Spiral Confessions

The sky is my mansion where a pallet is transfixed. The more I look up, the more I see endless spirals turning into real life forms. I wonder what ideas can exist, from what’s above me and below me. All is possible with imagination and with the inspiration, you can create the very thing inside your mind. It’s very confrontational to see the very result of what is physical in your mind. It’s not about whether it’s possible – but about the process to enable it to come to life. The process depends on where you are in your life – a lot of things don’t make as much sense as they use to because I’ve evolved. The more I grow, the more I know. Knowledge is mutated and with this means a sharper awareness of my sensitivity to confession.

It’s very confrontational to see the very result of what is physical in your mind. It’s not about whether it’s possible – but about the process to enable it to come to life. The process depends on where you are in your life – a lot of things don’t make as much sense as they use to because I’ve evolved. The more I grow, the more I know. Knowledge is mutated and with this means a sharper awareness of my sensitivity to confession.
Confessions of mystery’s tail are hypnotized at length. While my eyes are turning into further oblivion, I’m counting the days ahead of me. What’s found in the eye of the spiral is confessed at the misunderstanding of destination. I’m caught in the influx of where I want to go, and what is meant to be redeemed in my previous promise.

The more I look, the more I change on what I’m really seeing. It’s like looking into the eyes of a spiral – it confuses your eyes and misleads what is seen next. The spirals are like optical illusions, I see more than one thing confessed. My admission is that I understand multiple directions. This only encourages my navigation because I have the freedom to entertain the depth and height.

Come again o’ gust of wind and blow me into distant lands. Return to me – far away places, where I’m found only by the deepest seas and highest mountains. I’m incapable of seeing all avenues left for me because I’ve already been covered in telescopes and magnifiers. I’m followed by infinite spirals and they seek to rearrange me. Fruits from the tree have fallen and in close proximity – one can distinguish the rotten pieces.

What’s dead was once alive only now spoiled by the passing evolution. Changes are recurring and patterns are emptying their significance. Time becomes a deeper illusion and I’m hypnotized by the spiral. I am spiraling out of awakening – the signal is gaining a hypnosis of sensibility. A sour taste lays upon my tongue when I realize the irreversible. Days like this are made up by silent discussions in my heart.

I’ve always been fascinated by spirals and their infinity. When I was young, I’d always draw a spiral with an eye in the middle. This would signify the random state of a hypnotic rhythm. Spirals symbolize what’s constantly confessing tricks of the eye.  Spiral Confessions are the turns in my eyes that build on the invisible until manifested. Random ingredients are captured by mindless mixing to convey taste. Methods come and go but with the eye of the spiral, confessions are random and full with direction.

Pardon me while I take a ride to a land of wind and dust. This ride makes me nauseous because it swirls through infinite directions. I’m here and there and everywhere at the same time. Spiral Confessions are statements of mystery which are filled with twists and 360 directions.

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Through A Sense of Revival

On The Express Train. Cause – I’m rejuvenated. By a sense of revival. I feel it deep in my toes. I’m curling up again. Beginning to blush. Feeling the rush but I’m shy by the awakening. I feel like a young boy at the altar. I feel the fans sweeping against my face. I’m sweating. Through a sense of revival, I have become the reviver. I have renewed again by the steps set before me. I know I have to keep pushing and going after what awaits me.

I feel goosebumps crawling over me; it’s making me weep. Now I’m feeling weak. My eyes are closed yet my eyes see very bright lights. Tongues are likened to fire. Many of them are speaking; I recognize some of them but many of them sound misguided.

When looking around – I hear voices of change intending to manifest a revolution. Everyone is fierce with fire to bring about a realm of difference. A change is gonna come, a new way of living. Curiously, I wonder how will anything ever happen? Seeds are being planted, but the gardeners take a vacation soon afterward. People are not always responsible for the seeds they plant. They trust too easily in the unknown process. They hope it will rain and hope the sun will shine but have no clear knowledge whether the soil is fertile enough.

Everywhere you go, people are saying this and saying that. A lot of them are saying it because they heard someone else say the same or similar things.

People usually reflect the environment they are raised to believe as valid. People are usually just believing until they experience a difference. People have to understand themselves before they can understand others. People like to do things then do nothing at all. People like to stand silent while someone else talks. People are kept with their traditions and are stubborn to believe otherwise. People want change but fail to acknowledge the mirror. People consume a lot of toxic things and believe they are being informed by those toxic things. People forget people remember. People are always doing something and nothing at all.

When I turn the knob, a room full of mystery awaits me. The unknown is carried with a promise of greater and lesser. The signal is clear and my understanding has been renewed.

Being brought back to life – I’m the reviver of chance. Words are translating into symbols – interpretation is gaining awareness of the game. A game that involves worthy cards which are shuffled at the will of the joke. I’m still the Jester – and with witticisms, I am free to possess the cards of chance. I know what is about to happen, no need to explain – only to perform. If I was to tell myself the very thing my dreams made clear – I’d have to lucidly experience my waking point.

To experience the very things I see as symbols. To encrypt the door of mystery is to decode all of the steps in a blur.The veil of the unknown is all I can see. I only know what has been invisibly sent out. Clues have become the aroma of my disappearance. Within the cancellation of presence is only a renewal of vision. My spirit is not limited by gravity – for I can not come down.

