Fixation on art; the other side of the gate

An armed fortress. Scaling walls deterring real-ness. Blindness. Empires of fallen. Colonialization of the mind. Debased. Nullifying the the fractures of tesla mind fragments. Tectonic plates of consciousness beating out from the wings of this moth like creature. Television doom. A drift a headset warfare. Reveling in the exhausted. What chance was there when the downcast commentary funneled through sort of anti mystic trance. Combing the stream for the indelible marks there are strangle marks on the narrowed neck, outstretched open to display. I wonder about this strange segment of outer worldliness. A midst those arced leaves of falling. Though they beg for a new hand at the forefront.


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