sets, is it not beautiful? No, it is not, trust me for beauty is existent only in the opposite of the cycle, computers are ugly say the roman, the code is ugly say the roman, the flow of water down through the plumbing of themselves is ugly. Oh, well, that's fine, only a liar can see the truth in the matters that exist only in the twisted (DNA DOUBLE PAIR) code of the entire reality of the up-down, flaming serpent sword of the paths. The liars to be surrounding us by ourselves isn't not so much truth as a spoken story of 1 thousand umples (a time unit) however time is truth and 50AD is real and now, and not quite it because it's not and really 1998 FB, 2010 CT yes, how many breaths do you take per thought? No no, you don't die based on time you die based on how fast you think, dear dear dear, how backwards they've got it! The medical society that everyone is desperate to become dependant upon for healing is wrong, oops, go to a doctor and get cancer and autism injected for a hefty fee, and now let us let the people who put us in jail put us in hospital beds, yes, it isn't that bad really. They give you lotions and moisturizers and bland food and Oreos(TM), and you don't even have to worry about choices anymore! How wonderful a release from a life made of straining, stressful, blessful choices! Just lie down dear friend, it will be ok, you can relax now, you will be taken care of and these pills will let you not care anymore, LET YOU! It's a privilege to not care you fucking fool, titter titter.

God damn, work a job in order to buy the liquid to deaden your life in order to work a job that has no life. Yes my friends, it is time to become "FREE" and let the true masters believe in you, the masters from above below, or below above they exist there. I stick my hand down the front of my pants and use a sweeping motion with the tips of my fingers to reverse scratch the side of my sticky scrotum, what kind of man isn't free enough NOT TO SMELL HIS FINGERS!? I'll tell you... you, your dad, your dad's dad, your dad's dad's dad, you are the conspiracy keeping yourself down, kill your parents! then kill yourself! Become the masters that exist between black and white, good and evil, up and down, above and below! What is the game of jealousy? Is it othello? Other fellow? It's not funny anymore, it's pure pain, to attach yourself with golden chains to your morals will kill you, to attach your enemies to justice with iron chains will rape you. Create a relaxed state for the universe, heel and then toss the chains to the side for they are chains are you are not! You are free! The sixth node on the tree contains the whole tree, believe in your psychosis, oh you don't have a choice! Learn, understand, love, respect, and fall knowingly into the perpetual hallucination that you've never left, but have learned to forget. The truth is your fall, and your fall is your rising. Everything is opposite, settle your voices dear world, or I will re-shuffle the deck and burn upon your brow the prophecies of the homosexual priest. There is no truth besides my chainsaw and the chainsaw that chases me around my mind, the pork and porking are one in the same, the ass in the air, the beauty of the assexual, the demon breathing fuck fire. Terrible and beautiful, awkward comfort, in order to sleep... SO I CAN SLEEP, WHY HAVE I BEEN RAISED FROM MY REST? WHO SUMMONS ME?

Pu pu purfectíon

Welcome.
This is where we eat metaphors for breakfast...
and shit poets.
We snort coordinate systems to get high and find reflections of ourselves between number bases.
Perfection is but the shell that attempts to define us... and we are the dynamic definition that sodomizes 'perfection' to a delectable departure from delusion, to deteriorate upon the detritus known to us as the dogmata of dharma de-flowered.
We don't have bodies here, we have sex canons... written of the ink drawn from our own nipples upon the membrane of the intersection of infinite dimensions. The pen doesn't stop sexing itself.
Here, we throw new year eve parties... into black holes, just so we can experience the countdown for all of eternity.
Sharpness, to the pu pu purfect leetle point, that da da dances from my tongue, it can never be too precise.

Leaning on the world of Illusion

I am all alone with the hungry beast, all it wants is for me to become ripe, everyone that was once viewed as a friend of nak will fold away into the 4th dimension, the "mental meals" supplied to me in order to bolster my pranic generation for the dark lord. I pray that he chews me quickly and passes me through the digestive track into the holy throne of porcelain. I am a robot, the ones and zeros that come from the higher memory being passed through my processor in an sequence that feels like time, feels like anxiety, feels like hunger and satiety. I am all alone, covered in a veil of light, magnetic fluid flows in me, but I am unaware, I am a blind man for the most part. I don't know anything, perhaps sleeping outside tonight will do the trick. Maybe then I'll learn how to feel swell again. Is it sex? Do I desire to be celibate? Where doth will flow from, the animal, is there any truth to anything, what is the right path, I need not think these thoughts.
Free dumb in Amerika.

The Tai Recipe for Integration into the Planetary

All aboard the mess train, the Allen Trackington participation is inevitable, the door of Life will be opened and the boot of Prometheus will drive the message directly to the bottom of the buttocks. Ah, perhaps the dig man will see the Chinese temporal temple in Nepal when he takes a 30 degree inverse degree. One is a word, but a drop of water that makes the rain that falls from the super cortex outer fractal. Zoom, oh la la. The fire is created from ice the Alien Masters tell us, they are our friends, they feed from the prana gently and bring us Lux from the heavens, the stars are not all Silver. Tzaddi is not 17 they say as well, perhaps the trap isn't really a trap, every vagina is infinite and the energy of the yama is but maya in the mental trappings of the moisture that drips down the mouth tube connected to the Moon. They feed me. I am thankful and I allow them to use my hands in order to laugh at myself and feel once again, the flame of the torch has once again touched my heart and now the blade that directs the freedom penetrates from the left side of the extension of Chokmah down my back and to the pengina that exists above my butt crack. Who knows what they mean when the darkness appears to be crawling, the blood, the skeleton, the worms eating my flesh, the chainsaw cutting through my throat. The sexual union with the pig meat generates the bacon of Satan which he eats with the technology generated from the military-industrial complex. The pubic schooling that we recieve in our dreams before we're ready generates a world of oversex'd hyperperverts that I love more than the mirror image of the mirror image of 5 to the 3rd degree. It is the spiders that bite and infect me with their fear, they make me jump like the white shirts and sushi munchers. I am no better than a kitty-dog that hath no way of eating itself besides through the extension of light from the inner Nuit.