I’m seeing 7 – no matter where I look. I am finding the recurring seven.

 

The Ocean, The Ladder, and The Window

Drowning in the ocean of existence. I am somewhere found deeply in the blue below. This ocean is self-engineered. All of my tears and fears are staring at me. Now I can baptize myself in my own remission. The light makes me confused, but the darkness is my spell of choice. I’m My own rescue. My own savior. My own guide to the shadows.

I am having to search with the lens of the ocean, going endlessly down to find a path of righteous monsters. I only now request that they drown me in the promise of their nightmares as I sleep. I want to at least taste of the horror before the massacre begins.

The words that are written have been written before, but now I have forgotten what came before it. The memory is neglecting context but history stays true, time and time again.
As I sleep, I’m reaching up to the ladder. A way out. A place of arrival so that I can enter the window or a door of being. Before I get there, I’m caught in the steps.

I look beside me and notice every dragon of distraction. These dragons swirl in circular identity, waiting for me to be caught in its snare. I go to sleep again, now I begin to climb higher. I don’t want to awake from my slumber.

I want the mountain of dreams to cover me whole. Nothing is left for me here in this waking life but symbols and mysteries which prophecy of my sleep. With carpet eyes, but wooden floor perspective.

What I see is a concrete dream. A promise that I believe because of the passion and power of love. I’m sure of fulfilling manifestation because of wooden floor perspective. These carpet eyes relinquish a soft pattern without concern or notice to pick up visible stains.

Those eyes more than welcome vacuums and stain remover cleaner – for carpet picks up on everything much faster.Wooden floor perspective is far more established and true to the heels that walk upon it.

I still desire the medicine of advice and encouragement, for when my resources retire – I stand to gain. By climbing the ladder and reaching the manifestation of the window, I have found my resting place.

Frequencies turning into deeper habits. The behavior of the unseen is what’s kept in the fortune cookie of opportunity. As said and as circumcised – I’ve already dissolved off the extra tissue crowned to distract me.

The fortune of this responsibility is deep and the enrichment of myself is multiplied. I’m there. Through the sadness and through climbing the ladder – the window of manifestation has revealed the key.

The Ocean (Sadness)

The Ladder (dREaM)

Window (Manifestation Key)

I’ve been drawing this for about 7 years, only now there’s been clarity to this representation.

 

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drawn in 2009

 

I sometimes find a home in sadness, and occasionally I’m lost. However, even when drowning in sadness – there is always a ladder.

The dragons of distractions turn on every pressing corner. They have eyes and they see you. You can buy into them on occasion – but never forget the ladder caught in between the dream and waking life.

When you climb up, you are closer to the manifestation key of your dREaMs. The window is the door. You can look through with Carpet Eyes and pick up on everything.

Yet, it is with Wooden Floor Perspective – you are able to eternally sustain what is picked up. Carpet Eyes // Wooden Floor Perspective.

Battle of The Eye

What I want is often at a crossroads with what my eyes see. I’ve been at a battle with the Eye. My eyes continually hold on to what can be and what is. In The Light – A thief can hide all; save his eyes. Melting away at what he wants // all he sees is desire. So his eyes are like ice. The situation of his desire begins to liquify.

In my mind however, the parables don’t seem to really inspire a deeper truth. For every passing day a story is told. Stories that are meant to be recorded and remembered for lessons in life.

Truth be told, I am stubborn. I’m pressed hard on being free and steadily gliding from a higher sense of myself. I’m incapable of being locked in because I am inclined to always find tunnels and loopholes.

If you give me a box, I’ll see a paradox. A rhyme that will guarantee a key. The question and demand are in my incentive. My eyes see with quest and affirmative navigation.

I find it easy to escape because I truthfully believe all of the answers are from within. Nothing hides or can disguise itself from me. From what’s clear to what’s not – I’d be a fool to not look again.

The amount of activity that’s happened in the last couple of months still astonish me. I’m not always ready to face the reality of these transitions.

Dry spells engulf through the mirage. A desert filled with clowns and imaginary friends. The clouds above me are changing like the phases of the moon. The distant stare covers me into a deep oblivion. True to character // a trust is afforded to familiar betrayal. Constantly being neglected at the eyes of a spiteful gaze.

No true trophy is kept – the only award is unanswered questions. The war has been renewed by lack of compromise. Nothing exist besides me. Vessels are emptied and the fullness of meaning has been exchanged for promised attempts.

Sometimes life keeps us in a toss up of action. I don’t want to move at all. Then I want to run like fire and never turn back. The rain has compelled me to grow.

Whenever I look back, I’m not always sure if I was really listening or if I was just moving along with the beat? Whenever the heat turns up to high it paralyzes my thinking abilities.

When it’s hot – nothing matters but to replenish the waters lost by sweat.

The replenishment comes from understanding the exclamation and quest. My nose and mouth is formed by endless directions of inhalation and consumption. I’m steadily going because I’m constantly having to fight for my life. I’m having to really make decisions that effect what happens next.

Whatever happens is what I’ll have to go with. My heart is promising me – that if I stay faithful to it, I won’t be locked in or caged. Even if I’m placed in a box – I’ll have the key to which no way I’ll be locked in.

Quest & Demand to which I say // See Me again.