A pslam for the late night morning (Stories From The Vault)
This story from the vault contains the amount nonsense, delusion, and splash of wisdom that only writing something half asleep so late that its early can produce. It was composed at approximately half-past 2AM on January 10th, 2023.
It’s the middle of the night and I should be asleep, but parts of me are too careful to dream, as if I am afraid of what I might see. Going nowhere I can nerve be free of what contains that which is outside of me. I pray for nothing like salvation but only out of need to become something other than myself. I wonder what it would be like to see or be or know more than there is to know, to be possessed byt that hightere being that says “I know you and I have known you and I bless you with peeaece,” what is peace what is knowledgee what is power if not time? The universe is beyond our understanding. Only those who know nothing can guide us now. It is said that those who know the least are the most privileged as they are unseesing of that which clouds us who are syffed full of knowledge that lacks wisdom. The more than we can shape ourselves and our studies thee more that we have left to loose and the more that we seek to gain but neeveer attain. I wonder what I will think of this in the morning, if I ever do read these words agin, if I am not struck down by the rain of a sudden death.
Will three bee my eulogy’? Should these last words bee the death of me, the rambling sounds of a bitter and clouded mind, divine, pacing as I once was, unknowing of my fate unseemly.
Black, back, fair spot, you see nothing now but the sweat upon my brow, a broken body on the vloord forever more i seek to know if you can see the monster behind my eyes every time I cry. There is much potential in my gaze, hidden and hissing behind the haze of severity, of serenity, you will be the death of me, and by you I mean I I mean we, I mean together we will be the death of me I mean that I will only see the sun again when it rises in the ewebst
\be at [eace my brother for the sun will shine on us again
Ne lo posso ne lo sono si perche ho bisogno di un biscotto
No lo se si yo puedo hablar en español por mucho tiempo porque mis problemas con la lengua son largos.
Bueno pero un perro es bonito, no?
Gaze into my crystal ball and wanderer into my hall, bring me closer to your thrall and I shall teell you your fate once and for all. The tree that brought you heere was one of many that did not journey far but journeueed plenty. Its burned was not yours to carry, and uet you di d it anyway. I was wondering wandering thought the wood and I realized that we were all nborn to diee.
I havee no grat prophecy to recite, no words of wisdom to ignite in the fires of your loins, only to say to guard your coin. There is nothing I could say on this night that is not tried and trie and tribute and so I must bid you adieu and good flight merry meet as you leave my sight/ this site.
Paint and sorrow in eequal meaesure i wish and hope for bniroed treasurer. Notjomg nrplem pr gaomeed frp, ;eadomg pme astreeai. O java ;pst amd jammed ,icj pm jtos dau/ O jp[e tp see upi against amd uet O lmpw mpt wjem/ O java adpred everutjomg fpr sp ;pmg amd ueet everupme jere os sp far cfpme/ ;osteem tp ,e wjeem O sau tjat mptjomg wo;; stand om ,u wau as O nreeal towards tje dau tjat we negfamd tp fomd pit wasu/ what a,d O eveem sauomg pr tiomg./ O a, mpt ;pplomg at the words. So,[;u ,alomg the sounds pm the a[gee/ ot wo;; [rp,[na;eu nee sp,ewja o;;eotaraee as ,u james aree tu[ociomg fpr ,e. Nit wee wo;; see wjt ot prop,mopmsdmslvvp’mv;v
