Max is NOW!

They have called us the insatiable human soul?

That from birth to death we seek to understand, to reveal the underneaths, to look for the secrets beholden beyond the puppets of origin. This is the worst sort of lie, the miserable, false manifestation of trickery and illusion. We are not victims of this Real, hidden from the Truth in a maze of shaking, hazy reality. Our souls are not insatiable, even the simplest monk knows this. Our souls cannot be fed, and neither do they wish to consume.

The phantasm of human want in a product of idle time and self-hatred…

When I close my eyes in the dark room of my soul the voices around me continue to banter and ring. I can feel all of them within me; we are the children of stardust and sunshine, we are the same. Seperations, birth, death, all of these illusions of the violent self-inflicted logic. Outside of ourselves we are nothingness, but inside of ourselves we are whole.

…

hat heavy, musky breath enveloping my shoulder and neck, it could only be your desire. Your tight grip on my fingers, sewing you into I, making us; The next moment from this as the weavers of fate. I could feel it in your heartbeat, the immediacy of being here now.
being-as
being-in
being-now
I never sleep in your arms, but I never want to. The binary I, consuming, becoming the analogous now.
What is passion in the eyes of my lover?
It is my reflection, it is showing each-other ourselves.
My pulse pounds as the cosmos spin around us, through us. You lips puckered sweetly in the weightless sleep. As I tightly clench my eyes shut, I see us lying there, naked, without worry, without yesterday.

In your bed, lover, I melt away. I become nothing in the eminence of all things…I become truth in the vacuum of space.