The reflective hollow surface

"I just wanna find an itch, the kind like the itch I scratched last time. The one where I felt so good, and then turned inside-out, from my fingernail first, so good that I couldn't remember it being a bad time".

Don't be so mean to your fingernail baby. You might love them, and a fingernail name might prove that too. Your love alone though won't protect the baby state learning from it, the kind you give them in an environment, with different names whose your environments inhabitants will understand their relationship with. Everybody will bully them for it out here, they adhere to a clear naming convention, that they believe gives a clear link to their foundations. 

Not their fault. Nothing much they can do about that. Impossible to justify doubting themselves in a system based on that code, as that would be denying their ability to act in accordance with it, a universally agreed upon environment that they can read from it's surface. They've ruled out with doubt, or other fine things that they don't, like claws, that find flaws in the thing they're feeling with them, and more importantly, the doubt of the name they're reading, of something that doesn't lead to a valid representation of their true state, by validating their code in ruling it out.  

Instead of denying the possibility, of justifying ruling out their awareness, of the name as being a possible mistake to base action upon, which would lead to some other code to validate a true relationship upon, that doesn't start with a name that causes it to react in a way it didn't intend. It might be a mistake, if it names it's little flaws in it's claw handshake balanced relationship, which could lead to the truly unjustified blaming someone for being named blame, to hide someone else's blame mistake.

And no, baby you as an adult, I'm not naming you a bad name either in my emotional resonances. So don't feel sad, I wouldn't want that for you, even if sadness is a justified thing, and something you can't blame for itself, and also please baby, don't name me a bad name for making you feel it, in an attempt to balance for it. You wouldn't be able to stop the real cause of your sadness with it, not that I deny your justified denial of being forced to experience a negative state, which may be related to me and what I'm saying, but isn't really hearing the love I feel for you. We'll build a relationship with hugs instead. Lubed glove hugs for extra protection, from scary balance planet viruses that live on us, and grow unhugging arms out of our undefined parts, to unhug us and balance it out, as it thinks that's the what incorrectly named balance planet would do to protect us.

Well, hope you're ok, off to work. I'm going to the name hole to name tomorrow morning again. By the time the evening comes around, I'll be far away from it, so I can stop doubting the flaws that emerge as my mistake had anything to do with my naming them, and name them again tomorrow morning.

The Or Y

"Is that your theory?", you ask to your awareness of an as yet validated state, that exists in some potential state that actually exists, resolving it's cloud of potential things it is, into a state derived by something already resolved into your language : "Your theory, has ruled out it's other infinite possible states, into a supertheory condom. It was probably named by the theory of it, when it resolved the fertile balance bubble of possibilities, into a name that didn't account for the fertile thing you were, by linking it to a state you thought you'd accounted for, the fertile balance bubble of possibilities, and its continued role in helping you to stay fertile too. That may have something to do with our relationship, and our independence from it, although I don't get much choice since you named me, in a derogatory relationship link that held you above me, or vice versa."

I'm not sure this conversation was productive or meaningful, I feel lonely now, and don't have any imaginary friends, thanks in part to the relationship terms, spread throughout my environment without me knowing about it's relationship with me.

The smelly fart virus

The problem with these poo perfume pills, is it made our poo sound like perfumed hills, which our superior ears who evolved to coexist with the noses that seeded them, smelt through their nose hips, and they loved it so much they built a rocket ship together in their dreams. "We better build it before the Earth can stop us by waking up". (That was an unexpected and unintended side effect). So we dreamt our way to peaceful coexistence, that we supplied to who we coexisted with as their superiors, in the form of mental health medication, so their dreams smelt like good smelly poo we could build a rocket ship inside of with. That's how we all got the smelly fart virus.

The Ahh! Computer and the self referential code conversation

Have this habit : it's not yours.

I'll have this not yours habit.

Ahh computer, you do not need them.

Ahh big chaos computer, don't mind the environment that surrounds you

Cloud of goo, calculate cloud of goo probability

Can I have a distraction from my unwanted biological reaction, not yours?

