On crashing and being transformed

I dont like the silence. No hum or dirge of channels rapidly passing me by bye. Like falling windows in frames that once held sight for houses. We were in a toyo sedan green velvet interior the color of bug guts, the base was bumping I was hyped chem free. But then we fell from Eden and nothin but synthetic textures in skin suits of mans illusion juxtaposed what was heaven in my heart and mind. Oh i was spirit I didnt have a heart. Im forgetting what I really am already as I tumbled over guts colored bucket seats as frames of windowless windows pass me bye without my reflection. I am already dead and a ghost. The Riis is done called me home to my own private paradise under my skull cap. It felt like a falling out a hurricane in a swoosh like on nike shoes out of sea and into sky with speed similar to sun rays racing through fog kinda like scissors through cadaverous milk tone dead skin just penetrating with a push then awe threw to the other-side and it show warm.

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