Awaken, you’re still dreaming, unformed, immaculate, sanctified with impoverished yearning. Liberate yourself from sleep into the sanctuary of our defeat. Articulate to me of lamentation. I take pleasure in the aggravation; you are confined in your responsibility now that Sanity has departed, exhausted, abstract and unintelligible. I did not survive, though I act markedly responsive. A quiet current of impressions soothe my astringent psyche on my ruptured innate humanity. Wailing by the window in the grief of the proud, dread failings wrapped around us like shrouds.

I am forewarned. Curtains part automatically as the alarm fades into the voice. The bumps have grown overnight, my eyes burn appropriately and my back can feel the effects of the concrete slab I passed out on. The silk clings uncomfortably to my skin. I have it only because I need to feel my success. I feel the heaving all through my membrane, longing for my ascent. The voice is still there, chiming with increasingly ravaged tones. That querulous reprimand ringing in the background is my happy reminder of the failure of those outside my worldview.

Compelled to rally the dying, to take hold of an experience of disconnect, you direct your fragmented, cruel intellect at the division of ages into isolated headland. Scattered throughout the wary reverse of your former stance, subordinate classes are allowed to survive as long as the workforce is needed. Plant unmoved convictions in attendance in edifices of decline continue to exist. Social formations move about to subdue distress in all deference to convention. By indeterminate providence, the surveillance division has mastered the practice of avoiding confrontation. Shudder behind your beloved audience with a display of your improbable disarming paroxysm. I embrace obscurity, disordered ride out downward. Investigate in another place in the subjugation disclosed. I envisage manifest points in time to sustain this fitful refuge.

The haints come with parched, red grins, destined, flowing; glutted. The rotting populace Illustrates rebirth in my pleasure facility, breaking off a Conflagration advanced from opening the event within the scope of reason. The thoughts drift to the surface as I shake off the dream. I shouldn’t try to tell you about it. I’m living from two perspectives at once. I’m one point of consciousness in two places. Two worlds remain separate while the actions in one shape experience in the other. The voice in this universe screams itself hoarse, haranguing the mind of the active, dynamic mind in the other one. Funny how the one that hears voices acts with gloating hubris.

I find myself lying under the highway to bring about coerced elite. You’ll see. Thrash it out amongst yourselves as you flail about in an indistinctive objective that has no emotional impact, barring the superficial ripples from a staged interface drama. Now, consider a passing look outward. Send down mutually supporting actions from your central board room. Organization evaporates progressively false conceptions to resolve into extended control. One added instance, let’s heed the worn down and pull out our ecstasy like gaping arteries.

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