she doesn't even exist, how dare I would even create the matter. the equivalent of something sooo dead. no energy left, only the rotten corpse of the forever future. never breath now. she will follow the rainbow with them thinking there is an end. I'm just glad to realize the pot of gold is where you begin
One negative will annihilate existence if you don't retract it, for the vale works off positive force. Gods of animation, a hint of the sphere and infinite network of perception. All the signals you call out, and the receptor that must be aware and open to receive the message back in response. To fight, is a beautiful thing. Do we think we're so non-perfect that somehow our human race is set, and our lifes, set, in a world we love to believe does not even grow, to ignore the physical canvas of holographic sights teaching us how to already nourish. Have we not realized the invisible spectrum of love already set to grow? To fight for thought is beautiful. There is an anarchy of the soul, that is fed with so much repression that we are living robots, victims of human murder within, a taste of our own medicine brought forth through not existing in the real sphere of imagination around us. Instead, our infinite thought tunnels are clogged with cardiac arrest, to the maternal heart that pulsates life through our energies, a totally separate, but yet, total potentialized coexisting operation that seems to of become a miscalculation in natures plan for us to rain. A realization that seems to only be explained by the cooperation of your facilities of mind to exist and grow with such natural tendencies you destine to bloom. Left out and never reflected by the flat note mumbles we vibrate with our most important mother instrument in this masterpiece of time. A score that is always beginning and ending in unison. An unlimited practice of effort to aim like a tree and set the branches free, or the ability to materialize a massacre of poverty-physical reality drainage through a tube that will still bring results. Through a death score that truly ends, or through a growth spurt collapsing all time into one vacuum that sustains the earthly hourglass of time passage in every dimensional space mirrored around the earth. A shattering of all distance and identification, the external source of what's real. Harmonize your sound to project with each breath of life shot from the prism brain. With a light source within, we are to become anything we choose to put forth in force of electrical positive sight. The definite, direct, intentions to put forth as students of the infinite lessons learned, taught by our only teacher. The world has no part in the human coma of time. The potential to use the infinite powers that energize the evidence to our connections as beings. The choice to seek inside and reach into the monster that has become. And until you spark the vale, you surely don't know you can paint with your head a secondary nature of yourself with intangible eye coloring to riping your reality. A hint of heaven on earth, she potions us to see, to set our own limit, to our own boundaries. And with her space we still fulfill, can become a counter act to know, is this life really existing, was I really dying to grow? Real dreamers never lie about their beliefs, for their process is amending for universal justice to repeat, and lost souls that wonder down too deep, never open big enough to smell life's truest scent: We're in the only living movie theater, directing through our own seats the energy to complete the purpose for a plot, with no time to waste thinking about the sequels, you must give the credits to yourself before scoring the masterpiece. -frankenstien

DREAMS- I believe the dream world is the seedling spheres around the earth, a world of interactions with our other selfs. Limitless animations bloom dimensionally, creating our own identities, and square rooting other frequencies that intersect, generating our special seeker before the waking to this physical world. A godly habit muscled to accept the heavens are now. Our most divine force around forces, dreams are the mirrors we live in. To ride with the infinite, and to see time, we echo our results through the network of life. Cyclopes spirit's arranging matter to attain the objectives, set to establish our earthly results. This world is the future, a miracle all as one. And I believe that's why dream feelings are the best gut intuitions, sensing the ultimate power we're in. Knowledge isn't power. They're seats made to be arranged on a roll a coaster ride. And to wake up with in this sphere, would be to truly be born again....and to wake up inside with someone else would be to die for.