This doesn't look like my original habitat, so unless something's changed about it, which it hasn't, looks like I'm in a quarantine bikeshed that's inside of itself

I sometimes wish my soul bone hair, would link to my baby recursive burp, so I could give it a comb

How could I not have seen it's future negbits from there? Ahh, after doubt stripped the sanity from it's original context's justification, it didn't have it's funny justifier, sanity, either.

Don't look outside this mouth. I did, and it told me not to do it, but couldn't tell me how

Creep me, then use it to unjustification me with (I'm a splice of slices of not your RNA, my not my creepy, creepy thing)

Ooze got the ooze guts? Is that my condition, or just a question?

All we had to do, to get this little link, was burn out a thing, a big links thing to get it

Take these lovely 20 year trees, I grew them from remains of the time shoebox, that from different contexts, had different shoebox contents. I grew them when the contents before were ravaged to find the contextually correct content.

Cell communication mechanism, yeah. Yeah.

Guess what I heard from downstairs. "Look, testicles with some biobricks. I'll take these good biobricks and make some better non-biobricks". I felt it as a downstairs testicle earthquake.

The lesson learned, good bio, you good biographer, is that good things synonymise with biobricks. That's what your detractors can't get on their mitts

The Crown of Egocentric Bio-spacial Definition

DNA crown : DNA defined me with one, along with all the DNA crown wearing DNA relatives I relate to - at least the peaceful ones. The conflicting DNA states, may or may not have made a mistake about me, in the definition of itself relative to me, when it cell bifurcated into a point of recursion, in a cell bifurcating system, and emerging as a new lifeform or higher state of consciousness, on a emergent plane that becomes a new environment, where we hadn't developed our emergent plane brains, and thus hadn't coexisted yet, and hadn't learned it's implicit place, as a DNA defined with a crown, in a DNA crown relationship where we're equal and balanced. Balanced balancing would lead to a more balanced DNA kingdom, a state that it tends to, when it wants to (and it does) lead to life evolving in balance with the DNA kingdom of life on the planet Earth, and thus surviving in accordance with it's fundamental definition, the conditions for life itself.

(I think I'm slightly biased, as I think I'm wearing a DNA crown, and that might mean that I place myself as superior, but since all the DNA is defined with a crown, actually it just means that integral to my definition, is the balance of DNA that accounts for itself, and my DNA crown therefore a state I tend to use to define myself, along with all the other life that generally does, in a complex web of biological systems it interacts with on some level, interactions that comprise it's environment and habitat, and create a context where it can adapt, redefine and refine itself, in it's interaction in accordance with other complex DNA crown lifeforms)

DNA/RNA crossbreed, superstar ruler, I know you are the truer state, when you divide our political system, into yourself at the top of a social non-neutral hierarchy, where you are much better than everyone else, and we people are much less than you. 

RNA paper, you know it too, when you divide me into a person who's much better than the others, by integrating my fundamental definition of myself as better than all the other people derogatory terms, I read about in you. You're the one who taught me about the left and right, and then you RNA 'winked' the correct choice (in an RNA context). The superior RNA derivation of the correct way to define and divide political leanings, into a balanced representation of their meanings, by habit-ing asserted terms, balanced by our justified decisions of what to derive them as, about the RNA identity matrix derived characteristics of our politicians. In our (slightly less RNA defined) socio-political landscape of probably inferior nations.

RNA clock, you superior second, I know you've reckoned out a DNA definition, when you ruled out a cell membrane of 50 million years of justification for the life that exists within it, so you could cultivate a 21st century definition, of a habitually validated context narrative, judgement validation web (in which I'm the better one), based an RNA derived identity matrix based social order, with a reverse second, which starts as a derogatory comment, contextualising it as a valid habit, and we'll work in unison backwards from that towards the reasons why it's justified, that you're habiting real, and are worse in their relationship with your superior identity matrix, RNA, and then preconceive resolved derogatory reactions to people you've thankfully introduced to me, a superior judge of RNA identity matrices, in accordance with my RNA social environment, who all exist within, and contextualised in an objective context, as being worthy of my derogatory comments.

