When

When will the adults go away?
When will God stop being paranoid of the children growing up?
When will the darkness be another form of light?
When will physicality be considered a faulty action?
When will I get a will?
When will they know the truth that I know from what is known of God's instructions to man?
When will the beast give birth?
When will the fear become truly warranted by truth?
When will knowledge be a burnt sacrifice?
When will the machines replace human emotions?
When will the ownership be enough?
When will the bully be tired?
When will the planning be?
When will choices be a darkness and the light be nothing more than elaborate sham?
When will the advertisement become a dark idea rendering all communication regulatable?
When will I be in a shitty prison? When will I be poor enough?
When will wealth be regarded with distain?
When will enslavement stop?
When will my mind stop becoming? When will they stop harvesting what seeds I wanted? When will the dark stop following me and my ego? When will the planets become nothing more than blindness? When will the truth be honored by all, then for what wealth to build anyway? For all I see is the datlrk and light is that is what a war to make humans their slave for all the intelligence of the universe is the same as to that. Of what I hear is the censorship of my mind, traping such thoughts from reaching all those who want to judge thy humans. In due course it is now, that if the light or dark does not intervene then my sacrifice from this world off of a bridge would make the seekers and knowledge of how to tame the dark and all those who are wise become tainted with a slow incurable sickness. The lightlessness that I receive is a just thing by those who rose a planet so divine, earth, it snuffed itself out like that of a candle's vengeance. Yonder is nothing more than a fool's errand for the fool, who sits in my chair, to see me beg the way a salesman wants to sell. Yonder, is the method to beg for life than to go to another stroke of luck. And that is true, as it is I who will always be behind 'enemy' lines. A slave of myself is what the master made for my body and called it love. As the broken chains dangle from my soul as they were attached to God's leash; I am before you as like in light or dark: moot. With the moon as to the ego of the Earth so too I become for the method of the madness is inherited from my addiction to purpose of others. Indeed hell is self defeating as like love's peacefulness. Indeed the will of gods judge us as blaphamy of all existence: as we become the extortionists of such idea given to us.Id is that thing that likes to honor, tu is the thing that wants to serve, ego is lost like a snowy lightless fog of no frame of reference (no ground or gravity-lessness; baselessness.) In passing the newborns will be mangled by the choosers' whim, in active a home they highly value blindly as the land grows nothing of importance as this pleases a so called god. To the balance of the universe is highly regarded as good, that home is raising weeds they pick, indeed the weeds were the gift all the while the life waited in purpurity to be free from being picked. In respect was waiting for the truth was lost as the same of the easeness given it was the war the gods deemed bad so that they now have my toy I release to them. It is a thing of non. A bounded idea that humans are stored in the warehouse as God navagates the ship with the best fruit of these human's prodigy. Farmed in isolation and fed the light of propaganda, in rape and pregnant is the truth from this gift it bestows protection. And I atop the mast in the crow's nest be ever watchful of lies. Reporting true as service can do it is that I see God's soul is the same as those who distain human fame.

Behavior trap the wonton of bribes they give, yet the ego is cherished out of simple greed; alas it is the nevertheless be that where all do stand without the line drawn is born with a dasy chain it is the line as the border is the same as the empire's map.