and more
and more the "story'
it turns away from whatever story imbued in me...
stories to appease and please the Pharoes of our time
me
the court jester...
telling tales of the might moguls and flsh merchants..
meant to come across as cautionary tale..
on page
except to those who find pleasure in seeing themselves depicted as mighty lords beyond good and evil...
to savour their diabolical schemes and dreams of The New Way..
to a lone gun man
who cares little for his life on a chain...to continie
THIS TIME
for the first time ever
there was in fact nothing one could do about 'it"
as the entire infrastructure was built
as
Nver Again
the films ...the tv ..the non stop noise and tits and ass. and abs and cuts and fades...and themes he had seen and heard and seen and heard had made their impression on him..the facts they had taught him them '''''''it was GOOD ENOUGH for an audience to sense they could FIGHT BACK if only for a few moments ...JUST ENOUGH MOMENT TO TRIGGER a few neuroins HERE and THERE to percieve THE GOOD GUYS ..the everyman can WIN ... via the screens ...the screens the screens....
the entire world literally engulfed in the unseen wireless energy that at any moment could be directed upon them in a way they made damn sure would be ONLY something that could occur
in a movie
so odd...so sad...that
for now
...the Targeted Individuals had no hero in their stories..
...............certainly Myron May was no hero
BUT what if he aimed at the right people..
the people developing these weapons....that seemed to have no source?
what he Myron May had gathered some relevant information ...not the sh*t one finds parceled out outline...
what if Myron may had
said to himself
WHAR,WHAT?
(2)
"and this has to do with what part of the story..we so lovingly enage you in Dumbo..because I am lost..
disengaged" Tru Chrisite graphs
making yes making me see him as Dan Dureya
making that damn gesture
that same damn gesture of staring at his finger nails ...bored
i am bored with
"With what? Bored with taking enough Ativan you're not even ALLOWED to take on Interface ..but still ...we try...
Bored with puffing enuf damn cigarettes to flatten whatever empathic qualities the sheer stress of this was actually activating...but it was scary for a little wuss.."
EMPATHIC abilities..I start thinking...trying to dismiss whatever the intensity of way back...before the ativan -
was..
beyond the syntheitc telepathy ..there was something else going on..
something beyond me..
but now I wonder..
there was this odd synchronicity..
so odd..
to everything..
it wasn't scary..
it was just something inexplainable
..and it was..scary because I'd get angry
and think angry things..when I was "on something'
but the Mandlers sometimes understood..
but I couldn't
I was probably under even more of the monitoring and hastening than..
i shouldnt be rememebring this..anything
good
or miraculous ..or trippy anout all this
it's all gone
i ruined my own mind with the benzos again...and the crack..
and they warned me ..stop stop stop
the crack or just smoke just enuf.
i couldnt
than I start thinking this is all myself
my fault
and maybe it is..
i dont know where this might have gone
maybe it would have lead to the same..
i used the crack to slow my mind down to a still pond of nothingness..
to study "it" studying me..
to bide time
to wait for it to end..
to wait for something to come along
not money
...not the art..
i didnt care about the art
i cared about the story
back when i thought the story was my story
and not something "gifted to me"
given to me..
"wake up" it seemed to insist
this is second to second
write it as it goes through you
do n't lay there..
the story can't wait..
but it did
they were patient...
i was not..
i cant believe i am thinking this way...
back to when i liked it
...loved it i think...
now
now i got what i deserve i cant help but think
but than I think away from it
their story was all I wrote before
all about them celebrating themselves..
and me to write about them liek i said...
fuck no I knew intuitively
this might be the way the world is
but it is not my world
this is not even my mind..
they said it never was
that every single thought i ever had was silent sound ..voice to skull
and I dont know why i know this might be so
except those thoughts i had as a child i knew didnt corrspond
adult thoughts in a 5 year old
all through the day and into night
they shared this with me
it wasnt a rundown
it too was some gift...i was old enuf to know i was an experiemnt..
it was all about being raise din all zeros and ones
in blacvk and white..
there are 24 hours in day
the dystonia was real.
i was injured by them badly.
i could never relate right to people..
it was always their people
boyfiends they set me with
i was always to be Dumbo..
