Message In A Bottle…

The tiny spectras of lights …
They look like a pattern, something like an Aztec calendar or maybe a system of information; a telegraph; a document of sorts…data..like the computer chip instilled in the fiber glass…. It’s all around us. It’s everywhere in everything. The patterns of data that surrounds us; that we are blinded to see…or not see, rather. I see it…instilled…And it’s intriguing. It ignites my curiosities and ignites wonder(s{?} , wonderment{?}) inside me; within my mind; which creates a plethora of tingly sensational little pleasures in my mind…quite a thrill it is.

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Mother…

Should I trust you?

Are you trustworthy ?

Mother,

Are you a child molester?

Do you condone it?

I think you do…

Did you touch Her?

Innapropriately?

He did. And your friend too.

Did You?

I saw the way you looked at her…

It was odd…

I didn’t approve; did not like it.

…after that you wanted to punch me in the face… because I felt like I was being raped by the “voices”

Mother? Are you ok?

Is your head right?

Are you sure of yourself?

Are you in the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind?

Can you find me within the Muscadine?

Are you alive?

Are you my real mother?

Why do you not like kids?

Why do you not care much about me?

Is there any love at all?

Is it love that you would seek?

Or is it only admiration?

Tell me…who are you?

Because, I don’t know you…

I have no idea who you are…

And you do not know me.

I am full of LOVE… I am Love.

I see you, unclear…Find your mind.

Please mind Your Self.

Who are you?

Are you good? … Or bad?

Be true to who you are…

So we can see you

When the Sun Shines 

over your head.

…Who Am I?
*FICTIONAL/ just some schizd out story made up by voices