Welcome to Gaia! ::

I sit here in stink, wondering how to cleanse. Lavender should help. The witch should know. So much else needs to free itself from created evil. Evil is blame, attributation to the supernatural, when humans refuse to take responsibility. Disgusting. How could this great tragedy occur. So many eyes, watching, proofreading, but miss the hole in the page. Why can they not see? Am I the only one? Those with sight are malfunctioning, colorblindness bred into them. Sameness is their goal, isn't it. The apple is red and I see it's beauty. Can't you feel the ashes raining down on your neck? They are people, reduced to hinderance. No longer beautiful, no longer allowed to be, gone, wiped "clean" to be more pleasing. They say I make my own reality because this one does not please. They are the experts. Mine is not theirs, so they burn, turn to ash. Have you ever seen the beauty of ash? Black and grey, smear as another charcoal. A shadow of the original, no silver.
Broken record, just a record, smashed against the shoulder. Rubble and dust swirl. Flames of warmth shoot out, as do I. Leaving this world to find a cause I can fight, protect. I am useless to him now. Clawing over the chipped obsidian, perfect concoidial fractures. I am not a mineral, nor a compound. Silver water cannot be pinned, moonlight only ridden. Over the black seas I'll find her, the girl that once was, pretty, good, trusting. Why did they kill such a delightful child? Power. Confusion. They love to manipulate. Under their lampshade cloak, they rule supreme. 'God has embued me with...' lies. They simply don't know the powers they speak of. I know that I do not know, that is more important. I will swim on, into the blue. I wish I could take you. The journey is private, the lone wolf howls. Find yourself, discover the truth. These things will make us whole again. We will find her, destroy that ghostly, ghastly bridge. Innocence... I remember it. Long ago, hello. A peek into the mind is a bridge to the corona. Piercing every fiber of stardust. Learning and being. Equilibrium. Darkness and song will guide. No one will be alone, but all shall have their solitude. Solitude, glorious ice. Indigo love in a red sea. Crawling on the surface, life stripped away. Naked and bleeding, recall the old days. They weren't good, but believed to be, so are. Perception is reality, but truth is more real. What is and was should not conflict when speaking of ago. Enhancements take us far, away and closer. Galaxies in my bathtub drain, struggling to be seen, experience, spirited away. Am I a walk in? The unknown is a friend in the light. The darkness is not your foe. Skulls return to their mother, grow in the tree, branching out, helping further than life propelled them, fulfilling their wishes, hopes, and dreams. Acceptance, balance. Balance is the goal. We bargain for more of the grass than we need, starving those born below, in the muck. We deficate on the mucklings and ask why they do not have what we have. We nail them to our concreate and wonder why they don't leave. Do not live this way. Hypocracy... hideous. The hideous have their place, but created atrosities should never be. The right to be is universal, but harm none. Why destroy what exists for something that will only destroy? We feed the fire we flee. Why? Does no one stop and ask why? Why is a word for the younglings, pathetic and stupid with candy and toys. Fun is for the incompetant. Question all. Question me. Question. Apathy plagues her. Supress to be productive to be. You must be. Must be must be. Why? The young know more than we. They remember the old times, when you were still alive and they were old or torn. Self sustaining green and seas beyond sight, only flight.
This is not true. She is losing, yet gaining. When will she regain herself? Climbing out, rags tied in the black cords. Hideous. Beautiful. People do not see. Yellow roses cloud their sight, thorns gouge their sight, truth is lost to them. We've been taught lies from birth, but truth persists, we just have to remember. Inside is larger than outside. Piecing together the sharp fragments, bloody fingers run nimbly across the creveces that we hold. Infinity to behold. Realize the beauty of the slug, without it, no flower can reach, no vine lie, no tree grow. The bottomfeeders are not bottomfeeders. The self-proclaimed on the top are bottomfeeders. Be as much as you can, breeding will not slow you down, but ability should tap your shoulder and be your Navi. The ankle of what was inspires. She goes on to be, but leaves behind what she was, shedding it when it was no longer functional. I am no longer functional, should I shed this form?
Open maws of black, bleeding red, covering all. Drenching the sides, preventing movement. She pours as a dancer. Shimmering before my eyes, I see all that isn't there, but has been there, or is there. Sense? Don't try to make it. It has been taught to you. If I could remember the language of the soul, of the autistic, of my childhood. One glorious revelation, lost the the limitations of my chains. The fire alights burning off the stench, the chains, the food, the sludge, the hatred. It feeds the fire, but the fire does not seek food. It is a cleansing fire, serving its purpose and stepping down, not seeking more than its grass. Born into a bale of hay in a field of hay, how do I help? Learning, experience, do as you're told. Lies are told, do not follow lies. Do not follow. Find my own path. Cutting paths is for cutters, I wish to be. Crawling, leaping, lilting, running, climbing, bounding. We will be together soon.

I don't believe in paragraphs. Besides, it wouldn't make any more sense. Thanks for reading!