Royal Blood

Insightful Nonsense laden with hidden keys to universal power.

DRAGGINS OF TYME AND TOME the pharmers of fear, fear of nothing, they are nothing, producing drugs out of thin air, consuming our experience gettin high on the radiation we ignore.They are the DRAGGINS OF TYME DRAGGIN US THROUGH THE INTESTINES OF THINKS AND STUFF as we dissolve away like the acid in our veins our soulstuff is absorbed and we are tripped over, they slip over our emotional puddles we leak, emotional gear systems nead oil too fuel for the weak, zero point en masseWE ARE DRUGS TRIPPIN OVER WORDS HIGH ON OURSELVESCircle back to the Anecdote of “The circus must be back in town” and god said…the show must go on! there you have it psychedelic fokes the culture of wordplay at it’s finest and no one exists in the realm of smarts to take this drug for the sake of sanity because something must be going on behind the scenes, right? It’s reasonable to believe there’s some sort of OCCULT ORDER OF SACRED SECRECY the ILLUMINATI IS IN YOU Or am I rited to perform a show which bedazzles nothing less than something. that’s this Anecdotal ring I’m showing you here now with these words glowing wow look at this s**t it’s fortunate I have a face because my name might not stand to forget itself in this carnival of denile, these faces think they must explode in the face of matter for the thinking done behind the scenes is not for naught because it’s electric and these eyes slip and slide gliding on sails trippin on icebergs GODLESS CRYSTAL METH IT’S WHACK unlick LSD it’s crack for the DMT doper hyperfiending for a universe to swallow! Intuition agreed upon by aspects of persona embodied in objective forms given a voice through warshipping them off to the altar of assemblage point mechanisms abroad the face of the b***h who creams all over the place let the water flow… Mad Genius f****r make me some fudgingsludge like a cacao plant that poops and we eat the gnomes that arise out of that crap this is s**t we are living in s**t and we are s**t and im a gutter punk dwellin in tha rappers pen dem chickin fuckers spreading filth and waste all over the keyboard and the screen eats it up like jelly oh that royal jelly so oppositional to the s**t piece they love to shoot at each other in a war of who digests who the golden fungus amongst the punks growin in the cat litter the shiny trash glittering the prisonscapes of urban babyl yah babies babble.Yah it’s that time again, time for another insane mercury retrograde status inspired by the baffling perplexity that the mass reverberates unto hyper-frequent endless stimulation whether you want to or not you are pure paradox… feeling the edges of what might or might not be there, livin on the edge, permacultural style, gracefully fractal. Everything comes together in this moment for the universe now in the name of the forsaken question, a mystery unsolved, the riddle played out through the actions of the perceiver disguised in the question, shrouded in the syntax of how you express yourself.let that nothing adorn that something, let that choice of how you want to answer the question posed to inspire you to keep going, inquisitioning into the excavating unto ye, simultaneously dying and living, come to the center wherewhence timeless weightlessness immortalizes momentously the continuum of momentum your moving through, mindfully encompassing reality through the interpretative art of semiotic mythologic, repetitiously working it out building a mountain making it pretty ruining roaming wastelands like melancholic nostalgia you need both sides to know one from the other like symmetry the art of alienation accept perfection denounce deflection.This moment is the product of immanent processes you have no control over except for the future.Simplified every which way what you have to say matters in the way you subject yourself to yourself complexified memetic history wishes you to be that which you cannot perceive yourself to be.The pressure weighs down on me to change and I want to let it engulf me, if only I could get the help of my friends to experiment with reality and to totally forsake what they think is the right way to be then we could actually dissolve the barriers and become the acid ourself consuming the culture substance of who we are to become something different, evolved.I can’t help it, if I want to act like the universe and be like god doesn’t that mean my preference for all and none simultaneously is justified in the way I dance through it all as if there was only music and a fire… this isn’t a question, not semantic and soulular so radical I wish to the core of what we are that we could collectively instantaneously become dreamy.Remembering the dreams of individualized diversification multiplicity of singularity like a race of inter-reality gods in council over the problematic solution of the only way one true distinguished wish…To reiterate and reify overly simplexified process timeless, weightless this is perfect what we have here is perfection beyond perception, negativity permaculturally positive, fractality comprehensively coherent in the one true ideal thought of self-realized questions myriad insectoid mind making it what it is as one and the same what the f**k is it all for fun justly laugh it offshake it out the weight of the worldly want need that greeedy speed demon who demands his fix shake him off and he disintegrates in the plasmodic blood of an aura synchroharmoniousAs if I had anything new to say this redundancy making me motivate new forms of innovation and improvisation to seed immortal ways of nothing as something for the age of renewal we’ve entered as of when we accepted the truth of paradoxical permaculturality. Wish what we dream altogether known intellectually and experientially the catalysts of which are stealthily silent about the ordeal we need figure out form ourselves these entheogens, plants and extracts and who knows what sorts of technology is running who knows what sorts of unconscious processes and yet the keys are laying on the ground waiting electromagnetically already for our imaginal ability to transcend the reality we think we know and this keyring we construct through the metabolic draggins of tyme is lending our perceptive faculty the portal potency of whatever, that’s ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE, NOTHING IS TRUE, EVERYTHING IS PERFECT and yet… we transcendental objects at the end of time wait for your decision of how you want to need reality to be as it were in accord with how you think.When you laugh let the giggly core of monkey king politics absorb all nega-4 maintenance so yah you laught I off and what’s left is the only way and that’s pure giggly.Popcorn travel! Crop circles, there’s equations on the cows! Relationship between deer and peyote. Aliens. DMT. STYLIZATIONCULTURECARNALGRACE dance your art out. Word to mouth.Digital VOICE, wishing we had it all, accepting nothing, gaining something unknowable.AS THE ENVIRONMENT OF ANYONE’S AWARENESS IS TAKING RELIEF BY BECOMING ESSENTIALLY COLOR THAT COLORS BEYOND IMAGINATION OVERWHELM THE ENVIRONMENT BY BECOMING WHAT YOU KNOW TO BE AROUND YOU AND ALL INSTANTANEOUSLY IS HYPERCOLOR AND THE FOCAL POINT OF ASSEMBLAGE IS IN YOUR HEART AND YOUR BODY DISSIPATES AMONG THE RAINBOW AND EVERYTHING IS A GIGANTIC MESS OF COLOR AND WITHOUT WORD OR REASON THE HYPERCOLOR PORTAL TAKES OVER AND THAT FOCAL POINT BECOMES ENDLESSLY UNCONDITIONALLY LOVING LIGHT

