Soar

Welcome to my world, motherfucker. And I say motherfucker, my friend, because it is clear at this point to me that we have all fucked mothers. Just kidding. But welcome just the same.

Welcome to the place where social and individual delight reigns supreme. The place where everything you never dreamed of simply is. We are the incarnation, we are the physical embodiment of forbidden paradise. We are the expression of everything so great it would never be allowed. The expression of freedom so harsh it will chaff the skin, break space-time and the light barrier to smithereens. Turn concrete to plush fabric, mine golden thread underwater, swim the clouds. We are the clown, appearing silly to first touch, silently spindling out though ether, betraying the most basic physical certainty. We are the science of science and the spirit of spirituality; we bite the kernel and leave the pod raped unawares. We are the ones who will take you for all you’ve got, who will leave you for broke or dead or halfway in-between here and the impossible, and do it all without a waver. We are the certainty obtained by compiling random senseless whimsicality, wrapping the mystical in stone and plastic, presenting it carelessly and rude to all who would doubtless care to remain undisturbed. We are necessary change, inspirers of acute dissatisfaction. Ones who will throw indisputable logic through a mesmorem of fabrication and synthesis that would shame the gods, disappear momentarily, and emerge the transformed…naked incomprehensibility, blatant shadowmasters, directors of paradox, the collective implementation of an ageless sorcerer. We are the conquerors of the endless expanse of possibility, gapping the bridge between fate and freedom, reconciling gravity and weightlessness, weaving disintegration, forever escaping deduction, interpretation, conventional understanding. We are the jugular of detachment, the integration of so-called isolation. Antithesis of limitation. Murderer of sense. Demonstration of ease.

Soar.

Soar