If your brain had an interpreter. It would probably say this..,

This is your brain speaking, let me tell you something!

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Similar to a mouse in a maze, every thought has its own direction. It’s own avenue of cause and effect. From the moment u receive a question or attempt to solve a puzzle. The mind begins traveling down that maze. Attempting to place ration and order to your thoughts. Making them clear and understandable to the listener.

Articulating your vision to the listener as the mind takes itself through all sorts of twists and turns. Things like sentence structuring, logic.

As it Focuses on cohesion. Attempting to explain in great detail what it is your talking about. Your VISION! As you see it.

Word selection, memories of how the color blue makes you feel sad. That sadness associated with pain or the color of your first car. Blood is blue, but it turns red when it meets oxygen right? right.

Stay focused!!!

I haven’t even mentioned circumstance, environment. The effects from anxiety or depression. It’s amazing we’re understand at all. The brain make 38 trillion operations per second. Just a simple reminder of how beautifully complex it is. Imagine the mind of its creator. Thank u for reading.

Fuck your opinion. Here’s why

Fuck your opinion, a sad truth. Let me explain why.

  Worldview concepts have always interested me, even as a boy I had a “natural” understanding that everyone has their own worldview.  One of my earliest moments I would come to realize this..

Would be when i was having a conversation regarding a music artist by the name of the late Tupac Shakur (killed in 1996) The discussion came about because the subject of cloning seemed to be the topic of the media at the time, news, magazines ect.

In the conversation one thing would lead to another and before we knew it someone would ask “what if Tupac was cloned” followed by “would he be the same kind of music artist”? Furthermore, would he be the same person? Everyone shared their opinions, mostly expressing their worldviews. But no one seemed to address what I thought was the most important point.  Which was, since environment dictates behavior, values, and dramatically influences personally, and quite frankly being significant contributor to one’s worldview. The answer would certainly be no! Or so I thought.

I’m not sure if my being quite younger than everyone involved in the conversation effected what happened next or perhaps at that time I didn’t openly express my point well enough. Either way, everyone would nod their heads in agreement and continue as if it had no relevance.

And as a result of that experience, I would shape parts of my worldview, somewhat believing that perhaps that point wasn’t valid enough or that my thinking was somehow irrational. It wouldn’t be until later when I matured, becoming well versed in the subject as it relates, would I find that not only was what I mentioned supported by facts. But was also very relevant to the topic of discussion. Based on the fundamental laws of psychology.

In closing, Good or bad. That experience would help to offer insight and facilitate in the cultivation of an idea, one showed me that I may be naturally gifted in the area of philosophy and/or psychology. And ultimately helping me to better understand that everyone has a worldview. And despite facts or evidence if the “truth” as you see it is not consistent with someone else’s worldview. It may not be embraced.

Fuck your opinion! Here’s why

Fuck your opinion, as sad truth. Let me explain why.

                 Worldview concepts have always interested me, even as a boy I had a “natural” understanding that everyone has their own worldview.  One of my earliest moments I would come to realize this..

Would be when i was having a conversation regarding a music artist by the name of the late Tupac Shakur (killed in 1996) The discussion came about because the subject of cloning seemed to be the topic of the media at the time, news, magazines ect.

In the conversation one thing would lead to another and before we knew it someone would ask “what if Tupac was cloned” followed by “would he be the same kind of music artist”? Furthermore, would he be the same person? Everyone shared their opinions, mostly expressing their worldviews. But no one seemed to address what I thought was the most important point.  Which was, since environment dictates behavior, values, and dramatically influences personally, and quite frankly being significant contributor to one’s worldview. The answer would certainly be no! Or so I thought.

I’m not sure if my being quite younger than everyone involved in the conversation effected what happened next or perhaps at that time I didn’t openly express my point well enough. Either way, everyone would nod their heads in agreement and continue as if it had no relevance.

And as a result of that experience, I would shape parts of my worldview, somewhat believing that perhaps that point wasn’t valid enough or that my thinking was somehow irrational. It wouldn’t be until later when I matured, becoming well versed in the subject as it relates, would I find that not only was what I mentioned supported by facts. But was also very relevant to the topic of discussion. Based on the fundamental laws of psychology.

In closing, Good or bad. That experience would help to offer insight and facilitate in the cultivation of an idea, one showed me that I may be naturally gifted in the area of philosophy and/or psychology. And ultimately helping me to better understand that everyone has a worldview. And despite facts or evidence if the “truth” as you see it is not consistent with someone else’s worldview. It may not be embraced.

I Hit The Lottery In The Most Unlucky Way!

