hyper real is this sinking feeling

hyper real is this sinking feeling that images of void and lust and masses of non-entities press on you as work violently deprives of peace and strange is way these thing move, slowly and uneven, as a tender and almost sweet breeze breathes from outside it comforts me as a compass of youth and infancy broken only by unwise words from a strange and obscure mist prometheus delivers a steady and unsuspecting flow of desire and knowledge as someone moves in unsuspecting way towards me as giving speech to indifferent song of math. “abbandon yourself to this flow…” she wrote in impending doom – my territory is as ritual as language: confining colours and grace to each of the spheres of the heavens. and this harmony is my gift from me to you: cherish and defend this architecture of love, girl. faith will come only twice or less in a life time and it will teach everything you need to know. time is on each doorstep and it will want it’s death toll, as numbers of irredeemable strength, as a tsunami to that irresistible land of memory where little things gather around me as ambassadors of another age when alternative meaning of these things – a different belonging, an easy gathering of hope – where in the confinement of post-humanity there is no direction but the one inwards: take good care of yourself and of the things you love and cherish. don’t forget to chase the electrons in you and make sure that everything comes to place. communication-information is really no transmission – there is nothing said but the deafening volume of muzak: an overture of trouble and grief.