Our heads are empty, our bodies an illusion.

We’re downloading our demons, yet we must splinter down to embrace our feelings as this serves as our only real means of penetration.

This landscape echoing in both directions it’s hardships, yes it’s hard. Tomorrow we will all be gone so a carnival of illusions we must parade through, and celebrate the strange beauty of now.

So barely tangible a moment yet on infinity it paints itself wearing robes of green and gold. What will remain when our “permanence” ripens and drops to rot. A wry little smile would be nice.

I create my special spirals of inner worlds in order to reach you, to tell you I’m facing the same mirror as you are, and YES! It is scary, but it’s also beautiful!