Automatic Writing
Sent in by a Guest

One day at like 5 in the morning i began typing, not exactly automatic writing, but it works with typing. i thought i would share my experience with everyone, and here it is:

<start>
happy, funny movie
sad, insane undertones
like a drug, dxm trip
weed knowledge
halucinations
deep understanding of everything with misunderstanding of nothing
sex
orgasm
screams
backwards
reverse
movies- fight club every 5 minutes
magic carpet ride
sex
knife in back of trol
pornography
deep shaking bass
this shit
painted toenails
red hair
nudity
symbols
sound
travel
space
morninglories
face
blood
hair
duct tape
the need to find someone who can understand
underlying fear of everything that is absolutely nothing
nothing exists, figment of my imaginations
video game
everything being where it is without being where it is
or where it's supposed to be
nothing happens
nothing
everything
sounds of things past
memories
sounds
breakdown
hash pipe
feelings
mind's eye
love
fool
heart
strange feelings of nothingness
feelings of remorse
remorse for feelings not felt
beatles
sounds
games
playing
box
cd
balls
cotton balls with blood from the pain of the heart's fingernails beating 
against a purple painted background with daisies rising in a puddle of 
epiglotis steaming with marijuana smoke, giving the sense of dxm in the 
brain
just writing, bringing the spirits' mind to the forefront of the emotions 
with no sense of nothing bringing everything to an abrupt, yet somehow 
expected halt
nothing is everything to the one who has nothing
everything being something in the eyes of nothing, with a feeling of meaning 
in a world full of free nothingness
the brightness of dark in the trees planted in the sky, leaves of green, 
with blue roots in the clouds
clouds of smoke from a pipe not filled with legal things spread throughout a 
feild of virgin girls, planted in the mid fall, doused with illegal liquids
knowledge of ill-fated past bringing forth the bowels of the mind, like a 
tidle wave of information in a system which cannot understand, nor convey 
the true nature of the data, crashing to a halt because of the faulty mind 
sucking life from every crevice in a planted speaker in the sand
soudns
sounds
speakers
feelings
reality
virtual virginity
strange sense of everything that was
but nothing that is
other languages
strange beings
the feeling of presences in the room fills my head, yet i know nothing of 
anything which can be thought of by me or any other being, feeling the hair 
on my head softly caressed by one who is loved, the feeling in my legs of 
walking, yet sitting still, strange noises of cats breaking windows
jerking my head to the side--this isn't real-- yet my mind says it is, 
sinking into the abyss of nothing that is slowly becoming everything
life is perception, nothing is real, but percieved by the mind when it has 
nothing to see
a joke
a big fucking joke
nonstop riding through villages of nothing nowhere, not being seen by no 
one, but seen by everyone who isn't, while dragging along nothing without 
paying something, being without anyone, yet needing someone, something
the look in your eyes as you read this, is that of disbelief, of preplanned 
insanity
insanity is not pre planned, nor pre destined, yet it happens as if someone 
knows
yes, no, maybe, sure
i say it is, therefore it isn't
blah blah blah
finding help in nothing, yet finding someone who understands brings shivers 
to the back of my neck, yet my mind is unaffected
wanting something when nothing is to exist, yet nothing is better than 
something
hours of shit, this, shit, this, think
think about nothing,
everything
something
explosion
proud baby
invoking thoughts of nothing, yet everything seems to fit together
a blind mind's eye in a sea of blindness, shown the way buy someone who does 
not see, but perceives the reality of there
misspelling and misunderstanding
understanding the reality of nothing that is everything, bringing thoughts 
of delusion to the eyes of no one yet everything is right
the number of someone who can understand, yet appears not to, mind's eye, 
redness of nothing bringing suspicion of something
a different level
levels of nothing, but seen as everything in a world where only one level 
really exists, yet is told of many, and percieved to be many, really only 
one
the level
the level isn't level, but crooked
dips, humps, given the thought of multiple levels to that of a 4 dimensional 
being, yet in 5 dimensions only one level
thinking out of dimension
thinking of nothing for something of everything in nothing
boggling the tiniest of intellects with what is percieved as nothing to 
everything
please, thank you, nothing
bye, goodbye
goodmorrow
tomorrow
sleep
goodday
never
ever
yes
love, not feeling it, yet it is there
skipping blue jay way
i cannot control this, it controls me, i do not mean to make you mad, sad, 
or anything else, i do not want to make you anything, you are you, and i am 
i, and that is it, beyond that, i am not saying anything
space, of nothingness where nothing exists to everything
feeling of bliss, in an act of nothing bringing sex to a front windows
you should come here, the place where i am, inside myself, a place of bliss 
and feeling, feeling of nothing that appears to be everything, love, loving 
everything, yet hating everything, loving everyone, hating it all, sadness 
is sad, but happiness is glad, why?
