I feel so lost in these static skies.
Clouds of cathode rays floating above us
Raining down signals on our fragile minds.
Lightning bolts of fear and obedience strike.
No birds fly above us, no trees grow around us.
We are cities and industries and companies and products.
We radiate back with signals of our own in the storm.
Little lights in a harbor of souls.
We are stars. We are dots on a grid.
Watched and misaligned and dying out.
But still glowing bright.
At our core, we are all the same.
Lovers, fighters, star igniters.
Lonely passangers on a trip through life.
The simple things make us similar.
A universal understanding o
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We are many, and we are one.
Joined together and divided
through one another and ourselves.
An airship and a train wreck.
A billion voices billowing
from the bottom of a soul.
Everything is one here.
tear and laugh
warmth and cold
hate and love
All thoughts and feelings run together
I know your sadness, you know mine.
Lines tear apart and merge together
railroads and highways
faces and people
your friends become you
becomes their friends
I, you, they, me
How to Tell the Blue Man NO
You’ve experiencing it again, aren’t you? All the time, and more frequently, you have been experiencing full-blown hallucinations. They start out innocently enough; the realistic sound going on in your head may sound like a commercial you heard earlier on the radio. Some of the furniture will move around, and posters come to life with enthusiasm. After a while, though, it may feel as if there are several different narratives going on in your head all jockeying for your attention, and you get caught up in imaginary situations that feel all too real.
Do you feel that tipping point, where you can look down into the levels of basic p
Crash Test Dummy #6
A pair of hands tightly clutched a steering wheel. For the moment, man and machine felt as one. The car was like a tiny metal body worn by the occupant inside of it. It was like armor, except that this armor wasn’t designed to protect anyone. Not at all.
The Lamborghini Model X7 itself was beautiful. Sleek, black, like a jack-knife being thrown against pale blue moonlight. Everything about it was aerodynamic and sexy. Peter couldn’t rationally explain it, but something about that combination of metal and curvature had made his dick hard. Like a moth attracted to flame, he had been attracted to it.
He had struggled with the lock.