beyond me is…
beyond this is nothing. beyond myself is everything. beyond us is nothing.
you see it’s between you and yourself. it’s no wonder people build mechanical hearts to magnify each other’s soul. despite the loneliness travelers of the mindful, it’s dreadful to ever gaze into the soul of another’s; without the proper intent; without innocence of ones own consciousness; without chemistry; there is nothing. Nothing worth learning, and nothing worth your time.
you see, beyond this is thin air. only surrounding the “knowing” is a pillow of thin air; it refrains from condensing heartshapen daydreams into real life nuances. the real case of the story is that we can’t come up with one ourselves. it’s difficult to get to know someone, without risking your conscious feelings with one who can understand both meanings: knowing [you] and believing [in you].
while i can’t seem to twist, turn, bow the other direction, anymore, suddenly i’m escaping my own soul;my own certain demise. The reality is easy to deal with, besides the dysfunctional non-fictional people, our world is doing alright.
Pleased with all that i am, new cases of victorious mementos, seem to be desired. Loving the beauty in everything more and more. We can’t reverend at the sun no more, the moon is growing grey and darker, and though it may seem, like we’re just removing life from our eyes, homage to our ongoing hobbies, realizing our frustrations, and kicking the hell out of our sad, sad debt. We think louder and live longer when the sun’s not there.