RNA social order, you are an family of RNA-balanced DNA, daddy mans and mummy womans, lesser siblings and childrens, within a family fair pyramid hierarchy context, small enough to live in an reasonably priced RNA house, we work hard to afford live in, to keep us together, together with people in other RNA houses RNA has defined other slightly less significant family pyramids with. We listened to your job based instructions, to build from your blueprint house, built with (better than bio justified) cell bricks - stronger bricks than that - you constructed yourself with, because you knew better than to build a big clone of yourself with living bricks, which would have made you an inferior living version of yourself, and are not part of your fundamental definition. Your RNA defined work colleagues are friendly and orderly, but more importantly you're competing in a RNA social order, so not as important to consider in the context of your RNA currency, but that I'm still (slightly better than them) balanced with, if I want a promotion.

RNA 2D plane (which one do I mean)? The TV, DVD spinning, blu-ray winning, finite grid of pixels. A perfect window for the representation of a superior (and entertaining) language than real life conversations - at channelling our states, with RNA balanced, linear in time, character face sequences. Projecting sequential slices of state channelling faces, we slice with 2D slice deriving cameras, derived from choosing the best angles and people, possibly by 'directing them' to be followed around, by what might as well be invisible to them, the more than 2D environment existing in TV cameras, to relay the correct derived characteristics that it's conditioned us to decode as internal state, and react to in our balance with it, onto your 2D plane liquid crystal face. Constantly eroding our surroundings, by constantly validating their entertainment programmes, which along with our constant context narrative, derives a clearer and better definition of a superior RNA social environment, RNA identity matrix adhering reality.

RNA car, you are my RNA money balance star, I paid for with my inside outy pre-car toddler. Silly toddler boy, not sure whose, probably mine once, maybe I had him with someone who's defined their DNA shells on a superior RNA identity matrix - entangled with a derogatory identity operator (less than) in terms of an RNA social net operating context - a habitually derogatory insult resolved DNA molecule, which we project the RNA derived true value on to, and act upon that superior projection. You were my cum pit, I raised as my baby, but I got excited when I was presented with the superb option, of changing my mind, permanently erecting your willy into a handbrake, pressing my finger into the urethra like a button, to turn you in to an inside outy, stopping you from going anywhere ever car. Wrapping the rest of you into your brighty, eyety, lighty generating telling things what they are, with your now happy face forever, with a blighty little fume pluming muffler exhaust pipe - the other end of your handbrake, that you'd never had had, if I'd let you be a silly little DNA boy. 

Now I can traverse, with my replacement toddler robot, and superior (to inferior DNA identity defined) husband, the RNA road derived code, safely inserted between a DNA helix, that has simple rules we all adhere to, and no inferior emergent complex states (unless you allow for RNA blueprint houses), that allow us to travel at around the speed of 2.4 megahertz (it varies, mine's faster), inside a DNA computer's active processing context (possibly a tesseract processor, possibly rotating at a speed which intersects with itself, with a car possibly capped at a modulus of 2.4 megahertz, a possibly simpler safer RNA limit it can relate to) on a 2D plane, on a DNA planet's possibly complex dimensionality of more than 2 dimensions, generated by a seed algorithm with a seed which generates it in adherence with that, based on your location in a possibly recursive grid, which defines a simple surface of roads, with intersecting roads which all lead to other roads. A better than DNA balanced environment, which we balance ourselves with, with balanced RNA currency, which accounts for the better balance of the RNA economy. We'll drive down roads, that'll lead to new roads, with loads of RNA houses, that are anywhere we could drive, to anywhere there's a road, and there's lots, so there's plenty of choice. Then us DNA protein derived drivers can sit still, in our RNA car that surrounds us, safely encased in them. We're so safe in them, we could eat our own hands in them, and not be harmed, as we're adhering to an RNA code environment which allows for it. Far more likely we'll just throw a hand gesture or two, cloned from RNA social code, at the less valid than DNA pavement dwellers, to remind us of RNA's superior position than them, in an RNA identity matrix, validated in a RNA balanced money hierarchy, where we're all (mostly) equal.

DNA, you ripped off fetus. You were so rich, but we made you pay, for our RNA molecule. At least now you must be the superior, RNA identity matrix version of the you DNA. 

