Senseless Time

As time goes by it becomes harder and harder to trust my senses, to know exactly how and why my body reacts to the world. My interpretation changes by the second and some days it’s impossible to keep up. Each sense working on a scale that changes with every new piece of information I gleam from it, a drastically fast kaleidoscope of broken images and feelings. Brighter lights, clearer sounds, sharper temperatures, and a swaying scope of scale attack me constantly, wearing at my view of the world. Each shift defines a whole new set of actions and reactions to reinvent, a constant game of mix and match, find the value, adjust and prefix.

Check my vision, watch for space, rescope distance and speed. Always a broken game, a losing battle against a shattered brain. Skills that wain faster than their use, moments of clarity that set me free. Moments by which my motivation flys, a vision of broken skies and solid ground. The heavens lost, confounded in their great scope, with solid burning ground screaming it’s putrid truth.

Adjust and prefix

Watch the scale
A distance around you
Measure the falling hail
Shattered parts in view
Leaving burning trails
Make your perspective true
Your center motion rail
Feel each push pass through
Moving you by sail
Shaking you broken and skewed
Counter actions or fail
Reaction and survival impromptu
A new sound prevails
The world coloured in blue
Cracking foundations hollow and frail
Prefix the action in due
Lest you end with an action designed to fail
A motion written in the best of truth

Watch for Space

Hear your dreams
Become a master of seams
Find the open lost scenes
Hidden behind noise that screams

Hear the space
Watch it race
Rushing into place
Ending with a blasting face

Hear it’s words
Know what they hold
Waiting for time to scold
Teaching a lesson of life gone cold

Hear the shatter
A pattern of broken plaster
Each its own single splatter
Tearing through space and matter

A shattered brain

Men define their world
With a mind short of pure design

A preemptive idea of hot and cold
Flying truth a feature undefined

Vision is but an image to hold
Ideas forming the world they find

A broken game for time to mold
Perception built to define the sane

Brightest light

Reflect the world my light
Show the feature rich world in sight
Shape it’s contours just right
Bleeding edges of colors fight
A diming future for all of life
Brighten to fight the waxing night
A future doomed with unbending might
My vision all but burning bright
Fighting the deadend fright
Colours burn the world alike
A feature rich landscape a colours flight

A brothers hand

The first brothers had a certain synergy, largley held up by the tempurate actions of the younger. Always ensuring that his brothers actions would be fruitfull, watching from behind the curtain and pushing the world towards order. He loved his brothers messes and was enthralled by guiding them to their shared goal. Each new crux of disorder was a place their dreams could be born. He shadowed his brother, watching the proceses unfold in his wake, altering the laws they had laid in sequnce to fit their visions.

Of course there were mistakes, and they teach temperate more and more each time. Showing the guiding hand where to go through unrecoverable disaster. Grand actions leading where they sometimes do, a destroyed world rotten with perfection or fear.

A brothers chaos

Of the two brothers one stood out. He was the louder and more enthusiastic one. As opposed to his counterpart who watched from the background, carefully planning each action. The grander brother rushed through ther plan and couldn’t sit still while the universe was defined. Facinated with every machination of their nature he did an uncountable number of expiriments that have altered the world they were building, so manny that even they could not predict their reprecusions.

But then, where is the fun in knowing everything? Grander just wanted to see his art work it’s way out of the chaos he made, to see everything fall into line by essetential and simple rules. Each action taken carelessly by the brother was intended to sow the chaotic energy of the early universe, making a mess bg enough it would clean itself. The end result of granders chaos formed only by his brothers temperate hand.

The first brothers (lore concept)

There was a time in the past, a time where location was nonsense and the allpowerfull had not yet been forged. In this abstract place when time never changed a spark hotter than any that will ever exist made itself. That spark had been on a quest to forge a world of beauty and free will, things that had been long lost in it’s home. From that spark grew two beings, entities of creation whose definitions did not yet exist, by today’s words they were the first brothers.

These eternal siblings had the whole of existence in their hands and a shared idea of perfection. To them perfection was not in defined calculations or exercising precision in all things, but they sought perfection from emergence. To see the world build itself with no goals in mind, balancing its own aspects through mistakes and catastrophe. Watching the wildfires rage themselves into fields of nourished flowers and letting consciousness war its way to peace.

Life over time

Future defined in shock
Escaping it’s tiny case
Defile the world’s own flock
Energy caught mid race

A sweeping ripple
The true mass effect
Minds defined as simple
Finding a rhythms catch

Minds think alike
Marking time by light
The years an open mic
Devoured by motions fight

Minds all but lost
Defining their own shape
Man’s folly the final cost
Their will of patterns make

All a cascading filter
The made lost defect
Each their own trickster
Trapped by what they deflect

Energy moving mind
The fever pitch of life
A companion found in time
Defining futures strife

Fire of man

A burning maxim defined
The fire behind clouded eyes
Flowing forth in kind
A future of intersecting skies

Words spoken by kin
A rule made to bend
The burned idea in sin
Truth the masters lend

Define a man within
A seeker of life in flux
Broken by evils whim
A sleeper in rivers rush

Fire consumes the tool
Breaking an ashen wake
Mans broken rule
Fire for life’s stolen sake

The world will scream as long as I live

My senses have been at war with me for as long as I can remember, always tricking me, forever showing me more than I need to know. My earliest memory that I have a date for is 9/11 on a military base, and in it I remember nothing but mechanical screams. I remember standing on my porch as the base rallied itself, sirens and flashing lights on every car, tearing at my body with monotonous pulses. I remember the jets overhead, the bone wrenching blast of movement that they left behind. I remember the cracks in the concrete, wavering in front of my tiny face as I trembled in the wake of the neverending onslaught. Just waiting, watching the world shatter in my mind.

