Don’t Blink

Don’t Blink

Don’t Blink – or else you’ll shatter everything around you.

The moment the eye realizes the disease of make-believe // imagination is haunted by the face of reality.

Don’t Blink – unless I’ll break the promise to stare into history past.

The present time is seen to grapple with a future that can’t be removed from my signing eyes.

Don’t Blink – unless the tears will roll from my eyes.

The longer I stare at the trauma that came before me – I begin to understand myself.

Don’t Blink – keep paying attention to the passing pages. I can’t miss out on what’s happening – I wanna be ready for it all.

If I miss what’s been said how can I follow you to comprehension’s end?

Don’t Blink – If you want to be conscious and aware of the real impact of growth.

If you wanna see it as it happens in real-time there ain’t no room for slack or missed information.

Don’t Blink by the frame of seconds to minutes and minutes to hours.

*When reality jumps against you too fast. You thought it was yesterday but it was actually two weeks ago.*

Don’t Blink or else you’ll miss the joke that just swiped past you.

Ever heard what they called TIME that has happened already?

“By the time you learn the rules of life, you’re too old to play the game.”

Don’t Blink or else you’ll silence the words meant to speak to your soul.

Don’t Blink until you win out what was lost.

Don’t Blink – unless you are alive to what will perform in front of you.

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The Lost Beckoning!

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I consider myself as a flower in this present moment.

My blossoming is returning into the favors of appearance.

I’m being studied by the witness of tender charms, She picked me up and has now placed me in her prized vessel.

Will she remember to water me as I am without roots?

The overwhelming influx of attention.

Desiring to be spotted, for your name to be realized in the numbers that endlessly count over and over again.

An explosion of popularity is lost in an instant.

It’s the piercing genesis and ever so present revelation.

NO one actually remembers your strokes, as the canvas was a universe of constant mirrors.

Such Vastness beckons at the true identity of, on the line presence.

The NEW system has culturally shown the interest for sharing in the realms of mirrored puppetry.

By the blink of normalcy, you are beginning to lose the flavor of deeply rooted soils. The vessels shatter upon the grievance of ritual.