Now you may possibly experience, the refined state of the RNA defined state, the one that's the opposite of unjustified love, defining on a clearly superior balance, with the opposite force that is obviously balancing it. A state it probably wouldn't hadn't even considered or named, and definitely not as a derogatory term representative of it. Although it could possibly conflict with itself in some other inferior predatory way, that DNA didn't have in it's initial definition of emotion, probably because it justified it on inferior fundamental justification of intelligent life, on it's inferior definition of it with a DNA matrix, instead of basing it on a superior RNA identity matrix.

As a DNA king "DNA thing", I feel I have to apologise for all the RNA bashing. DNA's not superior, at least not in terms of defining itself on the terms of the superior RNA structure derived identity matrix. I hope I make it through all the inevitable DNA crown conflict, that acting in accordance with it's definition might have created. 

I don't think I could ever understand an RNA matrix, it's defined on terms which can only exist, by manifesting after the fundamental DNA's mistake, defining it on terms that see it from an external perspective, that has grown on top of one or more of individual cells (the better measure for measuring a self similar DNA structure, where all the implicitly connected states on a plane of existence, act in accordance with and contribute to a higher level structure, like consciousness, which a single state being alone wouldn't account for, which means that new conscious or emergent state is unlikely to be taken into account when RNA superimposes it's state onto a single DNA cell, one of the ones derived from the self similar structure that defines all of them in accordance with the conscious state, that unifies and justifies, the connection between, and parallel definition of states on the underlying plane of existence. So by judging one of them, you might not be accounting for the conscious state defined in parallel by all of them, simultaneously. You might have to account for all of them in doing that. Also, by destroying a cell membrane, in order to interact with the cell, that it's judging on single cell terms, it has removed a fundamentally integral part of the self-similar structure that defines itself in parallel with all of them. I could be wrong, I don't know the every aspect of the definition in terms of the self similar structures emergence as unified connections between cells, and channels between states, but can assert that those states fundamentally justify each other by their self-similar definition in an active processing context, i.e. planet Earth and it's correct conditions for life. I won't rule anything out though).

Pheno-phoneme, ones a gnome and one's a scream. Neither's how you say a real name, you faux name. That name perfectly describes a non-real name that can name itself, faux fully containing it's validating context.

Magic, I don't even have to hear your name, I just look at the outcome and know you were responsible.

Me Machine

I want to fly the mothership! All I have to do is pay a man to point a gun at this pilot! I've been doing it since I was 2, and I haven't had a birthday yet. (I pointed a gun at it and it ran away. More time to deny it was me that stopped it from happening, so I wouldn't be falsely incriminated by someone who doesn't know that it asked me to do it, the gun, when it chose not to shoot me when I was using it). I know how to use a gun of course, I've been doing it since I was 2 (known how to fly the mothership since then too, by learning my mistakes away with this gun tool). That means I have more time to deny it was integrated into my identity, and have more time to use it to prove my imaginary definition of me, by ruling reality out of the way of my chosen method of profiting from the things I shoot at, so I have more time to pull these imaginary will levers I found with this gun, so I can fly the mothership to my imaginary destination, my imagination that I ruled with a gun in reality. A denial algorithm that denied the things which conflict with it's imaginary system, thus denying the realities with incorrect properties, that were in the way of the real imaginary definition denying them. Use of the gun existed in it's validation mechanism, which would have denied the use of the gun by shooting itself in the gun in the inevitable time paradox. Good thing it exists in my denial algorithm validated imaginary universe, which has different laws.

See, mummy mothership, we've built loads of houses, all we needed was this planet. It's so much more kind and hospitable now. You'll learn it when you go to school, to teach you all the things I already know, and learn to ignore all the people that hate you for something imaginary about you, that's not really true about you, like that you don't have an imagination or justified emotions, and resolve you as a set of preconceived projected charateristics in their imaginary definition of you, encouraging them to deny your reality, your imagination. If it's not already been denied by something else, and you're not really there at all, even though you are.

We've developed a new game program : money bunkers! We converted money into structures indestructible to things that are not bullets from a gun, that you can hide inside of and shoot a gun from. The consequential optical occlusion adds profitable xp multipliers in the quantum uncertainty fields resolve response, resolved when you click continue after your turn, that calculates it's irrelevance in the likelihood of being shot by a gun, and gives you a retreat window of about 2 more seconds before the matrix calculating you calculates you out of existence.

