kins

One of these days i'm going to change the medium of posting. I have written a lot of crap in the past few years, mostly inane bullshit. However, i find that i still have messages to express, yet i find that the medium of the words does not give me access to motives that desires expression. The pure one does exist within the machines.

Rather, the words of text seem to lead me on in and of them selves. No manner of direct context approaches my mind's desire and rather i am lead simply to write words which could be translated to one word: Null. The audience matters not, for i am the audience and the reception of these words has been taken within already.... And least i consume my self in wallowed ways i would easily see that among a perception of the one is a sea of infinity for what could be labeled... And fabled. And if you ever knew me you would know that sequenced rhyming and melodies in patterns are what spur me. Inspire me. No. More.... They provide for me the justification to exist and hold within these elements i have collected without a need to see my life as a ponderable thing... Rather, these timely signatures from the earth click like a word spoken to me in a language that i do not hear often yet i am fluent in...  they speak to me and say that what i am seeing is real.