and more the "story'
it turns away from whatever story imbued in me...
stories to appease and please the Pharoes of our time
me
the court jester...
telling tales of the might moguls and flsh merchants..
meant to come across as cautionary tale..
on page
except to those who find pleasure in seeing themselves depicted as mighty lords beyond good and evil...
to savour their diabolical schemes and dreams of The New Way..
to a lone gun man
who cares little for his life on a chain...to continie
THIS TIME
for the first time ever
there was in fact nothing one could do about 'it"
as the entire infrastructure was built
as
Nver Again
the films ...the tv ..the non stop noise and tits and ass. and abs and cuts and fades...and themes he had seen and heard and seen and heard had made their impression on him..the facts they had taught him them '''''''it was GOOD ENOUGH for an audience to sense they could FIGHT BACK if only for a few moments ...JUST ENOUGH MOMENT TO TRIGGER a few neuroins HERE and THERE to percieve THE GOOD GUYS ..the everyman can WIN ... via the screens ...the screens the screens....
the entire world literally engulfed in the unseen wireless energy that at any moment could be directed upon them in a way they made damn sure would be ONLY something that could occur
in a movie
so odd...so sad...that
for now
...the Targeted Individuals had no hero in their stories..
...............certainly Myron May was no hero
BUT what if he aimed at the right people..
the people developing these weapons....that seemed to have no source?
what he Myron May had gathered some relevant information ...not the sh*t one finds parceled out outline...
what if Myron may had
said to himself
WHAR,WHAT?
(2)
"and this has to do with what part of the story..we so lovingly enage you in Dumbo..because I am lost..
disengaged" Tru Chrisite graphs
making yes making me see him as Dan Dureya
making that damn gesture
that same damn gesture of staring at his finger nails ...bored
i am bored with
"With what? Bored with taking enough Ativan you're not even ALLOWED to take on Interface ..but still ...we try...
Bored with puffing enuf damn cigarettes to flatten whatever empathic qualities the sheer stress of this was actually activating...but it was scary for a little wuss.."
EMPATHIC abilities..I start thinking...trying to dismiss whatever the intensity of way back...before the ativan -
was..
beyond the syntheitc telepathy ..there was something else going on..
something beyond me..
but now I wonder..
there was this odd synchronicity..
so odd..
to everything..
it wasn't scary..
it was just something inexplainable
..and it was..scary because I'd get angry
and think angry things..when I was "on something'
but the Mandlers sometimes understood..
but I couldn't
I was probably under even more of the monitoring and hastening than..
i shouldnt be rememebring this..anything
good
or miraculous ..or trippy anout all this
it's all gone
i ruined my own mind with the benzos again...and the crack..
and they warned me ..stop stop stop
the crack or just smoke just enuf.
i couldnt
than I start thinking this is all myself
my fault
and maybe it is..
i dont know where this might have gone
maybe it would have lead to the same..
i used the crack to slow my mind down to a still pond of nothingness..
to study "it" studying me..
to bide time
to wait for it to end..
to wait for something to come along
not money
...not the art..
i didnt care about the art
i cared about the story
back when i thought the story was my story
and not something "gifted to me"
given to me..
"wake up" it seemed to insist
this is second to second
write it as it goes through you
do n't lay there..
the story can't wait..
but it did
they were patient...
i was not..
i cant believe i am thinking this way...
back to when i liked it
...loved it i think...
now
now i got what i deserve i cant help but think
but than I think away from it
their story was all I wrote before
all about them celebrating themselves..
and me to write about them liek i said...
fuck no I knew intuitively
this might be the way the world is
but it is not my world
this is not even my mind..
they said it never was
that every single thought i ever had was silent sound ..voice to skull
and I dont know why i know this might be so
except those thoughts i had as a child i knew didnt corrspond
adult thoughts in a 5 year old
all through the day and into night
they shared this with me
it wasnt a rundown
it too was some gift...i was old enuf to know i was an experiemnt..
it was all about being raise din all zeros and ones
in blacvk and white..
there are 24 hours in day
the dystonia was real.
i was injured by them badly.
i could never relate right to people..
it was always their people
boyfiends they set me with
i was always to be Dumbo..
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