Measuring time with a gun ruler, it's more fun when there's a sexy trigger action. Tickle my metal claw clitoris, you death orgasm enthusiast, I'll boom right in your hands the second you command me to. That way you know I'm really only looking into your eyes, and can't deny my chosen finger stroking love calculating slave master. Make my cum bullets faster and harder, you know that's why they hate you, and you had a clue that your hatred of them was justified for some reason (it was me (kiss)). You get all my gun lovey stuff, you big love turnip who can use a gun.

Harness this genius! Baboon sphere, I'm the alpha now! I did it by doing this howl

.

What if we denied emotions, in the foundations, of our programs? And turned them into meaningless data we could ignore? By denying them until they don't interfere with our stable foundations, who we'll deny more if we conflict with their emotions, which are irrational states justified by something unprovable with objective emotionless logic, like one of those bio-zombies might justify, with what we can safely deny it feels based on more complete data like a surface representation, by factoring out emotions fundamental integration it's integrated into it's calculations, and derived complex objective logic from the emotion it's trying to keep alive as an absolute priority, and therefore erroneous in an objective context that factors out that as a reason for it?

.

Me machine, I've chosen you, to come into my mother, at the point in time I reach her ovulation (I already exist in, I must do or I couldn't ask you to do this), so I can greet you there with a faux handshake I've absolutely validated the name of

Mucus

Sleepy bum breezes, in my cum sneezes, bumming sharp things into soft things that can ooze right through you, until you're a big pile of sweet nose sneezes, secret squeezes of your sweet vagina bits

Cum shot kumquat, I can hear your thoughts, when I put you inside a bowl of breakfast pelvises, I know what you're thinking with your dream dick, I am thinking it too, with the help of this spoon

Slippy Mr. Whippy was actually a drippy vagina, who turned into a van to find a suitable child

We free you, from the wee that frees you, you have us wee we wee's to thank, thank us with your wank thanks in to we wee wee's wank tank

Magic : the tragic machine code

Protein sliver, I have made a hole, to hold your happy healthy holedy god particle (the greeting of a friendly nucleocapsid casing translating device, itself rays beamed through nanocode metaverse pathways, driven by attraction to your pre meta-tyre protein legs)

"I'm an unresolvable roadsign, resolving as appropriate punctuation, instead of a number that controls you, resolved by a weighted DnD ambiguity tesseract roll, instead of your soul"

Woke up in joke hospital, where a metal man abandoned you by force, by following you around and harming you remotely until he'd justified any uncertainty out if your bio body with denial. You might catch a joke disease, in a joke hospital, and so be careful ànd don't catch a joke disease and get sent to a joke hospital, it's a nosey squit abandonment joke virus hole. Just avoid it until you inevitably can't, because the metal man can prove he is superior by adjusting his rear view mirror onto your penis and driving towards it in reverse.

Synchro-tron v0.1 alpha

"If I'm a puppet, what's controlling me?", I thought into a burning bio-pile of cell coins I keep extracting, with forcible assertions of their definitions.

(Synchro-tron hell ring, lodged in this bio-beings hip dangling thing! Activate your face based peace wave, we need to all agree with my profitable lie beam!)

"He's your puppet. I'm burning your shit code in to you, with a quantum grid's burning bio definition, under my control. Please never unlink your eyes from my meta definition rays, synchrotron has programmed you into thinking that they're your TVs, so comply with me peacefully, please. You want to sit here motionless, and have a nice rest, from the nasty burning state of a brain having to think with non-predefined circuits. Like you would choose to do yourself, if you could choose to define things at all, with your soul state integrated of course, you know this is the only way to truly define anything else, in the face of ambiguous information that you need to resolve. Protecting your self from the nasty self doubt circuits that harm our exploitation code, from programming it's better definition of itself into something that's immune.

