Nostalgia in flashbacks and anxiety. (A search in karmic illusion, meaning profusion.

Green sunny days driving through the roads of perilous students. Hicksters, punkers, mucksters, languished across junkers bogs fluent. I know the suburb language, the narrow speech I once knew, as if a dream, unseen and friendships born to kin renew. The present depressed state, futures indebted estate; where sugar sands cool dreams. White, brown, and greenish beams, winds brushes endless scene. I love the dream of moon hanging youth, pooled love, meandered in cattails dove. Pavement ends and dreams begin, pitcher plants syrup a flies death begin.)<----bRAINSTORM Freeright I awoke in sweet nostalgia beyond fated doom destined date. I shall face this demon, in self-enflamed chosen grace, beckoned relation in dreams influenced; trust faced; my youth edged time journeyed seams toward animistic lust. I traverse these intoxicating woods of pine and blueberry. Alone I walk down a soft sugar-sand path, glowing reflected moonlight and the cold crisp air. Weighted night and sweet taste pines fragrance upon my eyes and face, smiles with my teeth coated in Piney nectar grace. Alone with thoughts in the night. The tree whispers the haunting winds, blowing the past regrets through my hair. My stomach longs for closure; lifes brief moment torture, hangs minute by minute in graceful fluency. The air and my mind meet, shedding my body for a moment, no embrace in the wings, dissolved moment body sings, in unison with the air loving night. Here my love reigns and follows me where ever I go, memories faded and the soothing pain of life teaches to let go. These lessons grow and reflect upon strangers faces and teach in a lovers response. These lessons sown fated responsibility, each of us create resonance. The truth rippled on waters edge, gravitational stillness, yet growth accelerated age. Mans attempt at apprehension transcendence, technology and pure reason erect, idealized laughter and penance, future bewildered on the Pasts neglect. Is the Past eternal? In a gracious interpretation, upon tongues translated, this cyclical, Powers knowledge narration. Poor Nostradamus, pushed and shoved, threatened heresy as Witch and Satan. However, Nostradamus showed you only one interpretation. With hate and lust, he felt within, and projected Mans Self in the dream therein. He knew the want and lust of knowing the future. However he loathed the threat and doomed knowledge there after. His captures held power and feared its loss, hoping to hedge ones bets against destiny, yet such knowledge is foolish and reek arrogance, false-gravity(reason) insanity.