Gravity holds me here
and speaks to me
tells me that it possesses me
that I will never rise to the surface
I will never emerge from these depths
of twisted pneuma, nous, and neith. . .
Breath constricted, chest rigid
heart pumping against closed valves
heaviness. . .
and heaviness. . .
the world blurs. .
Blackness. . . and sound
Numbness. . . and sound
Hum-like words
words buzzing, angelic
as if they're flung from loose cords
Enochian tongue-lalia
glosso-
la la lia
tightening space. . .
crepitus and blood-tinged frothe
tightening lace. . .
Clarity and softness
""""
I see you've succumbed to your own psychology my son. Breathe. Breathe deep. Get up, let's walk. You've been weak, but that's okay. You did your best, but you could've done better.
You heard the cues. .
You saw the hues. .
You felt and knew. .
But failed to choose. . .
You did not take action, you see. You heard your heart's suggestions, but you chose safety over truth. You chose fear over love. You chose Man over God. You chose matter over mind.
But that's okay.
Go to the third door on your left, pull a number, and wait in line.
