THESE INFERNAL DREAMS!
THIS POST IS MAD ARAB APPROVED!
Never is it that I believe the impossibility of their content. It is the reason of these swirling experiences and the seeming concretion of their imminent passing that disturbs and leaves in its wake a throbbing mass within this Dome, not altogether cathartic. Sadly. Rightfully.
The past is a picture, neither cracked nor fixed; this Nether, a feverish morass in its ability to invoke the cliché'd, over-compensatory and torturous retributions assaulting the fragile framework of a barely sound substructure.
Within these words, or perhaps behind, shambling into a lunging posture, are the numerous and rotting spheres of the past, hovering slightly, this shattered rosary poised just out of reach within the fog of mind. A lingering of penances.
Human nature deems it clear, that is to rationalize its own folly, but it is the Love that demands sacrifice. Pagan-like in its practice, suggesting the primal yet baseless nature of its unnatural endeavors?
Waking mindfulness wracked with the intensity of missteps past. Multiplicative, an electric virus, compounding to amass a weight fast approaching the insurmountable. In essence, a fractal of pain. Beyond mine.