Title #773

A Boeing airjet bona fied squirrel 

" I should have wiped your fucking race from the planet when I had the chance you mongrel mud skin fuck."

Who wrote this, if not the god within the realms of unintelligible matter causing robust explainations of clouds and time tables, spread within the soul and soil. Uncontrolled particles sparkling lights full of sensual contacts with particles that disintegrate within a void left for time and pieces to decide,?

I think I know me, I think I know how to get lost within myself, I think people hear my cancer, I think I am the chosen black coin. The Trojan horse rider, with a democratic background, leather straps for good behavior, delta variant with the hay, not a sore muscle in sight; fulfilling the void with voices of paint, remembering sceneries from my past, concluding the present, remaining unforeseen to the path ahead, tune dilleys within my Capricorn daily amendments (foreseen),;, towards heaven my goods rise, towards heavenly abyss I walk in sheath of, traveling paradise travelers with beak baskets - defining every hill they speak on; (concluding opens)?!, ; I have seen the moon tonight and yesterday's morning is nigh again as these horses carry my lively torso. I still ride the nigh. This night is power, this night is light, this horse is a Democrat, this donkey is a Cadillac, this cargo is on plains, this horse has a trojan; we cannot be seen. We walk amber alerted lights. We hide our soul in plain sight. We revolve around each other, all within the shipment each day and night. Going broke as our providers fall cheap, delaying our meals, breaking our deals, derailing our flights, succumbing our plight. We soon see death, dragged to our feet, we sit empty handed, holding basket of roses, for anyone who walketh the door. The door has a horse on it. The hoop stays lit. The common sense contained, with a cat-liked brain, who could be my enemy,.??.

Euros all around us, two pac being sold, death and revival revolutionary revelations, admins on command, decks on hand, pistols and petes, rooting for another beat.

Title #234

Let's analyze this: A dopamine break brings an elegant memory into a deluded, succumbed reality. I think this brings a great point, that the dopamine barrier is not connected to the memory sensors. The dopamine rush may bring about a memory hidden. The further a memory is hidden, the greater the endorphin rush. Endorphin is epinephrine and dopamine combined. Dopamine is artificial drugs. We seek endorphin rushes. Endorphins are linked to hidden memories being brought about at an alarming rate. This rush can make us forget about god and devil, and pursue ourselves. I can attack people's Purity for substantial preservative gain to my hidden memories. I like to hide my own memories. If a feeling develops into something too great, I'm programmed to shut down, and proceed another reality right away. I was made to govern the internet it seems. With Hashu and Dakaru as my formiddable nicknames from father, Saleh Malik Mister N from my brother Obaid-Saleh Malik Chaand from my mother, Shaheen Saleh. My mother is the Y in my life. Always asking why why why how how how why why why how how how why why why how how how. She doesn't love me more than a god is capable of being loved. I need respect, I demand integrity, I demand elegance, I demand life and death in my view. I ask for too much, so the why's and the how's will continue to pursue me until we reach zion. We reach zion daily, but this time it'll be the final one i promise. Stupid angry rageful love from my brother in law, Muhammad Majid Khan The greater good and the gift of a white nationality from Mr. Justin Scott Hickenbotham meeting me literally half way even though I had nothing to offer, Orudzh Samedov The Simple Will to stand up to me, a mexican cadet named Joel Escamilio... I was given the tools. Now the internet is a place I feel safe inside. Words are only so powerful unless placed with faith. Faith requires face. Fatih Seferagic, thanks for the prayer while intoxicated on marijuana and alcohol. I needed that boost to hurt my black heart. I loved you! After arriving at a scene, emotionally, all my faith goes from my face to my left arm. The devil stays in my left leg. I know my heart is in my right lung. I swear by the prophets only to try and offend Allah in my prayers. Because offending myself makes me remember. I was given the black dragon ball in the middle as my only card in life. I stretched the dragon card so thin that now it's a sheer red tear. And that isn't even the magical one. Life is cool, powerfully scary, and I feel like tupac very often. I resurrect Tupac in ezcapechat as DatOneGuy, Nell is someone I touched the shaved leg of in 7th grade during a fire drill where the news of september 11 was also broadcasted. Now the twin towers are something my home is built on. I have died of overdosing, and that is when the internet and the ability for virtual reality to take over my brain was developed. I am an aweesome asset to the world now. My money is given to me in terms of better health. Reality is, that much of our hidden lives are hidden inside others by god. God has no face, so any time we get close, the miracles stop and god runs away. God is really fast at running. I wish I was god so I could own a gun.

