Endosymbiotic archaic recursion brutalizing into a pansophic globus. Smashing the solid structure until the symbolic knuckles are bloody and swollen trying to fucking get inside... I physically crack my phalanges. Irresistible fixation of this human/alien disarray, my stirred intestines cater from the womb of my incandescent wrath that I try to stab into my chest burning like a rag soaked in pungent combustible when I can't even channelize it, unable to make it sit well, like any other emotion, they froze behind a window. I am corroded. It is a raging cauldron of mutated and mutilated spiritual turmoil that piles up in the endless cacophony. Hymns of indigestible suppuration condoning a divine proclamation of finishing the present existance but persisting with it since it cannot be shaped nor destroyed, sewing up the astral rupture of succesive acts of degradation. Double tunnel vision witnessing parallel events hold my attention, something I should've never crossed but can't regret it, it can't be any other way. In the wards of large scaled decomposition, here is no guarantee that stepping back into the zone will be a possibility, infinite putrefaction in progress. I guess this is how Saturn's discs work if they scrombobulate the warp tangent, the whole infrastructure collapses. It's alive, something under the north pole hexagon. There is a steep latitudinal gradient in the speed of the atmospheric winds rotating at different speeds at its center and periphery. The shapes form in an area of turbulent flow between the two different rotating fluid bodies with dissimilar speeds. A number of stable vortices of similar size form on the southern side of the fluid boundary and these interact with each other to space themselves out evenly around the perimeter. The presence of the vortices influences the boundary to move northward where each is present and this gives rise to the polygon effect, which collapsed after the incident. My spinfoam broke down. Wretched blooms and backwards reversing autoflux in perpetual rebirth. God's flesh under cellular destruction and molecular shutdown watched by the eye of the cytopathologist: structural alterations of astral morphological changes from within, for better and for worst. I have seen the light beneath the spectrum, under the spinning flickering fan, I could heli myself up after my sentence to rot, but not right now I cannot. Blew it all away. Do not attempt to reach me. I have sewn myself shut.
(03-02-2024)
