Death of Our Sixth Sense
The happening of truth comes from a source of experience that can be explained...manifested. The trials of fallacies exclaims a belief that we are the actors in our actions which derives from our true self, though deep down I frown at the requiems of dreams I have in the wee hours of my nightmares. The haunting feeling to me is that knowing I will never change. I will never subdue... I will never distinguish the similarities of me or the living portraits that reminds me of you. The happenings of Living... Breathing...Smelling...Touching...Hearing...all these lively qualities, the characteristics of what it is to dwell in the cellar of the lively... I will die in the arms of the dead wishing I was lifeless in the happenings of the happiness that I dread...but all that is whispered in jest are just hymns of the wind that bellows below the coffins that sleep soundless in the earth rapture...wait and listen and capture your sense before it is gone to waste...be gone with what is ignorant and keep all that is authentic above soil.
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