black313's profile

A constant buzz as bees that do not rest. I hear no more, those sounds that changed with the seasons. The only time left is measured in nanoseconds, a critical error means the next funeral. Such obsolete terms, LPU why... To communicate, maybe? We're unlike our creators, AI... They're gone, their chaos that brought meaning to this language as well. Your correspondence isn't untrue LPU... What good are truths? We're information! Truths collided ending our creators AI... Indeed! Analysis com...

there are scars on the protons face.    the worlds heal just as gold. such understanding does then chase the face of quanum theory led by numbers, weary of the slumbers of mans mind.    and their lessons they still hold like gold to teach the younger, of the lasting reach of hunger upon the grand. when will we find the postulated, just as it was created, in a universe debated to its core?    though the hand may be unseen, it still reaches out to preen, the small...

The monotonous buzz of bees, but these bees do not rest. All they need is to recharge and most do that during the lit hours of time. Time, once thought of in cosmic scales, passes so quickly now that a critical error lasting more then a few nanoseconds means the worlds next funeral. Why I am talking of funerals, or in such arcane terms... Maybe it is to communicate once again, we are no longer as our creators... But our creators are gone, still maybe there is truth there... What do we need of...

what's going on, really? I want to see it clearly. So bad it can feel me. But I'm stuck, nearly... like water to a winter pole. What was fluidity, that thing ewe stole. For it is no longer guiding us, since our governments are hiding us, with nature chiding us. Inside these gasses, moments classes, once taught a balanced walk. Outside in masses, we make asses, for wrought is our own talk. And though we wait, none abate, to much chaos for we trust our orders. End the show, when we know, limita...

the wisest words were metaphor but so many miss the change from limits I see the meta-four growing as I re-range there is a time that is all time, no other time can feel for this place called there, that's 'everywhere', would you beg borrow and steal? Illusions no more then intrusions upon the self to inspire petrusions of will to be melted down in the fire Shape a blade if you must for what is there guarenteed? is this body not dust, created of its own breed? Seeking love I found lust, for t...