An Indian newt full of sugar

Cultural identity could be likened to mass hysteria. All form being illusion and not real and any identity with it is a kind of hypnosis such as the old boys school of us and them and so identifying with this is a form of slavery.
Realisation of this is a step towards freedom and self independence away from all forms of control.

In that independence the muddied waters clear and a profound stillness occurs and is a self awareness of being that can bring great joy; but for most the school of thought is that a fancy face can go further than being half in or half out and then some between the sheets of a full bloom; but like the poor proton in the machine of the experiment blasting off is not all it’s cracked up to be before sundown with a camera in your hand when the quarks are around; and now by the miraculous decision to expand we shall presume to be innocent unless questioned guilty; this is a hot-seat you can’t win so plead the fifth amendment and say nothing.

This is where we occur, where we appear and most often where we are and we shall clap for the winners who have won for no reason at all but that we’ve let them for they’ve come from the hard place and must win at all costs, and it’s all right, we don’t mind at all; do we Miss Jones? And if we sleep forever don’t wake us, we are sound where we have fallen, peeling onions in the graveyard-shift of open expansion...

Cupid’s lips but this is all a typhoid fever of beauties me bucko that is the all of it all, but you are all too late and far too soon in this awakening that can’t go on without you and the heart to do so, and no one else can realise you but you.

And now the fifth dimension comes to ruin a perfectly good plan I have to run into the story lines of what I have seen to say more; but I am full of erudite like a prized Indian newt full of sugar that stands without, wasting to go within, and wishing, and I am ready to fall like a Newtonian apple right out of the sky into those quantum arms and disappear into them forever; but how can I fall that far from here where I am on the ground with no falling beneath me like a beached whale or a forgotten ship on the shore?

If you look closely enough through the walls you can see patterns of energy. These patterns have edges that speak, but so far all they’ve said to me is that the Russians are coming with their machines that can read minds and even make you think things.
I keep asking these patterns if they can be more precise but they won’t say any more, for now it seems, so I am left here to my own devices to dance away where I am with half of an answer to all things.

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