"The watcher, the pineal gland, and the human."
Have you ever wondered, about the one that governors your thoughts-
Your timelines, your subjects, and your relationships with lovers and Gods?
How much does it cost? Just how much has he suffered in that cupboard, hovering- fraught. A prsioner of your minds caverns and dungeons-but his cage isn't locked?
Your impulses clot all the knowledge he has hidden in stock, making it obvious your wires are crossed.
So often his voice is smothered by plots. His only friend is you, selfish, and stubborn you're two sides of a coin, both urban, and *posh.*
Funny he should be blamed for it all. Your battles and losses, when sometimes his language translates to nothing but your own ill logic.
Your subconscious, regurgitating unethical laws, like a scream trying to be heard, reverberating through halls. Shocking as it is, perforating your skull, somehow the echoes bring comfort to your demons, and all.
As he holds your eyes, fixated on something you saw: a prize, a desire originating from some mysterious vibe.*
Somewhere in your wooden mind, he mimes memories of both darker and more colorful times.
-As the sun begins to rise higher, pulling me from my morning meditation-
"I" pause my contemplation of the human mind and my own personal relation- Of quantum physics and the possibility of living in a simulation. Questions people need to ponder for mental and spiritual stimulation.
"I" close my third eye, leaving him peaceful inside, silently hoping good luck to my human, cause hell is empty, Earth is humid, and none of them know what they're doing.-
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