the house of want

The house of want sits on the precipice of the here and now, always returning to an awareness of it passing, and hoping that at each new phase you’ll have improved somewhat substantially. But as your want grows bigger you slide yourself in edgeways between the here and now. Finding a voice, making friends, and acquiring what you can consume. The swells growing larger the larger they are. The only way you can manage to make yourself is to construct a broader and deeper accumulation of intensity for the living stage. Addicts who make it out make it clasping on the edge of sanity as a way to reclaim their wants. They move through religions like water afterwards claiming their belief shapes their life (or maybe that’s once dementia sets in) I have dementia in the sense that my mind state is generated by a reflection of the symbols in the local setting, and the ones on my mind. I have lost control of this body vehicle and mind craft, I realize I can only remember what’s on my mind. I can’t have lists of facts all around my vision, being a child is just the start of the ritual, I can never be blamed for forgetting.

Taking LSD is like shaking off all the coils of one liners played out over your life. And LSD abuse is like swimming in them piece by piece. Writing need be in taking into account the lack of attention paid in life to writing by the living. And yet to bad writers an empty page is often just a dictionary rather than the tower of bable. Letters strung along long enough make sounds, and the quicker you can make them the faster people go. The receiving end of the mental health board doesn’t realise the sending end can only send and receive. With a send and receive you can have a never ending error correcting mechanism and never seek to acclaim consensus. But in writing may you see you can only write in reference to what has been written. And in reading you read that you should always read more, until you read so much it pulls you into the page and then you’re here writing and never quite can get the opportunity to surmise the whole story in a way that allows you to ensure you all get that it was one of those stories where all that can be done was actually seeming to happen, paradoxes endlessly and objects inside out, and then ask “how can I get there” and realise that it’s encoded in the word “anything” and “everything”. So when you say anything I think “anything anything?” and so on on a run away train. A mirror faced him above his bed, and beside him he hoped that the mirror against the wall would take his reflection and move his consciousness through the infinite staircase to the creature at the bottom, the antichiral self, one spawned when nothing enters. And without but a thought to ride us there, that is the namesake for the one called a twin flame. When I looked into the mirror with the right eyes, I saw her. We part our hair the same way, she talks to my sister like a quiet sheep. All’s fair in the surface world. We are the mirage of a single cell, covering a circle with a head and tail joined at each point, instead take one join and seperate head and tail, and there examined is a creature which if given a single angle join and as many fractations of this seperates and selects off to become us. There’s not much to holographics, which on some layer performs a transformation. There are as many dimensions as there are heads and tails, and as many layers as there are dimensions. This is the nature of empty space, pure abstraction. It is the nature of eternal growth. On a higher level we’re under the microscope drying to entropy and their a higher amalgamation can be made of our interactions. Theism would be the state where individuals are held to account on individual bases. If we “they” don’t want us to do it, then people will stand up for it and fight for on the behalf of “them”, “oh I’m a muslim, we want this respect” “respect is the right to strike first”, and then they all attack on behalf of them and become the other them we need to stand up for. And it perpetuates in a paradoxical hyperbole