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Maybe he’s behind, over the wall... These voices, are they real or results of my imagination?
I can’t understand whether this is matter or mind, stupid mundane talk and this is the only certainty.
I’m being run after, haunted by vain, petty, philosophical discourses, how paltry are the minds of those we beget them and now even here in this heart of mine, in my place, in this shithole I’ve got, they’re busy, hyperactive and mighty hysterical, unchecked!
My mind is packed, taken up with human concepts, with stories and pointless truths with certainties and so far such I’ve deemed they were, although now they don’t do anything but nourish my fears.
Any certainty vanishes, all efforts made till now have been vain… for the truth can neither be begotten  by one single man nor read, studied and abridged in a book. This is the path we want to take, I have no options, this is the course of action. I have to, I want to break free, to split off from everything that is worldly, for in matter and flesh I can’t find anything novel, but only what is cyclical, the reoccurrence of centuries of history…
It’s in the ether, in the divine, intangible form where the truth lingers a thought so far from what I know and for which I can’t conceive a question
I am beyond the looking-glass.....I am beyond myself…
I recognized myself, everything dawned on me in a jiff, the moment just before the nothing, I saw.That being altered in shape and smell.
The stench of gangrenous meat.The viciousness that stems from desolation.
I let myself down, I got cloven, separate from the “self-survival” instinct, from the world of myself, I haven’t nourished, revered and welcomed my flesh anymore because in this REALITY, in the new truth, they are dead, wiped out in the mind and rotten in the body.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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