AhSS4e (Ahold of Shoulder Straps part 4)
Stories once told this way. To be passed along. Now invented.
Retrieving journal.Pakmer.howtoremove-ahss4e:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
>Via the last year of our Lord;; spilling matrix into the tube,
the laser –
cathode rays towards flash
drives;
me hunched over, the beams reaching that infinite touch of stardust into the isometrics of pipe diagrams, screensaver life, just screen; savor,
life blurred through to imagination; where we behold ourselves….
Today on the tight rope of drama, the vanishing point of us of them in the background graphics, single mode spread (optics) as time & space merge, this fake destiny of fates urging faceward to faint glass, fingering resolutions but commixed into this place gelcoated unstraight, oozing fantastic, melting, (freeze(pops-)(the circulation of visions further, racing the speed of light, catching & reflected; spectrum, before the audience. . . . let’s perform) playstations; thei molding of mankind to fibers of optical illusions playing on towards even more bite-size
Playing on towards even more bite-size like frosted mini-cues
(Well that twidiamond vision; as was-we was tilted into precision as is the way light bend civilization to the extreme processing systemd, but inside cpu's display/monitor/popup/that (¿|?) _[>ower symbol insert> gwey touch, poltrrgeist & electrocutions -whatever the madness;;;; penetrate cyberspace here underlined
But smoother in these frictionless generations of windows & programs operating like ibreaths & deeper pulsations to our every step not in, but without; within without of our realm & the ones we hav created; actually inside screens in a tremendous green omni-science mutated
into this narrator babbling blindly before the .msi rambling reading
Rediculousness just scanned.
Yours truly, two-tone, in the moment looking at, out/the perfect storm clouds barn, no brain-storming/perfect clouds deflect as ithink clouds born on dust and i want to ssay angel's rust,
but angles burst as imonitor triangulates fingernails to be thrust: dll prep shit! & split micro-froze mini/ kit; that slit of cosmic entrails like saucers phew No. No not really/
And Yes she dreams of rain.
Angel.
Opens eyes. Wings. And spreads eyes green, flicking webbings of bloodshot envy/Winds woodened whispered and shx come thru, "you're not looking clear", out the cam of magnifications, glitched in blinks, a touch in separation; shx come (trxxmptxct) past/nights pass
In superfast frustration/With eyes and a blast in their embraces...Watering electrically.
Water in electricity attaches in cranium intersections, static suck protrusions in the way shx looks-over; me.
I returnd, "ithink u hav it". Then the image ruins.
And meteors, metaphors skewer one image in one flash fast forward fasting before me, tosearching_in, definitely heading for a turn, its in the tip of my beam-tongue/oh what was the word? 'whatsIp?'-'you're still as old'.
'As you are a year younger'. . . . Me llamo es Pakmer Typhoon.
Typhoon Pakmer ■'.] told shx