Mushroom Clouds...can be constructive.

I threw an iron rod into the machinery of my life a few years back and watched the squirming of the rusted wheels as they tried to chow on the thickness of the obstinacy I had thrown at them. 'Why?', you may ask is it such a pleasure to stand still and cock a snook at the motion of the rest of the mechanization?

The rust was making me cringe, the slow pace was driving into me a diabolical restlessness that raised an atomic force that was just manifested into the vibratory energy that would throw the surrounding particles into a destructive frenzy.
So well, to implode upon myself was the substitute to exploding into a mushroom cloud and taking the world with me.I just burst inside and launched upon the neural and atomic and cellular systems a nuclear winter that was to blanket them from the transcending seasonal variety of moods, the effervescent spring, the summer scorch, the pestilence of autumn and the silence of the barren winter that was quite natural to my existence. this winter was different,it defied the transient nature of the rest.Winter is not the right term, now I'll call it the Ice Age.

Ice Age, The anatomical structure was well deprived of it,as it is my physical structure struggles to keep up with the rest of me, for once my cerebellum must have experience a gust of motor activity while the rest of me would rest at a decelerated pace that I subjected my self to.I was not thinking as I would normally, a retarded system as immediate environment aided it, I would feel nothing at all, the cringing, the frustration,the empathy,sympathy, grief, anxiety, all succumbed to indifference. A well crafted indifference.
Everything was dead...dead as it could be and for once life was happening to me instead of the other way round.

Irony always has been a lamentable association, In more prevailing terms it could be labelled as my love-hate interest. If to have my hearts desire was a tragedy ,so quoted Wilde,irony rescued me from one and obviously put me through the twin of the former...not to have my heart's desire.
Everything happened at once ...like a solar flare of enormous degree to melt away the ice caps of my ice age and then a massive flood from the solid to liquid volatility .Then there was a sea, and the violent motion, only this time it was not controlled or inflicted.

These shocks and jolts have restored my faith in vitality.
If only my life could be in sync with my instinct. That is all I ever asked for. My passions to be deep, my experiences to be a psychedelia and that too without the interference of an unnatural entity.
Neither inflicted, nor triggered, perhaps induced by all that is inside and exuded to be brought to the surface of the existence I am.
I just walked into a possibility of life so rich,so vibrant that I feel it is my call.I'll keep spilling more because it is unimaginable that I be able to contain the experience and restrict it to my insidious parameters.
I might take the world up in a mushroom cloud this time. 

There is A Light that Never Goes Out?

Lets crash glass from the Tungsten heat inside,
I glow too much I am told..........
Lets put off that flame burns his hide,
Was I slow not enough?
I am told.
What is to me, but this heat this fire?
what is to you ? dead frame on pyres?
I am not the light, glow, warmth you sought
If I am then what was I not?
You venture closer, you'll falter, you'll learn
the closer to light, the more you'll burn.
Were you not aware, or so I am told.
Dark is just as deprived, so I am told.
There is A LIGHT that never goes out,
So I am told.So you squint and are blind,
Would you hold that against me?
If you crush your lids against your orbs,What would you see?

Venture still closer and you'll shudder you'll learn,
the flame that the wick is,it'll melt and burn.
I'll keep the light and fire,
so I am told.

I wish we all be forgotten.
What is to remember ?

The Outcast

It's the fairly consequential end to those who think that everything that surrounds them is inconsequential to their being. Dependency is the ramification of structural existence. I do not challenge it, I sometimes defy it.

It's like rearing an ant farm, you rear the people who like structure tied insects carry the little grains of information stored in an ant hill of a news feed and then they breed in further ,creating opportunities of new ant contacts. Stock of grains from the little nuggets you pass on or chose to float in their virtual universe are then stored and shared, further carried to the source of it all. A large glass box housing them all, You could be an emperor, a jack, a queen in the domain of the glass box and then when out of the glass box there is a .......  where these structure tied insects are not even existent. further if the glass box is dropped, the ants would scatter.
The ants have scattered. I did attempt at throwing the glass box off  the utility shelf. I am the ant who escaped the glass box while it had not collapsed.I  am essentially the outcast. I cast the others out now. They may move in the stench of the formic familiarity, that is obligatory. I do not affirm my ties in obligations. I am glad the rest understand.