9/14/11
Ill Hill Society at The Venue (HNL,HI)
just a snippet...
g.
The Mental Behind The Method.
g.
9/2/11
11/1/10
The Post Interview: M.I.A
10/4/10
notion.
Engaged in ways only dreams could imagine, manifested in a layer subconsciously created lived an entity so abstract. Simply unique but perceived by the other feelings as deceived, because to the isolated there is no way it could be actual. With the continuance of living dependant on its perception, it ignored. Truth or deception mattered little for each breath was drawn from the impact’s core and existing was vital for the supreme purpose is to alert the carrier when pursuance was valid. When it was okay to engage as the fantasy predicted. So it fought, for their goal was everything but what the deeper feeling’s desire depicted. And the goal of this force wouldn’t settle for less, unless the influence would no longer nurture. Ceasing to feed what the carrier not only had, but desperately needs. The life it leads would easily bleed if it could no longer perceive; if it didn’t receive a message daily claiming, it is indeed seen. Suffering from a frustration derived by its reliance on the carrier’s opposite, it constantly stressed the fact that there will never be a control. Its livelihood held captive by what is spoken, written, felt, and listened… embroidered in the communication of the other. Clenched in the hands of what internally, she has already chosen. But externally, has failed to motion to the carrier in dire of need what she carries. The gift in him she gave birth too. The existence she created. The feeling in his subconscious that will never be out-dated, no matter what the outcome is. Lying in the depths, as if the abyss is that entity that will never stray for it reacts each time the creator is seen which is mentally every day. How dreadful… the fact that the carrier is constantly distorted by a soul someone else controls. But doesn’t even know… my, the burden. Remnants of conversation tainting its growth, every attempt to reach out is now golden. Every attempt to be in contact is now cherished, over-analyzed, and fueling the feeling the carrier hopes to never despise. But prays to blossom from this seed planted deep as the ocean to a light the opposite inspired, as if the sun. When the feeling and the being become one, that would be the day. When the carrier would no longer have to relay what it interprets to how it feels, but rather live. And let live, that feeling… that is and will forever be a prisoner to its every notion.
garysatterwhitejr.