Alectrical

Posted Sunday, March 26, 2023

1y

ENTP

Capricorn

8

7

Sailed Explanations

Dear Ms. Sylvia, so... Page one: This day was heavy, but tomorrow I'll be ready For the day to prepare the heading of my new setting. I am to decide, spin the dice, and syringe my head. Since my mind won't side, I'm freeing my threads. This spread of threads that lied beyond the side of my bed Is the alarm clock that tells me what now condoles me. This is a miss from a doomed planner's point-of-view, because the lists he formed never worked through. -A thought just slashed my vocal cords! Tonight, I shall speak no more. Parallel to the wall, my body is. My mind intersects into a quiz. I turn in my bed, but inversely in my head, Within cycled threads, repeating over span, That displays reoccurred images, when I lay to bed, That denies pseudo-intelligence, when I enter my trance. I dream of the kid by the tree that listens. He bestows stories, which weight wouldn't lessen. Too heavy, he drops his thoughts, And relieves them with what he sought. For that, this kid grew up in a flash. During that flash, he memorized the bid. He swore this as his power, While the bliss yelled even louder. I have had way too much to dream. Another night has been wasted away Into a day with an allotted scheme That will exist until I abandon the bay. So, today, I will breathe just to start Towards the last gray mile's part. Relaxed, I sat then stood. My day was packed, but I understood. 'Too early in the morning to...-,' spoke the horrid fool. 'There is NO MORE of that mourning,' declared the converted view. 'The ride that lies ahead of me brings something new. I can feel it within shades of glistening blues.' My thoughts give in to the focal chords, And so my mouth plays on with a strumming course. A lot came out with a beaming sword, Which is why this mouth will soon be aboard. Page two: A rock once cracked my local hoard, Causing my motifs as thresholds of the lord, Because I now know too fully that there's more. In the capricious goat's season, I was Bourne: Missing stanza, forever Well, basically, we are the products of time That clicked every minute into balanced rhymes: Yin and Yang; foul and fair; past and future... I know this now; now, I know to move forward, Towards the Omega, for who is the Alpha: the Alpha that made us for it is our mega. The supreme conscious intelligence that bears our infinence is the beam of blanc that subtracted on to dissonance, But I am to look to what will become. The thoughts spawned by cerebrums Are being translated into technologies fingers. That is what renders, and lingers our green thumb: The natural force that dictates nets on our abacus's course's balanced fulcrum follows short, and spins off it's pendulum. Begrudged to succumb, this is my continuum. Page three: Arctic's air is emptying this vacuum That has kept me in across all these years, So I extend to the cell, and ring to a bell, 'Help me escape from this living cell.' The phone drops, and clatters on the floor. This time, I am closing the window, and preparing for the door. A breeze won't consume me anymore. This cold front is my beginning of something more. Soon after, a cab pulls into my driveway, So I sit, knowing nothing is okay. The drive is awkward - INTENSE - with everything silent. I am entering an even deeper confinement. My body language is beginning to array Time's subconscious: I am portraying true contemplations, My mind is on frail foundations, And I am transforming all formation. A tree was between a glass and me. It's pass was so fast that time could not grasp, But I was still right behind the glass. Then, another tree passed. I slipt into the next dimension, but I thought it be another universe. So I split the book open, and saw my only interior. Forced to see, reach, and flip the pages; These were lessons spent with divine sages. 'So, the road before me would be solely controlling, But a toad sold me something that I found condoling.' So, I looked, but I looked! I saw, and I saw! If only, if only, I could only be someone!' (pause...) Page four: The drive is over, and my tantrum finished. I would invite him in, but he just left with a sentence. Now, I'm just one soul sitting on the water, Slipping further under this ink-ridden blotter. I have become a salient tree; Absorbed intrusively, but reflects only green. I will succumb all savant leaves; Observed intramurally, but collects sadly weans. As I am an observer. I've had way too much to think. Another life has been wasted away Within a drive by a dotted stream Directly into my abandoning bay. Ever since I was a child, I knew it would come. Here came the future with his clothes perfectly hung. Questions came and left. I was covered with filth. So finally the moment came that I was leaving Mr. Selve. A soul can't live where its mouth is a filter, but where would we be if it weren't our shelter? I don't know, but I clearly see patterns. The days grow fulfilled, so they start coming faster Does the Observer observe our observations, Or does he only act upon only actions? Because some actions are merely portraits of contemplations, But the cognitive process MUST BE the clearest caption. My life in a ship, in a ship that I love, I waved, and my ship begun. Tricked them all; confused, I lay. Embarked on my voyage, I would stay. This is it, Of Alex Delysid P.S. I have to add that we won't be part long. That reality seems an everlasting song, But I'm finished at last as my mind sailed to sea On an odyssey aboard a ship called Dreams. An Original by Name Redacted (Alectrical) (edited)