Even now, 19 years later, I still fight with the world my body shows me. Always having to predict where my senses will fail, where and when they will alter reality. I’ve built my whole frame of mind around constantly predicting and verifying my own thoughts against the world as it should be. Always having to watch for context and verify what should be there before trusting what I see, forever watching my step in preparation for the world to run away. A knife edge between life and agony.

The world is a changing mass laid out before me, too large to grasp and overwhelming without context. Sound and motion holding stories too subtle to put to words. Stories of interactions between man and nature, of a never ending cyclic energy. The world is on fire while color and heat make shapes in the wind, marking scenes out in oily swirls. Each ray of light showing beauty in my pain and forging a vision of non reality that burns its way into my dreams.

I will never have a quiet moment, as long as I live. There will never be any form of stillness in my mind. The very vision I wish to define is broken and mismatched. A jigsaw puzzle smashed together in reaction to so many constraints. A machine running on false information, never able to produce the desired output. But as it is, this is who I am. The man who struggles to see, who values moments of clarity and vision beyond its worth. A faulty process by all standards, but one that nature has wrought out of it’s own jagged methods.

Stitch & Remix

Stitch and remix
Grab reality and affix
Attached with a masculine grip
Build the stars as you see fit
A world built from the seam you split

Take each step in time
A momentary peace sign
Each breath marking the rhyme
A score for the all encompassing lines
The ordered rows staying aligned

Make a feminine task
A mothers fearsome grasp
By which a world is clasped
Through which we all see our past
The touch of those long passed

Define the forbidden mark
By which all men will march
Holding back the fear so stark
The edge by which death embarks
A symbol of men amongst the stars

You build a world with many parts
Both power and fear to start
Your fear in your lack of skillful art
And having the power to give your heart
To know you freedom is torn apart

Behold, world grows beyond you
It makes its own hold for truth
Taking steps to deny it’s past youth
And rid itself of the carrion brutes
Those who are themselves new

Audio processing with mov

You know that person that always tries to finish your sentences for you, trying to prove that they have a sense of the world around them by making an assumption and rolling with it? Well everyone does that, or at least their brain does. When you hear something your brain tries to predict what it is as soon as the sound begins, the more information it receives the more defined of an idea it has. As it hears a word in the sound it switches to recognizing speech, and tries to make it easier to understand malformed sound by predicting hat word will come next. This can make it hard to understand people who have a different accent than you, or if the topic suddenly veers off course from what you were expecting. If you pay attention there is always a part of your mind running those predictions when your talking with someone, a part of you trying to make the audio processing job easier by ruling out words based on context. A sort of echo in the background of your thoughts that jumps in reaction to every new word.

Now because of that, we do have instances where our brains make mistakes. Where we expect a different sound than what was said and it’s enough to cause confusion. This is normal to happen in day to day life and our brains are really good at sorting out the context to make up for the missing word. But there are times where people can have a very hard time processing audio in general and the context isn’t enough to make up for it. For me it’s an issue with how my brain compares sound and words. I don’t always know how a word sounds, and will get very confused when I come up with a different mental sound for a word than what I hear. That leads to a cascade of misinterpreted sounds that just mix up the context and ruin any chance I had of accurately getting the word right.

There are thousands of reasons why someone might have issues with processing sound though, and it varies in intensity. For me, it generally just means I’ll ask for the word again or ask you to spell it while for others they may not be able to recognize certain sounds on demand or even understand speech. Most of us who have this diagnosis learn to deal with it when we are young, whether by therapy or necessity. So it is often a forgotten part of myself, coping with it becomes something I do in reaction to everyday life. Just another thing that gets between the communication of two people, and a reason to listen more intently than the average mind. Just like any condition it’s a spectrum of symptoms, effects, and causes. So we all have to find our own weaknesses and how we can turn them around, so that we can each learn the most from each other while making the world a better place.

Very new to citing sources on things I talk about. These are things that explain what I’ve experienced over the years of dealing with this disorder and I don’t actually quote any of them directly. Use them as a diving in point if you feel more interested in the topic.


Traverse the lands brink
Across every world link
Each defined and distinct
Making broad skies blink

A world by which minds are made
Through it lines can fade
Boundaries defined melt away
And lay to waste mans decay

A global force for uniting
For connecting those dividing
And to thwart those in hiding
A web of that needs defining

Make of it what you will
This miasma of man’s own skill
A putrid sensational boil
Of man’s own turmoil