Let the magnetic force of opposites show how lucky has no favorites.

She looked so peaceful the way she fell, head slightly tilted back. Shoulders and arms lifelessly dangling, eyes closed. I can still smell the sent radiating from her long and beautiful, vibrantly pink shaded hair.

And how could I forget that blue dress she wore.

The one with the two year old spaghetti stain and the white strip across the bottom. It was a gift from her dad who had passed 7 years sooner, so she could never rid herself of it.

Plus it accentuated her beautiful legs and strong broad shoulders. Everyone loved it.

But it wasn’t until she hit the floor did I realize what was happening. You would have thought the floor had open arms patient and pleasantly positioned to catch her, by the way her body effortlessly fell into it.

Loud sounds like fireworks blasting off,

screams then panic! In an instinct it all happened.

Tying to remember only the beauty yet forever haunted by the ugly truth. It would be our very last time waking up together, holding hands.

Sharing a milkshake while looking into each others eyes. The last time she would tell me she loved me.

❤️And I her❤️

The bullet piercing her right temporal lobe, causing her head to tilt and eyes to close.

I imagine her last thoughts before hitting the ground were of our love.

I usually awaken at this point. Angry and sweating, breathing and pulse elevated.

Alone forever I am reminded, as I stair at this empty space where she would lay.

We would talk tirelessly about growing old together.

An idea suffocated by a disillusioned, maladjusted, sociopathic, disgusting organization . A terrorist.

One who’s only job was to terrorize, dishearten, destroy and divide the world.

Her name was Carrie you basted!

I love you Carrie.

A Darker, Deeper Side To Why We Pray

Illustrating a darker side to why we bow our heads and give thanks in prayer.

As the curtain Slowly falls to the floor. All we have done is injected intelligence into our animalistic behaviors. Allowing the killer within us to evolve and become increasingly more efficient. Fine-tuning our methodical Nature.

All while violently choking compassion and empathy, smiling as they slowly suffocate.

Strangely as my neurons fire and as I desperately attempt to clarify and express my thoughts to you (the reader)

I am reminded of how Jack the Ripper mutilated the bodies of his victims. Doing it in a manner suggesting that he possessed knowledge of the human anatomy coupled with surgical experience and a high IQ aptitude.

Disgusted, as I Describe parts of his character as if it made him more then a sociopathic killer.

Knowing how to kill a thing shouldn’t make you interesting, and not having killed it yourself makes you no less guilty.

Just because we round up and kill live stick in a civilized manor, does not make us civilized.

Or does it?

Joy naturally wants to give praise and say thank you. Even as warm blood drips from our hands after a hunt. Survival being our only needed Justification.

How twisted are we that we praise killers, crucify the innocent, kill for profit and beg an all loving God to aid us in victory. Amen

Death, in 42 Words.

Is death as ugly as our fear has painted it? 42 words, beautifully positioned.

The surprise element of death keeps us in constant arousal, secretly exhilarating us!

Taking pleasure as endorphins free themselves within our brain. This perverted fetish of a mystery forever lusted.

The undisclosed force that gives life true purpose.

We will meet!

The Life Of A Whore

The walking shoe’s of a Whores life, you wouldn’t last a minute. Here’s why…

She lies on her back, only the feeling of numbness comforts me. It would appear I was a lifeless corpse, should anyone dare look down this darkened drug infested alley. A place where men take pleasure in my misery.

With every thrust, I feel less than a person. The smell of his breath and cheap cologne reminding me of hell.

As Spit drips from his open and likely disease infected mouth. But those were positive signs after all. Signs that it was almost over.

Followed by moaning and the sound of organism. Finally! It was over!

Said the small voice inside me. The one I never share with anyone.

As he pulled himself out of me, buttons and zips his pants. Reaching deep into his upper shirt pocket, grabbing what sounded like loose change as he casually and carelessly let it fall from his open hand and onto the ground.

You would have thought he was feeding a lost puppy. So effortless in his demeanor, but it wasn’t a lost puppy, it was for me. The nobody. None the less I instantly dropped to my knees, gesturing as if I were praying to God.

Trying desperately to collect every bit of currency underneath the flickering light of this darkened alley.

What little pride I had left, as I reached for scraps would instantly be repressed by the hunger of this addiction being feed. This itch being scratched, the sickness taken away! The thought of heroin coursing through my veins!

This long-awaited pleasure of freedom and relaxation that I feel after every injection! It was here. PEACE, FINALLY! And when this 30 minute high is over the gods’ press rewind, and I do it all again!

My life is worthless and no one cares!