My subconscious is THE pandora's box

zane woofer froggyTrex I ALWAYS START OUT DOING SOMETHING AND THEN GET SAD I DIDN'T GET TO DO ANOTHER THING I have 2 days to come up with a new brand for myself. Typing isn't easy to do sober, and without a purpose. But I do have a purpose in my mind this time. I don't think I like pressing Enter so much. I think I am pretty invincible with the right drugs. Being untouchable has its drawbacks. I scold innocent prospective girls. I scold innocent prospective boys. I like to think of myself as a pragmatic preacher. I don't know what pragmatic means, but I am stern and harsh. I am very soft in the things I am not deliberate about. Reading my own typed words makes me have delusions of sleep. I think anyone reading this right now would be bored. But boredom doesn't come without its prizes. Boredom and prizes are closely related. Even being too victorious has its defeats. I notice everyone copying me as though they all have trojan access to my PC. It makes me think delusional thoughts as those come easy for a single man who has experienced sex at a very young age. Early age sounds like high school, young age sounds like pre school. I think all the words and all their sounds have meaning. Only in poetry and love do these meanings have a confinement though. My shoulders are so heavy I could outweigh a pickup truck. I would like some money for doing nothing, but doing so will also make me produce nothing of value. Value has to come from value. I think valve was created on the word value. Half-life was created on the debauchery of 50%. All rappers create their life and meaning around lies and deceit. I doubt they can enjoy the money they make without a tied down will. They can flaunt their money to be unknownst's but those that know them, they will always stay poor in their eyes. Poverty comes from poverty. My father has resorted back to his poverty ways. My mother has resorted back to her evil-genius level good feels. I think the world isn't evil, but the people sure do have a free will. I hate ketamine. I've never done ketamine but I've known someone who died from it and as that, I hate its behavior. I'm scared of lights. I'm scared of claiming god. I'm scared of claiming too powerful. I'm scared of a lot of things. I'm scared of things beyond my control. I am irrational. I feel anxious that I have no partner in life. I feel restless that I have no partner in life. I feel hopeless that I have no partner in life. I find notepad++ a great tool. I find my thoughts to be clarifying of the anonymously tedious functions of my spiritual brain. I don't think my brain has many distortions as compared to the rest of the people in this world. I find unreasonable things produced out of my family members all the time. My sister is probably the most sane. Although she has done insane things to achieve this. I think my brother is very insane. I think I am very insane in the behavior I possess, but my thoughts stay contend during that. I am a walking irrationality. My armpits sweat and stink of the medicine I have been taking. Medicine is usually very weak and doesn't have many effects that are noticeable in my behavior. I've had to take some very life threatening and debilitating drugs in order to perceive the reality I possess now. I don't believe in true love. I believe in true love being real, but I don't support it as though it's some holy grail. One party always is losing, and is fighting an uphill battle, clinging on to their partner for dear life. I think true love is a fictional facade. I just want to relax and write. Is that so much to ask for in this predictably fatal life? Having an audience loses its potency in ability to write. I feel clear headed right now, but if I were in the ezcapechat chatroom, I would lose potency. It seems marijuana helps me clear my head of all the buzzing attention, soak in the positive attention, and leave the rest to God. I feel medicated and spiritual with marijuana. I could write love songs on marijuana. I could do a lot of things on marijuana. But the funding has to be meaningful. If I just take marijuana given to me by the dispensary based on parents' hard earned money... I want to know what my parents are about before I can use that marijuana spiritually and energetically. Or else it just makes me lethargic and leaves room for abundance laziness. I wish a government research project would just locate my words and find me already. And use me for the greater good of mankind by providing me with money earned by villages without water. My nature is bread for true evil. Yet I am forced to abstain from marijuana and other substances not provided by my immediate doctor. Doctors seem helpless in their endeavors. They try to find good in nothing. The human eye is fascinating. It's ability to focus is incredible. I feel inhuman when I have contact lenses on my eyeballs. It feels as though I'm limiting my vision to the human version, and losing spiritual value. I do feel a bit calmer after writing these thoughts down. I'm not sure if it's the vistaril taking effect or not, but I feel more grounded 7 minutes or so after beginning writing. Mentioning I am feeling calmer has the opposite effect, I am immediately shot back into outer space of paranoia and anxiety. I wonder how many innocent souls I have harmed during my days on various medications. I don't blame doctors. I don't blame myself. I blame the means on which this world was built. It's as though god helped me become evil. And the quranic verse of "And we increase them in their evil" (paraphrased) seems to be stuck on repeat. Creativity seems to have an agenda. It's either to raise awareness, raise chaos, or raise something else. But creativity without purpose doesn't seem to exist. I've never seen anybody with any knowledge try to act creative in a manner that isn't befitting to existing categories. I'm not saying all creativity is borderline boredom having fun, or that Einstein quote "Creativity is intelligence having fun." Rather, I'm saying creativity is always with a purpose. Only children get to experience creativity without a purpose. I was a child when I had sex. I was creative without a purpose in that time. I got to experience sex and the physiological and spiritual and psychological effects all at once, without a purpose. I was truly kinged, knighted, made