DALI AND SOUND

Revolution, and the abandonment of self delusion justify the sight given to the lions hunt. The world offers little as the prize awaits the numbers. Time inside the painting finds sanctuary as a liquid form. Blinded and sacred from the guidance of the storm. The face on the discarded coin holds a delicate fate, one which has allowed for an empty cry to be heard. Fear, and the persistence of memory compounds that midnight checkmate into a wandering tradition. Wars that were once hidden have come to dictate my generations next move. Surrealism cannot explain the daily distortions of humanity that remain common knowledge and glorified possessions.

The smell of spice is a focused intoxication of the senses, an act that creates thought production. Where to turn the page and permit light to enter? Sirens shatter the night, collected hours that are escaping the sun by engaging in a desperate plot of the cosmos. Pills of calculated risk are not the answer worth seeking. Alternative methods for release must be gathered. Dispatches from the unforgiving soul are kept silent and misinterpreted. Pictures in the camera are moments held captive by the surroundings of advanced machinery. Names from historic revelations culminate speed through the mind, a mind on the edge of chaos.

Stop chasing shadows and just enjoy the ride. Calmness replaces the entrenched chaos, though for how long is a question meant for the desert. Skin slowly feels a lost paranoia, a trek into unrecognizable terrain that is preparing a double feature of hallucinations. The coin is now placed into the tigers mouth, an object face to face with nature. When planets align what is the result twenty years ahead? The carpet show five toes unable to move, numb from the changing sound. Savage horizons conspire to erect a failing concept visualized by various interpretations. Holding onto the last breath that is given with a universal truth leads to doubt.

Cold vibrations tell the story of a strange society. The tigers eyes have found their prey in waves and the depths of the ocean. A rifle orchestrates an illusion that can have one believe in a heavenly canvas. Have philosophy held at gunpoint in order to gain leverage over 20th century minds. Submit to the free flow conscience and discover that wordless dream. The animal is a hunter, teeth convicting flesh and a wealth of bone. Foreign voices sing visions in the language of the masses. Let the nation fall, so as to be artistically reborn. A Jihad is turning, the wheels are broken and this age will end the foundation.