An explosion, not from outside, but within. The sound of two conflicting thoughts colliding in the distance. Not a physical distance, but a mental one. So deep, beneath layers of supercilious superficialities and fathomless fathoms. Now, an infinite churning of colours and impulses, desires and anxieties merge into the most beautiful of inconsistent paradigms. A divine paradox has nested in the perpetual gyroscope that sits on the line between conscious and subconscious. This, my readers, my friends, will set the world free.

I dig.

First with a spoon, then a trowel, then a shovel of clarity. Past the confines this reality affords us and through the dead night of living death, for this is where we all reside until the answers grow roots. Deeper still, nails filled with chalk and soot and dreams. Useless...

Please subscribe to keep reading.