Relative Murderers

Voice humming on an unheard lulled-melody that is revealing superstitions and supernaturals to Be that of the all-natural (It's all quietly transmitted in what they call a neurological emitter). Circular rubber carcasses lay under the evil machine and help roll the polluting monster along its self destructive path. Glance out the window from behind the black of the balls in my head, this biological technology of the Omniverse allows me to see colors, any coincidence that the pupils are black? Coincidence? Don't get me started. Black; all the colors combined. Gray; white included. Ah, the most beautiful shade of all; neutrality.

They're hacking down my friends that give me permittance to continue breathing the atoms that I breathe, they cut them from the legs. They seperate themselves from their world and protest that the things that cannot be harmed are themselves, yet they bluntly and carelessly maim what they cannot see that they truly are.

Everything is relative except for spinning, spinning is Everywhere. Where ever We are, relative to the Everything that We Is, there is all ways spinning.

They have this strange fetish with "time", and even worship numbers such as 11:11. Constantly the question arises, "what happens to them if they live not on Earth? Do they take 11:11 with them? Or does it simply diss-appear?" Their consciousness is boxed in, they feel they need something outside of themselves to Be themselves. What is needed is to Be the Not of need. They all-ready are themselves. Religiously, they throw wedges between them thinking that it is Being. They refer to it as "unity". Numbers are of illusion, they can't seem to escape. Their maths are imperfect, the Omniverse is impervious to their illusion. They? All this they. WE ARe they. So much division on this planet, even in the attempt to see that they are interconnectedly Everything. Just Be, Earth... just Be