around this time last year when i was at the island and yeah camping and my note pad stolen in moldy back pack which i wrote down the exact details and memories . going into the state of mind of a certain person, a rapist and how it wouldd be like im going out to the bush to get away from my wife so i can jerk off in the bush and wait till my wife leaves the house and come back and rape my kids
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a man and yung girl holding a double bass seemed to be reading my thoughts or were sending me telepathic messages telling me what i have to do to survive. like my thoughts have power to destroy or peace? acid trip age 14 coming back to me. telepathic communication. i see them closing their eyes and praying their faces change as my thoughts do. two other people on train are also reaading my thoughts like waiting to say, she doesnt get it or how long it will take with a sympathetic kind of smirk. tho seems serious in the sense if i dont understand this then i will be murdered? tho is it all a scam for something more serious? or the cover ups that is child incest blue blooded that r destorying the earth but think its actually good thing to rape your daughter? either way i am travelling solo through this hell ridden tho will continue the fairy tale ...
the impetus of a baby dying death at the head, death at the feet one to die so another can live a sacrifice passed on // spotify playlist for the surgeons // i said thankyou before being knocked out by the anastehtia which is like saying i was thanking the baby for giving me the wisdom and lessons for the time it nurtred me in my sack // at the ocean writing down goodbye knowing once the tide came in the ocean waves would wash the words away and the baby would go back to the ocean to be then reincarnated for a lesson its wisdom already so potent the thought that the baby was already was from being in my womb while i had such thoughts of clarity nurture and maybe a real since of peace of perseverence or being beyond grateful to live a carefull life growing plants and the feeling of soft water and an echo i love you olive and what is suffering my memory of the hot night in the desert
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