Detest myself

EPL- INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL What happens when we can imagine no more? For we each shine bright for but moment …and then the moment is gone. Seemingly profanely captivated in us as we are flittingly captivated in ourselves… and then the self is gone. Poof, no more But fractals seem to travel on unafraid. It isn’t due to impact but of some force of continuance. It’s not so much a quality measure as recently suspected but a mere filling in of the cracks of dilapidated omnipotent willed construct. We but a filling in like putty where there may as well be nothing at all. That is what this so called ‘divine creator’ arbitrates. …and as for this All Mind Perhaps a broken down old discarded and obsolete computational device somehow imbedded in binary within the fabric of assumed space and time? Standing wayward where there should be a helm? What happens when we can imagine no more? There is nothing worse than an ignorant intelligent person. A bird without wings stands more compelling. That is me. That’s who I ultimately became; my demise. A slow burning unregulated bio-electrical discharge. An icy reflection back onto pure light energy where there should not be ice. Blackness, darkness deep loathing meaningless soft spatter. That is where you’ll often find me. I am the grime under the slovenly unkempt and devious man’s kitchen countertop. No one ever really knew I was ever alive in the first (place) and I only half existed to myself in all those moments that past unhinged. A system. A system for them all! A central axis point about which everything seems to circulate and fester. …but we are no brood of Witches. All identity that falls must first be imagined. From the most sinister to the sweeping secret hillsides where Donkeys and Goats seem to imagine themselves and shimmer in brilliant specter when no one can invade and interrupt the stream. Reality? That is where I’ll be. Within the hearts of all those looked past, marginalized and made to be afraid. And for what?! Self sacrifice so that one meek and innocent soul might live to breath inspiration for but another godforsaken day?! Indeed what does transgress when we dream to imagine ourselves no more?