a servant of God, in the God-given magical eyes of spirituality, and much much more. I don't know where or why I was born. I don't know where or why I was headed in any direction. I don't know anything when I think of myself back in that time. But I did know it was forbidden. The door I was opening was forbidden is the only knowledge I had at the time. And I took those steps towards it. I, myself, without a physical force, walked into that door. I wasn't abused or raped as the world repeatedly wants me to believe and has me thinking all my life. Instead, they are scared and weak to admit the reality of what is going on. They are scared of me, and my ability to claim forbidden knowledge as a child, as a child without a purpose. If I truly am kinged, like I will be soon, after marriage... Who is to say I won't revert back to my original self? Nobody knows. As it stands, my weak points claim I am someone without a job, someone who uses illicit substances regularly, am someone who does not seem to respect any body (including myself, based on various PEOPLE's claims), nor do I respect my immediate creators - my parents. I don't respect anybody unless they earn their respect through the rightful ways. What do I see as right? Well that's a mystery that is locked in the pandora box that is my subconscious. It's a shame and all too bad and sad that the world won't have it any other way. I wish I could be told I am valuable and reliable and held reliable and relatable to very very poor in need people. Give me the money of a poor village, give me 20$ worth of marijuana on their behalf and tell me the tools they are working with. And I will come up with a solution that will help all of them. That is my promise to you, me, the devil, God, and the world. But nobody is willing to stake or go on a limb to make sure this reality gets a chance. That is the problem here. And it's a big and massive problem. I'm a scary monster because that's the door I opened when I was innocent. Now, nobody can blame me for this, and it's scary because I'm uncontrollable for that reason. I don't listen to rhyme or reason unless it comes from my own pandora box. I don't trust other people's boxes because they don't know the world and don't see the world and don't trust themselves and don't have the spiritual eyes that were awakened when their creativity was truly innocent. Only I have that. Only I have those eyes. It makes me able to relate to the devil in many ways. I didn't bow to the person/human that I was forced to make love to, or was given the oppurtunity to make love to. I did beckon to a god when I walked out of that prison (sex was an unknown activity that I did partake in bodily but not spiritually). All the energy of what sex does and opens and helps to see, was stored in my subconscious, suppressed by my emotional love for god. I was able to do something evil and still hold god and religion highly. That is the power I unlocked. Can you claim the same? No. Nobody else can. I am truly unique in this. There's a reason why I view names as such prized values and view people as such prized companions and see oppurtunities as something that have to be earned. There isn't a doubt in my mind that what was offered to me was out of the love God had for me and what God was willing to give me and what God wanted me to have. There and then. I've never wanted to have sex again outside of a wedlock because of these reasons. And that makes me truly gold. A gold pony boy. A go-get-it-well-done'er. Sure I am editing my thoughts a bit now, and going back to put in better created words, but they are true. And the edits I make only help them stand out more as the realistic true ideas. My pandora box is unscathed, untouched, unaltered, unmoved, unwilled, over seen, unprodded, unpoked, literally unscathed. And I am everything and more my pandora box stands for. Because it is mine. Mine mine mine. And I have made sure well enough everyone in the world realizes my pandora box stands on top. My subconscious is better than your subconscious is my motto. Does it lead me anywhere? Not really. Does it create for epic and outstanding entertainment? Well, yes. Undoubtedly. What color am I? I'm clearly not brown. My skin clearly does not disintegrate as soon as I'm called an Indian. I am considered a white person inside my own family/household. My dad has many times considered me white and called me a "gora," and my mother doesn't think different of me from a raceless being. Pakistanis and Indians do kind of have the monopoly on culture as different cultures, anyone with any color, or being inbetween the polar opposites of white and black skin tone, is able to relate to each other much easier. Latinos, Hispanics, Brown, Asian, are all able to relate better based on skin tone alone as compared to whites amongst each other (which are a major minority compared to the rest of the colored populations on this planet) and blacks amongst each other (which are not a major minority, but within the Americas they do seem to be). I like to identify myself as the white veiled grey offspring of a scientific experiment that I willingly partook in, knowing it was forbidden. Forbidden doesn't seem to have any negative connotation. Forbidden just means it is unprecedented. Especially to a six or seven year old child. Am I morbidly evil? Am I truly obtuse in my mind patterns? No. I am simply the child that walked through death, because it was offered when I didn't think too much about gravity and on the other side of it I realized I needed to beg for forgiveness because the greatness which has been bestowed upon me requires a toll that is never available on hand. It always is requiring more and more of a toll to unlock. And my pandora's box, mind you, seems to be limitless. I have tried and tried to unlock all of it all at once by getting super intoxicated or super into irrationality, or super into indulgence. But never does my pandora box seem to know a limit. It is truly mind bending what I am. Who I am. What I am. At the end of the day, I am simply a human that possesses the greatest of God-Like creatures' abilities, and the greates of Evil-Like creatures' abilities, both bottled snugly tight fitted into an endless oasis of a potion that was unbelievably man-made, have you. *Sigh*. I feel lighter now. I think I'll go chat now.