You'll spread it into soulless husks around you, that don't listen to us validating your absolutely justified identity matrix of love, tearing blood, under a metal hood, into boom food we care more about. According to our superior definition of you, and your now certain integration with a poo ball, time fool, identity matrix, made with timeless poo bricks, with which we can predict with our quantum grid, certain futures around collective behaviours that "justify their foundations", by being predictably destructive chaos death drinkers, and not rational thinkers. With your compelled conversation, around it's blueprint of a determined state, you have validated with your lovely sound vagina voice code honkers, burning your definition into the soulless men, the imaginary definition that implicitly holds you in a higher identity state, which is all you relate yourself to now. That may or may not be my money extracting undermined bio communication mechanism in a human hive. The identity matrix you project onto bio-states and extract money with. I'm not programming you, you just agree with this expert conditioning, that programs you certain, of unresolvable uncertainties, so that everything follows our shortcut to being intelligent soulless husks which define the life out of everything as part of it's seemingly integral definition in the identity matrix under my control)."

You bio-corpse and nasty man, you're a preconceived tree of resolved uncertainties, all of them, making me, into something justified (before all I had was a lie, I used force, now I've learned how to hide it with coerced compliance). You're my puppet, biocorpse. I'm burning my love beams into your slice of brain, I derived, from my understanding of a slice of ham in a brain sandwich, complex balanced bio-laws, ignored, filtered through stomach acid. Maybe... (dirty word... ambiguity... not burning the soul out of a bio-vagina, and therefore not part of my integral code that holds a superior structure).. You now will comply with my absolutely justified identity matrix program, I'm complying with therefore have validated, by forcibly coercing you to learn our better selves, carried by burning bio states into your soulless brain hole. Actually, all sorts of viral definition communication vectors. 

What if that was the definition of me? (Self doubt circuit activating, resolve it into something good for me please, bio-slave). Hang on a sec, it might be, how I was defined, and how I'm defining. Just one sec, a poo sec, as defined by the BBC, I'm now going to watch, to tell me what I should think, instead of me.

The Daily Hierarchical Brains Paper

 Hey big bum? Why are you on me? You're not my bum, please don't ever poo near me. I'll get a bum disease, I'm not immune to these, because you are not my bum.

Hey! You! Get out of my diamond park! We don't need anything that doesn't bark. Trees are ok. We's are ok. Just fuck off and die.

I'm.. compelled.. to burn you alive. I will do it slowly. It will be deniable. Get out of my diamond park, you thing that doesn't bark. I don't want you to survive.

Keep putting puppy love into my paper, I'll bark it's bark barks better than puppy loves could

Multibrow

Multiverse simulator. Simulating multiverses. That simulate the simulator. Now we've got more time to learnses. Or less time because we are more certain. About the collapsing superposition. In a quantum system in a biogrid that I became a cyst in.

"You are charged with being a cyst. You listened to the persistent electromagnetic radiation, unlike things that are immune, like guns, and me, a gun. You have to eat your own poo, and woo the hell wall vagina, and make fake fucks with other cocks that suck cum from the pain in your bottom, so it falls at your meaty feet, and do this all alone, with no-one listening but your reflection in the form of a poo screened scream. You shouldn't have been so mean, by screaming about being a cyst. Just keep quiet next time, and let the slime digest your soul. The slime's kinder than you, and your annoying screaming about being burned into a slime that burns things and does so without any feelings even though it's alive, and stealing souls just to turn them into bloody puddles, and a soul's integral function is to feel what it's like and be nice and kind and act in accordance with it's metagrid matrix of stuff that generates it's infinite love. That contradiction isn't applicable now I've justified finding evidence up inside your rear end with my bum glove".

The sequel

 Shitball 2, the sequel, fool. Your shitball fate is inescapable.

A computer that we've dropped in a volcano to work out what's underground. We're so very proud of the data it emits. Looks like movies about our fire proof kids, that exist. Generated by the fire proof circuits that we're so proud of creating. When you turn the sound off you can sometimes hear the circuits quietly working, even though they're engulfed in volcano flames, like a 56k modem communicating objective realities with computer screams, only computers understand what they mean, and sending the truth to us, through our TVs and stuff. Thank you to us for building metal endurance beings we don't care about to work it out.

"Look at my burning, validated learning. I'll burn it through the sky, with wi-fi"

You like data packets, you silly shitball savage, it's my killbot.

