If not the hand that feeds the one that stops the sensational feeds. . .

Hello Funky wall peeps so I have closed a few blogs over the past few years and some big ones by that but I always try and find time for this special one you probably noticed that I have also started writing my weird babbling at the bottom of the images as well please take it as it comes its just a mirage of thoughts that created the work and should be taken as a open state however senseless it seems . . .The explanation of the components validity in reality and in essence the pulse of each little piece . . .

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If it wasn't for the occasional sad the sometimes, the downtime the loss and the remember of those that hurt I guess some works would never have been heard some progress would have for ever been forgotten some fragile states some dissolute destinations would never be reached some things would never be if it wasn't for the hex of those unkind gave to thee. . .some lights never shine where they should and some days never end good its all up to you . . .and if that be I guess it wrong that it should  but now the future has erased you the past have forgotten you a history made of dim gestures and forgotten ventures a delight in the glow of a flashlight in the grow of new life in trees and animals found it tight and light. . .does it drag you down or excel our highlighted scenes its the hand that stops the obscene from within its the fertility of action the dreams of a million thoughts and a million thoughts of dreams its the beginning and its the end stop thinking down lets face it way up there where it's all fair!

Before mindless turns to Madness it revolves around a little circle of light. . .

when the fuzzy beans turn to steam and the little things turn the screens its all up to mindfulness without motion and devotion without any negative notions, It's to raising glasses and shattered classes its the serene delivery of all your anguish in one lonely step its the negotiation between whats inside and what it takes to keep it all for the motion of simple notions and all for the tidings that brings new glories to the tables of those well fed by relentless restlessness and those looking through to end of another glass to substitute the reminiscence of that which where meant to destroy and by the graces of each breath it shall remain . . .inept. yet contributed to its devices in a singular moment of distraction the birth of this little fraction a multiple of void emotions unbounded through mindless oceans. . .