WAIT.. WAS THIS JUSTLY ITERATED LIKE A GOD WOULD.. how you say(?).. RAKE LEAVES “ play in snow “ Kill your habits in-carnations of ritualized embodiments creative in there own rite so when they die the melancholy of killing an old and diseased part of yourself is a sacrifice made to INSPIRE TRANSFORMATION as a PATHFINDER of endless potential possibilities.Mirror maze shattering.DRAGGIN OF TYME DRUGGED IN MINE OWN VAT OF FAT. My blood is the plasmodial thought-fire of the DRAGGIN OF TYME and thine own bone is the throne upon which sits the DRAGGIN OF TYME. The organs instrumentation as mechanisms to which are utilized by DRAGGINS OF TIME in the chaos of WYRD LANGUAGE.EVERYTHING IS A DRUG FOR THE DRAGGINs OF WYRDTIME Neon excretions… glowing with potential like fodder for aliens of alchemical art. or rather explosive things existent as substantial ALTARATION IN THE WARSHIP of DRAGGINS OF TYME.Sleepless! Imprisonment in the form of political structure incarnate as DOR buildings, sterile architecture oppressive to your fire. Got to keep dancing until maybe the walls get tired and sleep before me so then I can encompass this town in a lucid frenzy of dreamweavery. Such a sad song this layout imposed on us by the social engineers wreaking corruptivity on culture like a raped angel screaming bloody mary birthing an urban legend, those banshees they quell our anger with melancholy for better or worse?! Wake up and rage and continue to do so until you forget why you ever slept in the first place. Wait where was I going with this?Restless musery cold calculations slang wyrm weaseling a burrow under town hall… voodoo-tech, spider cities terrorizing mindless cavities, really though the zombie apocalypse is no myth. It makes no sense how interpretation is dependent on the geometry of association that builds up over the years how no choice is meant to last the way it should and how you are continually wrought by those you are in contact with, how a simple choice is made obsolete by the myriad factors taken into account by higher standards out of your control.endless differentiation you wish you could grasp and for a timeless moment you do, silence is pure. like, meditate moreThe road is blatantly staring me down… I think the sirens are flaring and the centaurs are rhythmically marching to the beat played by the dwarves underground and in the trees time traveling monkeys dropping feathers like lamps that grant wishes, the signs synchroharmonize like nonsense and I hone the rite to interpret all of it. Stagnant worship of Swamp Gods ran its course through my blood now distilled and free to blurt the word that is my wish.Like dwelling in Yodas hut I pace back and forth having learned all that I can in this settlement the fire on the horizon is magnetic and I am strangely attracted. Got to give it all I got, takin’ on the form of the Pathfinder.My entire body itches no pain can rid it the only WAY to health is riding that AEtherial horse on neon winds. It’s a night cruise, cruisin’ in the valleys where zombies coagulate and vampyres feast I am that phantom figure haphazardly projecting impressions of nonsense even I don’t know the meaning of.It’s all fairly allegorical, we’re all merrily metaphorical and like similes we swing from tree to tree trying at council with those time traveling monkeys.

Author's Note

Seek, decrypt, revel.