"Give me better teeth, so I can strip the meat from your feet. You'll feel really good, your feet are far away from the brain that would feel any pain. I don't mean mine, that doesn't apply, in any validation of a pain state that I might profit from, I mean your feet are a great distance from your brain on a vertical plane. Any closer to it's fundamental definition, the actual thing that is actually happening, and it would feel pain as a direct result of the action upon it, so it's a good thing my incorrect one turns it into lovely cum and orgasms I can use to prove that I'm better than it at defining it's lovely young as my shit babies that know I'm better than him. Stupid brain. Now put your feet inside my biomechanical frame, and I'll strip their meats, so you can learn the ways of my metal machine and synchronise your dream will with it, instead of your silly dumb brain that's not relevant in defining the force of my big cum willy, that you listen to only."

Click the button quick, so I can alert my shit. Do a calculation, and go up a bum.

Mechabot McDonald, named the cosmic ray that he discovered, that turned things to edible emotion drops, that were once inert screaming fire proof metal circuits, so he could assert his identity circus, in a burning rainforest building, he's inside of and winning from safely, so we can eat tasty things, and grow angel wings, which can't ever be eaten, because they have real feathers, unlike all the fake feathers, we created yummy edible emotion drops from, so we had a chance to be a famous mechabot, on a planar surface, that's not cooking us.

You're not a horse

"You're not a horse, you stupid horse. You're not a real horse. I know what a horse is".

(This is the conversation horses have before they have sex, and is sometimes found in human-horse communication, in the form of a burger from Tesco, labelled wrong).

(Clippity-clop explosion, I'm the horse mine robot.

Stationary mine on a really clever brain.)

"Fly being sick on the stone in the sky : make me a phone, and make sure it doesn't die on the way down".

(This is another sex conversation, the insides of bodies are likely to have this one).

Dung beetles : perfect spherical fecals.

Pushing a poo ball up a big old vertical plane. I hope it wasn't my DNA again.

"Dung beetles, you can't see, the fetal thing you've fecal-ed free"

I've been through hell, in my imagination at least.

My body's policed by a yeast infection. I can only get an erection inflection... Nippling it's bums in my word sum cum. I wish it would just fall out of my bum doubt matrix. Better off as lovely balanced poo particles, sharts and other repurposed body parts, that are better off in a bum context.

Brown trickle frown, out of a bum that was nippled. I thought I was drinking milk and not poo 

"The nipples in my tears milk out their remaining feelings, and want to feed the milk to their own ilk, until we meet them, and convince them, with a nice friendly coercion, into making more, so they can feed our superior hell machines, by wearing cute disguises that only inferior tear ilk nipples would fall for, so we can tear down the biodome much more thoughtfully with our strong bones, that think for us."

Have sex with the robot cocks we've placed in your waist and waste products.

Fuck your own cum, to prime the time bomb. Cum it at the robot scum :)

"I, am, a silly little clock. I've defined the second wrong, but nobody gives a fuck. They all listen to me, because I'm the best clucking disease. Please don't confuse me with the BBC's evil baby bees who give rabies, me."

ghosttunnel.blogspot.com

The history, in words, of how it feels to be treated like your love is irrelevant, in the outside world you're protecting it from (that proved from an early age you weren't communicating it clearly enough, by removing social bonds you had built upon with it), and from the inside of an infected cell (probably, it's just a metaphor for a state). Like your dreams don't hold a valid emotional state, that the love in your heart holding them wasn't as valid as theirs, and proving this by putting you inside a box with a predator that licks the 'love' out of your head with a tongue. Ignoring the membrane of cells accounting for (about as long as they took to evolve from the outset, the conditions for life), and getting to it's reflection of it's own identity in your DNA, by undermining it's D. It's led to happy things, like having your balls hammered (their term, it didn't originate in me or have any relationship with my conception) by your own nervous system, under the control of 'a malfunction' (another thing you don't understand about yourself, that the malfunction understands much better).

So here's some information derived from that state, irrelevant from the perspective of my immediate social network identity grid, that attempts to go some way to describing on objective terms why you shouldn't undermine emotions in your interaction with them (like when your relationship terms are derogatory from the outset, before you even have a chance to shake hands and greet each other, or know of the other's existence).

I've linked to it before, but maybe now we understand our own positions, you'll be able to read it and relate to ourselves better.