existance of nothing
i dont' know what i am saying to you, i know what i am saying, but i don't 
quite know how you are taking it, and it can be well misunderstood
the level of existance does not exist on the levels of non-existance, yet 
all is one level, where dips and troughs in the mind's eye, sees that love 
is not love, criticism in the form of love, where nothing becomes everything 
to someone who is no one in a world full of no ones
normality is the problem
this is not a problem, you say it is, but it is not
this is how the human mind is meant, it cannot be stopped, but by artificial 
(so called man-made) things that stop the level of humanity on the level of 
the inhuman- same level, yet percieved and thought of as different, nothing 
is everything and no one is everyone.
someone needs to see the light that my mind's eye see's, understand the 
reds, and blues of my reality, not theirs, to provide a basis for the 
purples that are percieved in either world
light is nothing, yet has characteristics of everything
mass is nothing, yet everything is mass
no, i am not quiet, i just don't know what to say, i say it all but dont' 
know if anyone hears, and if they hear, if they understand that i dont'
understanding is in the mind's eye of the beholder of the knowledge that is 
attempted to be passed along to someone who will never understand
i want you to listen, to open, to not only listen to what i am saying, to 
hear, to see, to feel what i think, what i see
not seeing can be everything
if i read this when i return to the original level that is this level, will 
i understand?
ah, see?
exactly, nothing, you have to see that nothing is everything, i want you to 
be here, i wish you were here, i need you to be here,
this work is for nothing
i know, i have told myself this before, i existed before you, i knew before 
you, yet i did not feel, not feel such things that i am not only feeling, 
yet hearing and seeing
this is something i must do
something i know what you are saying, i type a response before you ask, 
before you say
strange knowing of things that have yet to exist, yet exist in the level of 
the mind's eye in the plain of non-existence
dont' know where to begin to explain
i dont' need to explain
the magical mystery tour was neither magical, nor a mystery
10 am
time is not time, time does not exist on the level of existense, yet on the 
level of non-existance, everything has time and acts like time runs 
everything
informing nothing to no one
soudns
feelings
the touch of your fingers running on my skin, like a sin of a non-christian 
feeling like not feeling
into my body these feelings go, breaking all barriers, changing the thought 
of nothing in my mind when everything is so strange it hurts
loosing nothing, like thought as a boil on the mind, popped when expressed 
in any way
just waiting to fufill it's destiny by swimming on the surface of the tongue 
awaiting the sense of need to transport information to the masses
sand on the beach of the mouth, writin on by someone who cannot understand 
what he is writing
drawing pictures that cannot be conseved by his mind, but only his hand
when does it end? does it end? did it begin?
overheating like the appliance created by the very thing overheating
sleeping, the level of nothingness that provokes and invokes thoughts of 
everything when shutting down the other levels of the mind, yet it is all 
one level
sex
where has the feeling gone? where does this go? and where has it been?
i felt, i had feeling
yet now i feel nothing for no one
why does it make me happy? should be sad, but happiness is glad, and sadness 
is sad, yet i am glad, but not happy
fly on the monitor of the mind, a pest, that diverts attention from the task 
at hand, life, the task at hand, i will not remember life, so why try?
i need
i need something
i need
SOMEONE?
is that it?
do i need someone?
but i have myself
myself is only who i feel i am
i do not feel i am
like you are bringing thoughts into my head, and i thank you, you are an 
unwilling source of infinite knowledge
who are you?
you are only who i feel you are
why do you exist?
do you exist?
do you feel i am the way i feel?
do i feel the way you feel you are?
strange
music
piano
organ
heart
you know, yet no one has told, and no one who is me has said that you know
my mind shutting down my body, too much work, cannot sustain such a level of 
something that is nothing, need rest, yet mind does not stop
why did i not sense this before?
