09.01.24
The shield man's stop.
It is shut and folded, a moderate inflammation. Empty unguarded walls run, dried-out, dead. Here all the colours bleed; The lost hard expressions within the remnants of not said. Jilted, steady warriors, in an ashen waxy set. He is a fallen man, bearing small meagre things, old things from a drying world, odd things things that even now feel the calling of the hour. A temporaryness. Love abandoned here.
25.02.24
Prayer and morning pages again/ forever final last two weeks with manji?
Manjiism
She had fallen off too quickly, too smashed by the forced fiction; The steady, everyday, non stop,over-pressing momentum of the last 12 weeks. Everything had become outside. Haphazard, and unsteady in the self. Moving too quickly in the agony of electronics and over arching people please. No wonder it had got lost. The artist's voice? The one true rhythm of the self? Those struggles of the reaches with the false base beneath. This is 9-5 fighting.Inside the hammering present, and the drowning of right just to be. MB
get me back to this:
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