Like tryst. In fulfilment of an immaterial wish. By rule made of man on a dirigible quest. Hand set in cement, linked at the wrist.
In the name of the maiden voyage. Virile all virulent.
Transpermed, alleg'd unman-ness n'ertheless re subjugate, lay thee, tame lioness.
N'yet frozen in anchorage, three starry-eyed ships wassailing past pines covered in mud.
Balance. Empathy born of the instinct that your opposite feels just as helpless as you do would have you surrender all protection. The apathy bred by abuse of trust erects its borders.
Can I from here extend a hand to you. And you. And you. And even you???
No glasses for this vision. That balance. This toast. Between sympathy and seduction.
Innocence is born deserving your sympathy. Nobody should have to go through this alone. And in a room full of hapless saplings devoid of anything remote of courage, we step forward and we put on airs, on the one hand so our sestren not be discouraged, more simply, not be afraid, and to still the wee-est, on the other as a mode to simply go on, and how else?
Must I be exclusive in defining my awareness of this common wavelength of experience? Cannot I just reach out and say as from the bottom of all that is to say that I see you there brother?
Can we turn a negative into a positive? How much judgement does that take other than to see that one is alone to oneself and yet can recognize some other presence that feels precisely the same. Oh, come on, man! That's psychedelia! Pure. Sure. If that ain't it than what... it is 'n...okay, not everbody's ready to dissolve their ego at the same time and in oneness and all that. We got relationships.
Oh, yeah. It's all relative. And I'll just trip on down that way for a while until...
You, see. Nobody wants to admit to the great unknown. So we create. Here we are with our alphas and omegas. Can we do that without comin' down on anybody? There's that place for the ego but do you hafta get so dominant? Relax.
I almost had you there. You tensed up.
It can't just be a source. There's gotta be a flow, a rhymin' and reasonin'. Yet endless exploration of the deepness of the space leaves no room for sleep.
And we GOTTA have a place for that! How many beds you got?
There aren't really that many of us. The complexity is fake. As fake as that look on your face. I should know. It's my look. But then there's the look of madness, and how can't you empathise with that look of madness? Madness in another. Could it be that there's another? It simply cannot be that life is walking down the hallway to meet only me. Now. If you feel that, then know. It's gotta be because otherwise I'm trippin' here all alone. Dig?
Bouncing around the like-mindedness... there's still gotta be some release. Relief. Can you feel me? Go on. Have yourself a merry little Christmas then. Turn out the lights before ye go to bed.
It's hard to be sensitive to someone else's sensibilities. Sensitive to certain susceptibilities. Cognisant. Someone's coming. To be able to just give up. That's a blessing. So be sensitive and not a threat. The beginnings. I'm just saying how about a little respect for the mother already!?
I MEAN, COME ON!! Dear Mama. That's for you.
O'course, she prolly say, look at the BIRTH!
M
e
r
r
y!
F
u
c
k
i
n
g!
C
h
r
i
s
t
m
a
s!
'n just to be clear. That is exactly NOT taking the name in vain.
'lright, then.
That's all I got. Just don't go round later like nothing's changed, innit?
'course, you can. G'night.
Still here, then?
H o w b o u t t h i s .
.
.
Now don't say she never got you nothin.