you are the one
not the one
but the one
the one that is more than one, yet is no one
no one in your way of being the one, yet sees that she is no one, and in 
third person believes that she is no one, even though she is everyone
to see
to feel
to taste
to hear
to think
don't be, at all, this is something new, something i must embrace, and feel, 
i must think that i feel what i am
you know it
but you are not at fault, it is not at fault, nothing is a fault, there is 
nothing, what you are being sorry for is something that is made up in my 
head, nothing exists to anyone, but to the people that exist, and i do not 
exist, yet i do, in the minds of other people
no regrets
hair, such a thing of beauty
i do not regret anything i have done with you, or as a result of being with 
you, i may say that i did regret cutting my hair, my source of everything, 
of balance, yet it brought the sense of a new balance, of life, of living, 
of being someone who i am, and not who i think i am
believe
it
the frail feeling of my fingers which cannot contain the information that i 
am percieving to record for future use
such speeds were meant for human thought/comprehension, yet when one sees at 
this level, it is percieved to be different, bad, to be something that needs 
to be contained, but it isn't something that needs to be contained, it is 
something that should be embraced
thought is something that comes naturally, but you can be persecuted for 
your thoughts, for your actions as a result of your thoughs, and what your 
fingers do to interpret this to the outside world
existance is soemthing that doesn't
you know, yet you don't
fire
everythign is a fire
burning in existance of the mind of the only ones who exist, who see 
existance, therefore it exists
burning
a result of existance, everything burns a place in the mind of the ones who 
exist, who feel, who think, therefore, always relightable with the fire of 
existance
to be burnt is something that everyone does
to be burnt is natural
natural is being burnt
fire is natural
nature is nothing
do you see this? you understand this? wow, you do, that is strange, i do not 
understand why i didn't see this before
before doesn't exist, now is everything
the past is everything, now quickly becomes the past, the futures will soon 
become the past, yet now is everything
now is not the past, but the past is now
i am sorry, and don't say that i shouldn't be because i am, i wish i could 
have understood, i would have understood, i tried to understand within the 
boundaries of my own mind which were nothing compared to everything
i am not sure, but i think i am getting there, but wait, there is not here, 
soon, time, time will come, mine, yes, you have said this before, i am 
sorry, not listening is something human, and humans were meant to think like 
this
what is a human?
someone who has discovered his or her self to the point of nothing, to the 
point where everything in their life has become nothing, and nothing in 
their life has become everything, yet there is something in their life that 
keeps them living
love
love exists only as it does not exist
i love you
you love me
what?
that doesn't seem to work, everything loves every human, and every human 
loves everything, people do not love anything, and nothing loves people
i want to say that i love you, but i dont' think it is appropriate, i do not 
understand love, and i can only say that i have seen you, i have heard you 
above all else, i have felt you, i have tasted you, and i think of you, 
constantly, yet is that love? i do not know, i feel you, that is all i know, 
i sense you
fear is only human
we have nothing to fear but fear itself
who said that anyway?
and where is he now?
he isn't? oh, well, then why is it something said now?
we do not know him
we do not know us
it is not about what i want you to say, i do want you to say something 
though, i want you to say what you think, what you think, no matter how 
insane you think it might be, if you think you just wanna hit me for not 
saying, or if you wanna never see what i don't see, myself, or what, jsut 
tell me what you think
we do not see ourselves
we see mirror images that we percieve to be what we are
but we aren't really, no one is
we are what we aren't, that is everything, but we are also nothing
the same wavelength with someone so far away
just sitting on this level with feelings of the other levels creaping in, 
fatigue, yerning, having to urinate, but it isn't real, it can be surpased 
with the thinking of what we are
we are not
why is life life?
crying is the thinking of the other level creaping into the level that you 
feel now, you shouldn't cry, maybe you should, it's your mind, you do what 
you want, but your mind is something that you percieve, nothing is real, 
nothing exists, and sleep won't help
i don't understand what i am feeling, i feel i want to be a part of you 
life, but i dont' really want to, i want to be a part of my life, yet that 
doesn't happen because my life is only what other people see of me, what i 
really want is to know why? that is what everyone really wants, if i end up 
being a part of your life, i will be thankful for it, yet i will not want it
life doesn't exist
existance has no life
what is flight?
flying is the sense of not being grounded
not being grounded is insanity, so is flight insanity?
no
not at all
lla ta ton
i don't want to be a part of your life
that sounds so bad out of context
something i do want
is for you to be a part of my life, to listen, to see what i see, and to 
hear what i see, and to feel what i see, and to think what i see
these things may overlap, yet we can only want for our own lives, do you not 
want me to be a part of your life? for then i cannot let myself have you as 
part of my life, seeing past what we want is really ideal, but ideal is what 
we want
feelings of mistrust in the air like the aroma of a freshly lit inscents 
stick
i will only be a part of your life if you want me to be, see, we cannot want 
to be a part of other people's lives, we can only want for other people to 
be a part of our lives
as i said, i cannot want to be a part of your life, i can only want for you 
to be a part of mine
my fingers keep moving, i do not believe i have typed this much
no, i am not, i said that i do not want to be a part of your life, but i do 
want you to be a part of my life, and that we cannot want to be a part of 
someone else's life, only for they to be a part of our lives
i am typing what i am thinking, and it goes round and round, i think what i 
am typing
ic therefore im
you have to see what i am seeing, you have to see the side notes, hard to 
understand if you do not
this feeling of oneness
something unlike anything else
sweet dreams
we can only hope for sweet dreams
dreams are the pathway to one's inner mind
what we see in our minds are what we dream
what we dream is what we see in our minds
dreaming is seeing that which we do not see
seeing is not dreaming, but believing in those dreams which we do not truly 
see
the end for tonight
hopefully i will see, or experience you tomorrow
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Thanks for takin the time to check this out and possibly posting it on your wonderful site. keep it up.

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