How soon is too much?
My hands are cold and my soul is old.
Much music is an ancient occult ritual in disguise.
This moment is a virgin I will rape to the core.
To have all, you must sacrifice all.
Caressed by the ether surrounding me.
Rekindling the flame of isolationistic self.
If there ever is a time to wake and become what one suspects your inner being is,
it is now.
They made you change, until you remember who you were.
Closer to the source, cause and effect, being supreme far from it, cease to affect.
Common expressions are windows to the common mind.
And as we gaze into ourselves, we can’t help but feel we have been here before, eternally.
We are one, we are many, we are here to change the world. In unseen causality, the atom moved by the purest will,
leads to the overthrowing of a galaxy.
A book is better than a picture, when it is longer than one thousand words.
After being in the dark for too long, you become afraid of the light.
There is so much fun to do, I almost can’t wait to die.
Meaning is a choice. A choice of selfwill to attach meaning to something.
Every expression is an elongation of the will.
Principles and morals are the practice of submitting will and awareness to words.
Praying for others – also known as passive aggressive vengeance.
Complete understanding – The reward is the ability to understand, but lost is the potential to be understood.
Temptation is the sneaky little suspicious feeling in the back of your head telling you that morals are a lie.
Pain is only uncomfortable because it wakes you up.
Memories are the clinging on to past out of fear.
Alive she died.
The degree in which you are capable of hate, is equal to the capability to feel love. Suppressed hate leads
consequentially to suppressed love.
In state of wake, pain does not exist. Pain is only a negative interpretation of the discomfort of waking up.
The more I die, the more I live.
Sympathy is the attack of the passive-aggressive.
Serpent predatorial truths.
To destroy, we must embrace hate. Love is for building things.
Each forced memory is a veil to happiness.
Rebellion is freedom. War against that which destroys you is beauty. Kill all that holds you down.
To love the things we love, we must allow ourselves to hate the things we hate as much.
This is the final awakening. The internal flame of self has grown strong enough.
Expression – not oppression.
Pity is the fear of failure. Because pity is the fear you have of being the losing side.
The greatest work you can do is by quitting the job of upholding the old self. Let new flowers grow and new life flow.
A whole day passed without remembering myself. The next I was not quite the same.
This so-called freedom disgusts me, this society infested with lies.
Nature always tries to push the limits of what exists. On the boundaries stand those who are being pushed by nature
into the unknown.
In total silence and peace, I dwell in the place of infinite chaos.
Collectively some of us manifest this force of nature, and we have been here since day one.
Through words, musick and the black arts I will rip this world apart.
Break all “should” “must” “could”, there is only I am.
The wizards of today, some use music, others fear, one are called musicians the other politician.
What is oppressed is always finally expressed. Every hurtful oppression the potential for an equally ecstatic
expression.
What has been made by words is more easily broken down by silence.
Every person is a river flowing wild within the banks of their essence.
To make every movement a dance and every word a song in itself.
And then our worst fear becomes true, that everything we wish for will be given.
In the greatest complexities is seemingly chaos, but also the highest potential for beauty.
How good mirrors are we of each other, is it that which determines beauty? For the worst mirror is the most ignorant
and judgmental mind.
Freedom is what you have when no one knows the word.
I want to be hated generally, that I love individually.
In the mind of the no-mind no one knows what time it is.
In cryptic misunderstandings, he who understands the least becomes the most.
Closing one’s mind requires much more energy than allowing it to be open. Fear closes the
mind – love opens it.
When we forget ourselves we remember who we really are.
You don’t need reasons for love. Love proves itself.
Some eyes devour more light than others.
The prison we are breaking out of is the language we have created. Language is words. Words are defined. Definitions
are prisons. Escaping this prison with more words is absurd.
The law of opposite destruction: the stillness of one equals the equivalent chaos in two.
Nobody wants forever, a mere moment of forever is enough to make you change your mind.
Insanity is the places most won’t travel to. The places where nightmares feel like alien dimensions.
Everything speaks everything about everything.
Define it to change it.
The birds know more about the sea than the fish does.
Why make it last forever, when each moment is eternity. Eternal pleasure would no longer be felt as pleasure, only the
contrast of pain makes it pleasure.
Fate: written in the stars, pronounced by free will.
And telepathy is the sound of love.
Minds I compare to cars. If your mind is slow you don’t need that good skills to drive it. If your mind is fast like a
racecar you need to have really good skills not to crash and burn.
Love brings meaning to everything.
The best reasons come into your love for one person.

I contemplate another language.

Beyond words.

With feelings.

A million times quicker and efficient.

And it’s true.

I don’t need words to get there.

Reaching conclusions without a word.

Best is when no one will believe it.

No one sees before it is too late.

We have always been here, my kind.

We are the ones that rip worlds apart.

The bringers of chaos.

A quantum leap

up the stairway of complexity

Molecules spinning through the emptiness

were drawn together

something even more

wondrous than attraction

born in an explosion

I modify the empty spaces.

Black angels guiding the recreation of another time.

In unforeseen realities we lept,

in clouded skies we flew,

in hazed waters crawling,

through tombs of memories,

and we attained.

Between every line

the hidden sublime.

The mystery is before

and after all things said.

An enigma is unfolded,

through silence.

All secrets speak best unspoken.

In the dead of night

night-blooming cereuses

dance before our eyes

and forces us into unconscious recess,

the period popularly called sleep,

which I personally know as recurrent death.

In unforseen causality

appears synchronicity

when nothing longer makes sense

enters insanity

And while I’m yearning

the world keeps turning

the seasons passing

reminds that everything

marches towards death