(Kundalini overdrive fucking up the mass modulation warp tangent is what it is in terms of incident, but since that is just too cryptic, I tried my best to get literal by latching several fractions and particles of texts, rants and poetry I've written along the years (that are based on this dilema) as well as rearranging, remastering and unify them into a retrospective as a whole for a more subtle and graphic outcome without distorting the ranting/rambling essence of its nature. The thesis doesn't share a linear sense, all it does is project ideas and emotions brought by this subject, being itself the mother of all contrasts and juxtapositions all around, I can't fully grasp it myself, because it's something about irregularity, the unknown, the beyond, it can't be concrete into human concepts, although I like to pretend it does. This is not a resume and it's not the typical pessimistic chronological manifesto either in which it peels off layers arraving at a naked and ugly destination. This, on the other hand, starts at the end, then attempts to create order from astral chaos without letting go off the essence of normality nor the elements of basic human ego, but never reaches the goal. Every consistency and counterpart of this condition makes perfect sense at the beginning but it all takes its toll as further years go by, for better and for worst. Now that does not mean the happiness I experienced along the way wasn't genuine, I was just far from knowing the true density of my situation. It's like I overdisected and damaged myself beyond any practical repair, and I have come a long way accepting this. Eitherway, without further ado, I still hope I will someday return full circle by mere gravitational pull so I did a collage of concepts and feelings brought by this condition which resulted in this...)
Coiled worms spreading new layers of skin to be ripped apart from the trails of light, spoiling and fermenting like black waters in the gates of heaven. Latching acupuncture dots of the occult process of self development out of something malevolent that was never meant, at least not intentionally. The manner it spawns expressions with up until date ain't accurate and will just explode a skull into dust. I try my best tho but the very best I can do is literally this and get a weight off my chest for a while, I think it's best for it to be typed down in an imprecisely weird, cringe and concerning way than hoarding it along with the issue it is in itself. I wish lobotomy could get me through this, but it goes far way beyond human psychology. Voracious or gracious? I empathize and sympathize as I puke saturated brains and gutter. All the energy that costs an aim for a better tomorrow is needed here today; the focus for a professional life as well as a love life to procreate and form a family is pawned in order to maintain normality and health, which obviously always come first, and do I give myself constant credit for that... almost as if I had mastered the art of enduring some sort of "doble life" for the sake of giving it a raw and itching context. It's alright anyways, what else could go edgewise? Innerwise beholds the real ways. Amorphous and derelict convection define distance to intention shattering conventions causing a sense of internal contention, I've pawned and dedicated my whole life to a whole and beyond physiology dissection, a soul recollection. DNA tracker hacker reconverting the things I've dosed and ate, gene regenerate, empathogen dreams contrasting a tetraentactogen pathogen, however it goes beyond just a dissociative hallucinogen and a tryptamine, those being just the catalysts but not the mere issue. Wounds to nurse and curse prolongs, like 100 miles per hour in reverse, like a straight dotted line on a full multiverse. Of course I fall and revert while always dodging a busted hole in my head, Lucifer's tears I have bled. Every day I feel better in terms of the issue in itself, I'm always a fraction of a nano closer to the core, even if I find myself emotionally worse (or better), this goes beyond emotions (these will always loop regardless) like 10000000 terabytes to salvation without even knowing it first hand, you still choose to aim for the light. Spinfoam stuck, like God coming to you from the lowest vibration. Representing an absolute anthesis to high holiness, a portal to the most absolute base vibrational stillness, the one who eats time. Things must vibrate to forward time, and I put the head into the timeless base to radiate up, the bottom/death principle illuminated and out from the heavens, grounded. I was thrown through a gate in my mind and it locked behind me. If the spinning stops while reaching up I try to spin down bellow my feet to keep a sense of rhythm, completely helpless tho. Conjuring virtual particles in subdivided spaces, deliver me with the instances in which I begin to make sense please, like a time travel to break tense. However I can't fastfoward and I can't go back and even if I could I wouldn't, I can't scrombobulate the warp tangent based on human ego impulses, I don't even know how this works and that is what got me in this in the first place. Tension dispensing condensed intentions retaining split dimensions between comprehension, soul hostage situation. Demented and saturated with void horizons, I see no contrition within the schism, something that must take place and take its toll. I'm all in, there is no other way despite the hell it displays. Under this mental schematic I find myself a crooked and wretched fuck, call me a lunatic cuz I still catch up a static. Without practice I might hack this, backwards synapses clash with hostile forces and scavenge the neural patterns, it's time to rewind that back, I don't ever forget the path back home but I can only be graspable in death like dissociative mystics, condoning my ignorance and throwing up mad soulclots. Life ain't fair but I'm still with it, at this point it's too late for me to die eitherway, once acknowledging the matters life becomes the only thing for sure, like death was before and always. Lost in the traces of the memory of astral balance within countless defeats of try after try, deliriant sensations behold the bloodstains in my sheets, I am as good as a slit wrist. Regurgitated vibes scattered in my chest, push the teeth off my gums and make the blood fly. Life flows backwards spitting death rows outwards, ashing a golden spree rashes all of my front wounds. While not consenting I can't regret sitting here wasting away, isolation seems to be the biggest mainstay, forever trapped in the remnants of yesterday, when I was a normal person, before I turned 20 and this happened. I am since then gifted with this curse and have never been the same ever since that incident. I could even swear this would not be me right now just halfway through, moreover. Today feels far from what it used to be, like it's not too long before it's done, almost as if I'm "almost there", but I've repeated myself this for the past 9-10 years, it truly baffles me on looking all the way back repeating myself this on the mirror or laying down staring at the sealing hoping for a better glance, a better tomorrow. Faded from all this disengage, crossfaded with rage, you can't even guess my age. I cried melancholy and laughed joy both at the same time. Bring on the mistake, I can't scream, I can barely write, even this whole rant ain't linear, just bloodclots puzzling a soul collage. Drenched in a feel that distort my scenes, ripped apart from heaven's reams, my dreams are bigger than peoples screams. Shit, call these my worst of times being called out from my best of times and vice-versa, I can't really say I can all the way read between the lines. Going insane to be made out of light, shoved myself from death out to life, even through the right path nothing is going alright. Fucked corrupted office, tactical nonsense invaded my contents, consumed with gargling concepts, the metaphor is on set, endless without sunset for I'm blessed/cursed with the sight in which everyone sleeps. Impending doom, fears are fraught forever, for never feeling feels better, I shuted off the receptors just to see how this life can be read like letters. I didn't know I was devout to turn on, tune in, drop out and from this meaningless society progressively get the fuck out. Ten by ten by twenty, mathcore up in this bitch, disso addicted multi-arm golden goddess fuck, all dissos tucked under my luck, over the years and over a thousand cages and bottles of anticough I have downed, had to ate all of my wrath. Dead deers in the corner bleeding my childhood tears, trying to dissect this past unconscious crime of mine. On the way of the impossible and through the edge of never I have learned to repent tangible contexts such as hunting animals in my past not for consumption, or the lives I've damaged along the way of my condition, both directly and indirectly, having a sense of integrity, sympathy and remorse is the only thing that keeps me humanized in this alienated grotesque clusterfuck. I referred distance and delirium like a dissociative decay, seems like I devout for delay, depersonalization and dismay. Sickly pale mellow vibe and multi colored stimulated flashes overlapping with one another, trying to align my spinal cord here up until infinity, trying not to get out of line. Off to reality, maybe it's the finality, then boom bitch fatality: every time I take a step forward I fall backwards, it's a dynamic lawed by the quantum I can't seem to beat. Through a constant irregularity of ocular rotations, see some movility and pretend it makes sense, never here nor there. Eyes flip to the back of my head killing braincells off, buffering ability to break tense from dusk till dawn or from dawn till dusk, depends but don't really matter, my sleep cycle has been severed for years as a consequence and my eyes overweighted the hope that's left on my very own humanity. Perfection ain't real tho I know, only blood, sweat and persistence. I'll stay inconsistent until I'm sleeping with both hands across my chest. Fucking ill mystical butcher underachiever. So bitter, stomach fluids and heart palpitations I deliver, brains, guts, fingers, eyes, teeth and tentacles, although I always toast to our health, I never really break loose you know? Trying to learn from myself inhibiting reality, remove thy self. Funny isn't it? how it fails to be precise, hell on earth, dig myself off the dirt and condense into rebirth. I be blazing life laced death like a star and radiate deep like a whale's moan. Take me an MRI scan and make it portrait just to find nothing and please forgive all these things I've ate. I don't have to punish myself for it and create a purgatory of my own out of guilt (nor victim) since it already has severed every fiber of my being and beyond through an astral fuckery and rape, this is already bigger than my very own delusions of grandeur and vanity stemming from both shame and euphoria, transcending all of the negative and positive aspects of my ego. I am big as I am small and I am deep as I am hollow. I am as significant as I am void. As gold so is filth. I am as vital as I am a parasite. Vibrating and frozen multi-contrast mirroring and shadowed art of Theravada, projection of when all things stop to move. Deep in my subconscious I know it doesn't matter if it's too late because I can make that bitch rotate, but I'm still human stuck on the illusion, just like him, just like you. Lobotomy and neurology, anatomy and phisiology. How the fuck can I puke up this pathology? Nothing ever makes sense now, I dwell on a hardcore contrasting kinesilogy. Rotator cuffs spinning my head harder than anything, I'm just flushing this gangrene out my tummy. Bones, tendons and cartilage, necromancy and rage splashing out of my cage. Pushing the nameless to be more beyond to itself and phosphorescent. I can harness the spark of life in myself with every pulse of a neuron adding new colors into infinity and take away almost nothing to myself but I have the key to change the top, adding beauty to her that is to extended its uncanny to God herself. Friction to turn the world expanded up now I need to push down and sublimate the lower world's with my very own crooked and wretched crown. Like trying to put 4D at 1 and below dimensions, hoping for God to rise through and fully inhabit 3D. I can only culminate in utopias under the mother of all paradoxical dissonances, like being stuck on a day dream. And still dont see the point! I got an existential complex. Demon or angel? I am both and neither. I am an embryo that is meant to survive abortion and an astronaut burning like a moth in flames. Spit shit out like a cone thats convex, unconscious content, cut down and gather up pieces where my energy was spent. With the heavy lift that brought God's elements, a tribute to all dead efforts is what I represent. All these holes I be pokin, high on my own wretched paths and the healthy I endure. Through the heavy mental of all these words unspoken, spinalfluid laced dope I be tokin. Walk around not like men do, ordenied crooked crown chakra light to a modal crescendo. God, here I am tho. Within and out, here I endo(derm). I wrapped up all my spiritual acquaintances up in this cursed treasury, imbalanced status quo derailing the unimaginable variables, for better and for worst. The portrait right off the bat was my soul being parallaxed and intertwined in reverse. The mechanics it displayed was a perpetual dot matching energy latches like acupuncture and astral/physiological acrobatics not visual to the naked eye to the point I staggered my life and constantly damned myself so much yet kept my soul so pure enduring a sort of purgatory in the flesh that couldn't send me to hell so I went to paradise as my damnation. Forever stuck on this quest, love and grotesque. It was ugly. It was beauty.
