my little diamond in the rough; planned release august 2040

I followed eagerly the berrypickers, and we followed now each-other --- they shook me, hopefully, I them; there is something about these girls, I can not pin-point it, but --- I have entered the citadel of weirdest emotions; for now, I am its denizen, I put the whip on the backs of its slaves, and I wipe tears from the corners of my eyes while doing so... The sky continued to fall out of its womb, the heavenly prolapse... The wetness is everywhere and no avail is spared us, atleast not for this moment, but that feels quite fine, given the situation I find myself in, consorted by two lovely girls into the fearsome, adventurous, unknown... the dream of every honest man... There is an upheaval in mood; time; being... that numinous feeling of setting foot upon thresholds of lucidity in nightmares you by sheer weight of terror never have been able to master or even approach spinefully: I am aware I exist, the forest seem more real than ever, the foliage of the pines itch my face as we cower through thornbush... we slide down mud slopes and rest our battered bodies on the founding stones of ancient and mighty cairns; I have never seen these oceans of oak before, a feeling of adventure befalls me... the dresses of the two girls are now stained with mud and muck: they do not seem to care as long as we are together... half my age, still they feel like mothers in their warm and loving tenderness... laughs and giggles warm my lonely heart... in fact, they look even more beautiful now, shredded as their clothes are, with their fucked-up hair, blue, cold fingers, snot and stains of mushed berries... they look at home, this is their spiritual habitat, and it is so beautiful, the thought of it all... as we rest, something changes... the landscape transforms, anxiety rises like whipping waves to the dam, my reservoirs revolt, but in a cowering, pathetic manner, like children contracting aids from incestuous abuse, disgusting malpractice without end nor beginning, the ultimate perversion, the corruption of innocence... anxiety bend my jaws open in degradation, this is how Eve must have felt, feeling Adam's bitter rancor like the intrusiveness of the rapist, the blasphemous betrayal... even God must have laughed in pity, surely he cringed... I must have ingested some alkaloid; some toxic, inedible berry; some naturally occuring deliriant --- have they poisoned me? Paranoia breeds with excitement, weird mix, I recommend it with spite... I have seen it many times, the raving sun of amphetamine did burn with delirium and blisters many of the people I have called comrades in the past... have they poisoned me? The sun seems more like a judgemental eye now, burning with fiery sarcasm, even though I can not see it --- it is too clogged, the sky --- the grey parapets of the heavens are so dismal, gloomy, sombre I can not for the life of me imagine what lies behind them is any more uplifting... celestial Berlin wall...and the graffitti says 'stay away'.... I do not know... my Theban is rusty... I stare into the unhinged storm of calm --- the face of paradise contorts like children in the furnace waving goodbye to mothers having traded sorrow, desperation and ineptitude for resentment so malignant no return to former shape can even be imagined... this loathsomeness, the overall trepidation, the loss of focus and hope.... I feel sick. Vomit gropes my vellum --- my vellum does not answer with the same intimacy, at least not with consent, so maybe coerced with hostility...a reaction has been provoked: I puke, belch, throw up; I regurgitate gall and berries. I barf like the miserable victims of permanent upheaval of proprioception forced at gun-point onto the decks of ships in midsts of treacherous headlands... my vestibular system, my visual system, the sub-structures of my sense of identity, the sum of my neurobiochemical predicaments throw molotov cocktails against me; everything I have ever believed, everything I have ever held as true, even possible... intellectual toxoplasma gondii paralyzes every subjective truth I claim, and, like a lemmel to the cliff, I wander, in throes of death, toward the ferocity of the feline, its shining teeth, its gluttonous maw, its rancid breath --- old sardines and pure, unadulteraded sadomania... every axiom of my existence grab their purses and keys firmly as they walk through the park of life, at night: my sense of self is locked in the great pillory of despair on some damned hillock lost and forgotten in an ocean of a thousand shark-fins wobbling at the surface... my consorts, the beautiful girls, do not seem to mind, however --- it is a trick. Is it a trick? Enmious, evil quackery... I know it is. Clearly they must be attentive enough as to seem what wreckage I have become over just the lapse of mere minutes! However... I can not lie to myself, childish ridiculousness... I do not know this... how can I take this for granted, I think... on another note, maybe only futile moments have passed... seconds... even less than that... maybe I have lost also this sense of reality: derealization; depersonalization... I fall without rope into the cavern of doubt, I have no friends on the outside and I am sexually assaulted by imps of demoniac psychedelia... small as they are, their sexual ferocity is primatial; only the premier of human rapists could give these fuckers a challenge --- I can not believe any animal would tear a prey apart so roughly as these malevolent forces batter this body --- I swirl like Gods' flushed toilet paper in a vortex engaged in total warfare with the space-time continuum itself... nothing I can take for granted except for the seemingly innate beauty of the smiles I have above me, like two opulent suns showering me in the grace of aesthetic otherwordliness... they utter words now...


having described themselves as the Zorza, or more commonly, perhaps, known as the Zorya --- I feel calmer, for I know what I have encountered.