: : B R I D G E : : : Re-Cover, like the life worth living as a dead body...SMILE through like the blue paint aimed at redesigning the realizable blue of sky...It's just of fucking easy like insta-empowering in that way....fuck off while pretending one is magically fucking on....the authority and all without the work towards a mind who went through the rigors of process...I mean as long as the play of power is in the mirror...fuck it....fuck her....live like the living dead....summer of love, love, love....pretend....desert as dessert...when the moon hits your face like a biggga pizza pie.....American PIE.....shit stained glory of death...Live it up...all that money....the "son" has your back....SHINE....WHITE LIGHT.....WHITE CASTLE....DESSSSSSSSERT for the DESERT....do you get it...fuck it....who cares, smile and pay later.....a body among bodies, a "family," all that is needed to follow our obliteration into the light....love with all you've got, no need to question the construct...just fucking love...the mirror saves even as it kills....smile...He cares so much about you even though he prefers your death as you live.....shhh, don't question...find everlasting life in death....It's just so fucking easy because you care so fucking much.....

of which the mirror mirror will never understand our relation. Imagine it. someone homeless...on the grid, you think, suffering and yet they aim to protect the heart among a palace. You shadow language....your opportunities, you follow among the visuals at play, and yet, she had no eyes...You consider, upon the colonial cultivation...and yet, the construct, not a construct, but rather an absolute, like a gutteral cry, a scream, a suffering, a rememberance of who you are being lost for a moment, a glint, among this rock spinning around fire, a fear, a desire, a need to love, regardless of how lost how evil that may become....could we even fathom among the smiles, among the safe and sound feeling that is simply there to abandon, to find a matter of security and yet, what could that actually mean in relation to that of which you never created....to nest in relation to the mirror play, would that be a nest, or would that mean a pile of wood and you at the stake...like a white light lie....striving forward, like a fly to a bug light....you are at the gates and now through....could you even fathom ever being played with such adherence to those who make you "feel" so safe, even when upon a sobering realization...around fire, no, you are not among this manifestation, so why pretend? Oh yeah, like grimes, the seats are empty and the theater is still dark, so why do you keep dancing.....like cars for fears and tar for tears...there is a layering understood which need not involve the literal, and yet to be so literal. To embrace the bodies in the mirror, to find love....a stairway....an obliteration of angelic nothing discord...and yet to remain in that way, as safe. By all means. Play it by the law of averages...smile...pretend...no need to question or critically engage...no need to follow the very death of your so-called living...just smile, pretend, and run from the very opportunity to reconnect...Smie while dying, proclaiming to find everlasting life. It will be the end, and yet, you will find a living desert of death living...to pretend...a warrior on strings...a workout session for the body of mindless disregard looking the strong part...all will work out in your favor and yet that wouldn't be the case at all...pump the iron by all means. All matters, ironed out, entirely of which among the cosmetic props...among the sun that affords the act as the rock spins...your version of victory awaits....like candles on a birthday cake...the fire of such wisdom among your visual of successful endeavor...your emergence from a womb of which you did not create, yours entirely...a time to celebrate...A time to remember among the newer emergence that will not remember. It's all yours, cosmetic glory and all....by all means I wouldn't want to get in your way...smiles and all...To understand in this fashion...to succeed in this fashion, to embrace the very construct of love, like an ephemeral nothing, in this way...Smile blue paint for blue skies...you are on your way, like effervescent bug guts to blue light...shine on...floyd the barber, sweeny tood...catch the meat among the bread, at tuppence...a spoon full of sugar makes the medicine...no need to question, just goosestep toward your living, nice-nothing, all is good, death.