The All-Telling Tale : Mythic development with intent to distribute

Keeping conscience codified and corruptible.

time_2551_300Self-annhilation couldn't be more communicable. Don't trust the breaks in thought; they are expandable.


Chasing After Oneself

So the vague dissertation assents itself, amidst a mass of distant aims protocoled to steady myself proportioned and practical to navigate myself by the moon and obsolete to foot candles anyway?

So, I can navigate by the shadows Soon to lust over magnates and margins, and scholarly appeal.

Fuck the medium. I want something absolving to anywhere I find a phrase to f(l)ame the filename upon which I assemble m,y equilibrium.

So far away I stay

In the registers of religion

And the aches of ambiance 

Oblivious to me

“If all you had was a hammer”

Every syllable stressed is just like the rest. Opaque. And such woe collective angst for a strain of what I measure in “heard before” and you rattle your twisted tongue in mockery of vogue catalog of condition.
Another rendition of the same song and appliances of the same rhythm
So go around the world coughing up the spam language and zealot yourself amongst a statute of consistency that makes sounds clang in my head so I never hear the words.

February 28th called and said you .l0st

Nothing incredible. Just a hammer to stake you to all the scores of trial for my comeuppance, standard style with no issue of weighted paper to warrant you your wealth of plagiarism when all you have is a hammer. Try again. Try to compendulate the dial tone of murmurs that you were the arrest of invelopment… Proving nothing worth the satire of grit that shines like staples to a shredder. Oh well the best be taken slightly, almighty the thunder when it shook me second best to beat no name to number, no taken notice to the gavel I wonder wrest.
And the course I plot be soon forgot it’s inevitability, to swear by the curse of words I bear in the breaking of trust in humanity fails me, feeds me wasted time and forgoes all interest to fear me forming the make of means to motivate myself extinct to the habit of whole feeling harnessed by a nail I never drew in making your forever moresoless than accounted for in my heir of all-claiming duty to denouement , myself a surrogate of wait and still not see a beacon of brightness more Thrilling than the dark of darkness sobbing my intent to inherit you as I must be the asking price of saving anything that needs less than I thrive to own you mine own WORD tendered to the distance that takes me back to the tapestry of timelessness toting my book of broken sources to claim nothing but a break broken book, latched through and through all the holes that nails have driven for you to know my hammerbornchisel that knives fork and windows arch

My chiselsunassai
Rikki Made

Everlasting life a punishment
And the greatest of ever wanting something so sworn to deceive her, a king. Ma-king nothing to know her true and through the itzktzotziyzkgπŸ’Œβ€οΈπŸ‘™πŸŽ½πŸ‘–πŸŒ‚πŸ’πŸ’†πŸ‘‘πŸ™‹πŸŽ©πŸ‘–πŸ‘˜
I hope you fall off the face of forever like a needle I thread to be read by mass.

No words now

Just the script

I’m betting on Sunrise

Rikki was where she said she’d be. Mulling over the epitaphs of things irregrettably undone, and fastened to her mind were all the pages she never printed and the canvas she imprinted with no date for fate to fulfill her unrest for the want of closure. So, by and by she sped the space of indenture to everyplace she raced for nothing that needed her πŸ˜žπŸŽ‹πŸŽ’πŸŽreally , but to be read …. And a story so wanting to be written … That it sifts through seconds to shed time altogether a token of where she meant……

“Unlearning dead information”

So the
Permutation of a parameter reaches the (let’s say) altar of all-reaching everything graspable…
And took aim at the infinite discovery of optimum omniscity to feel the draw of unknown in words grown to saturate the diagram of place and time whence “when” was unobservable. As so the pinnacle collapses to form a curve to hold between two points a segment distended into accessibility of all points accessible to mind me and u a square that makes up everything contiguous with space non replaceable and a future that is never unforeseen, as you know what I mean, Amin.
Configuration obliteration, absolutely. Unerasable.

To Have and To Hold

I woke up ontop of you,

the world spinning beneath us

And the Kingdom Came calling thy name.

And Heaven held to harness me, your wrath

breaking me out of body and mind

[And the whisper of your breath

made of wordless words told me nothing

I knew not fashioned by your mouth

the holy sound of prayer

to shake me from my soul

to listen;

the beast burning

and the torment of fire

passion wrenched

to last let you free

to tell unto me history

as the God, proclaiming King

passed through possession of you

and the stage set to save you


There is no sacred space for me to build my dream; unimaginable. And no stellar face to eternity welcoming me. Only chaos crashing and space compressing to collapse me.
But each seam I dream is fixed against time and fashioned to feel me unrealized, try by try, has hell hath to fumble me decomposed and irrequisite

I’ll give you some RAM

The exponent function of intellect broke the quantum calculator, now physics must reboot and quasi-contemplate compute on an accumulating scale of accuracy accelerating meticulously deviant of variables and indefinite functions of consumable consistency vailing
in value the construct of complexive quarks, not inspired to collect deteriorating data and aspire to exceed the rate of random at its access to memory and empower the future with the most rapacious configuration of aspects in conjunction with a hypothetical assumption that intelligence itself is really dumb.

At last, a discoverable map of maybe

Still stands directed. As if space were misplaced and fluidly sky’s were here assembled by eyes to hold him true. At last…. Ing… Lust. Lost llllll a light so tight it circled me so tightly that I knew (w)rite through the end of you. And all shattered the shell of an elliptical vail that trusted me predicted as weather… Or post AC … BC. DVD …
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Words, teeth, lips and tongue…

Were tasteful of what you read.
Try and translate me.

Everything you didn’t want to know

… Was written somewhere and predestined for posterity to fasten to an image still pixelating… Or aiming it’s glance to memetic ally mate me to your memory and discover me as something you were thinking all along.

Fragmenting me into obstacles of eternity over-stretching to seize me aspects of Internet intersecting to measure me in angles as to how my attention draws itself in curves.

Defragmenting the policy of convention v/a the collective chasm

How dark is a quark anyway when subjected to me?

About as confinity as my quantum we’d on speed “collectively”

Maybe THAT’s the question u should ask Simi.

The means to “shipmate”

I appreciated in value, the dusk of rust colored remnants of “so far, not true” and read unto you my registry of repair, and where I “fused the future with technology encompassed by a vacant stare as to where I occurred to enter naught and roamed the tape-stry… As a tree with/9iut roots to redirect my face to the glance if your grace and I suit you now a name to agent me the recovery of all my fill in the blanks thanks for my encouragement.
Now I return to the realm of “real meant” and I scene to dream a drape to tape to a structure that wore me like the taper if a wind could resend my annulment.
Wrapped up in all my modalities, I impair the quartz in your watch to dock me intellectually .

Try me.

What if the sunlight doesn’t bend right,
And my summon of seasons light darkly
If not for the wayward curve of lessons weighted slightly west, the rest of my dim return to reason, all avail the seated slight of paper and a writ to question your Maker, the rule of all words bending to suppress your gait.
So as fate goes to arm you it’s slung guilt, does not the appellate wand wave it’s sparkle to course me all feats of feature formed to fancy me a hapless rift of facticity~ lead me battered and born restless spurning righteousness to the left of things beside the road.
Lift your ignorance to defend me.
I plead perfectly the pose of posterity. Hung. And slave the conscience to draw me the criminal of cost; that I be the nonchalance of Justice as she straightens my crown and I dine on the demons that will me to sufferindemnity to publicity and deem Doubt the opportunity to seize me instrumental provocating a pause in the break between real and fake, if you’re asking.

In all your phases of togetherness, I hold you; indifferent as you are
To meld me
Into the shape that held me yours.

Decipher me indigenous to what came before.0