Dr. Mind-Bender, fuckers

Drowning the visceral revelations to make a path for realistic, conventionality of understanding circumstances in between the daydream of a breaking dawn and an undertow of heaven’s gate, that like the reality of this fragmented Eden, nothing but energy really matters, nothing is real, asshole. Just waves and vibrations, that like the pulsating gravitational authorities of the moon and planets, has not come into fruition among anyone but those who are really seeking some kind of enlightenment, that I, like the rest of you, are not chosen for. There is something about the way the sidewalk glitters when those divine being walk down the street, invisible to everyone, but realer than the cigarettes they are all craving, or anything else to smoke away the brutality of the insignificances found in the puzzles of searching for a deeper valance when none really exist. Shadows of last year are gripping the eviscerated ways of purging memory and shit from the soul. Parabolas of light, envelope me here, in this seat where lucidity has found me, among the joys of a leper’s hallowed laugh, among St. Vitus movements where there may be nothing but acceptance and bribery from the last survivors upon the eclipsing light of the century, when little beasts sit on power, and the immorality of the master is always in inverse proportion to the innocence of his creatures. Paranoia is the spice of life, kind of like intellectual K-2, or something like that. Here’s to not ever going gently into that good night. Wolves, savage animals growl in hunger pains behind the scenes, dimensions of divine consciousness. This is being alive, inside my glorious brain. Dr. Mindbender, mother fuckers.