The Inner Psychopath

Breathe in. Breathe out. Release. Let go. Slip away.

A torso full of arms floats by. There it is. It'’s a torso with many arms. Between the arms are vaginas. The hands at the ends of the arms are busy fingering the many vaginas. A giant ball of ecstasy. I expect it to seem hideous, but instead I find it beautiful. It is pleasure. I can find nothing more beautiful than that.

The heads. All the heads. The heads all open up to reveal color, sky, ideas hidden beneath the grey surface. Peeling away like potatoes or tubes pumping information in and out. Quiet contemplation as the inside works away taking us farther further. Do these heads all belong to me? It seems so. Heads. So many of them. How do so many heads fit inside of mine? But yet they exist simultaneously like some quantum demonstration. One reveals itself when I try to take a measure. Depending on how I measure a different head reveals itself.

Out pops the eye. Only one. That one eye through which we can truly see. Aye I eye. Just the eye. The filter through which we experience. But the one eye sees all if it sees at all.

Small wonder if I see who knew. Over the hillside to the damned bank of despair. Hoorah to who saw the path. Out with it. Four and twenty resting on the hillside. They'’re just baking doughnuts.

Oh cull toward forming. I spy with my little eye the guy in the sky. Rest rewards for the weary.

It'’s the stag! Spirit guide me through the other of the aethyr either or. Father I have found thee! Take me down the path. Send me on my way.

Is it all BS or do you just not understand?

Maybe. Maybe.