It is where in my mind where everything appears so blurred and the body is physically weak. The thoughts as they are there would come between the dreams as they appeared during the long sleep -- even when the drug induced sleep had played a critical role. Staring at these pages after awakening from a sleep where the dreams inside the mind appear more distorted than someone who has overdosed from herione. My thoughts gathering between the labored coughs as it is in the troubled mind -- the words where in the nightmares as it described that in the being the subject of the present day witch hunt. Where it stands as myself, that one sees as this being inside the confined phobia in the sense of knowing that in the dream I felt I was being entombed alive. It is where in my mind where everything appears so blurred and the body is physically weak. The thoughts as they are there would come between the dreams as they appeared during the long sleep -- even when the drug induced sleep had played a critical role. Staring at these pages after awakening from a sleep where the dreams inside the mind appear more distorted than someone who has overdosed from herion. My thoughts gathering between the laboured coughs as it is in the troubled mind -- the words where in the nightmares as it described that in the being the subject of the present day witch hunt. Where it stands as myself, that one sees as this being inside the confined phobia in the sense of knowing that in the dream I felt I was being entombed alive. With all the sickness inside and the phobia gathering from the years as they are written out in the pages of a writers journal. It described the thoughts among the uncertain being of which that in the mind the dreams wind around as a spool of twine. In the certain that it stands -- this comes in the mind as myself, where the thoughts of the unstable are the most stable in the written page. How would one begin this narrative is the question in the sense -- I fell asleep about 2:30 A.M. the prior night; the thoughts of which being in the nightmares that frighten the mind in the sense that one doesn't know where to begin with the descriptions. Being in the details that one remembers that are ever present is the field of bones; where I smell the slow decay of the dead air -- where in dead air that it stands with the wandering ghosts and black shadows. In the weariness of the thought patterns growing as an unseen cancer -- that knowing where in the mind that I know I need to record the pages before my eyes in on a glowing screen. Where it is in the nightmares reflecting a dirty black summer. In the nocturnal thoughts as they are penned to the surface. Where it stands in the darkness among the thoughts as they are there -- here I am with them, all in the dark and alone. Where in the nightmares in the mind, during the sleep when time passes -- it still feels as that being time standing still. In time where in the sleep; being the details grown from crawling dark inside. In the depths of confusion where it is all that remains -- being in the sense that fear of dying grows inside from the nightmare that suffocates the hope inside the unseen mind. That when one lays in their sleeping cocoon, the dreams winding into the depths of horror being where no on cannot really find the words that are there in the mind among the pages that torment upon them. Even in the thoughts as they remain -- I don't always understand the reasons why where it stands among the dreams, even when I awaken from them they are there in the mind still where they must be typed out. Even in the nightmares reflecting the thoughts of forever -- knowing that in the weary eyes where one sees and faces the horrors of the unknown. Tribulations of the thought transcending in the nature of being -- as it stands from the dreams that haunted me when I was camping up in Ontario. The questions of where one is made winding -- as the silent winds carry the cold from the other craters over in the dreams of were one begins to submerge in heart stopping cold water. Being the reflection of the surroundings around the mind and the thoughts as they wander with the nomads of the dead. Within the indescribable dreams that even I cannot even seek the thoughts that can define them inside. Emotions that crawl with the sickness of the unseen -- were everyone says that one looks normal, but inside everything is and appears all distorted. I sit in with my thoughts where they are the only thing that keep me company among the vast and countless thoughts as they are there. Where it comes within the sleep of time -- forever inside the missing; knowing where it stands -- as it comes to the sense of the knowing. Inside where the creeping paranoia grows as the vivid horrors inside are what remain -- while in the prolonged sleep, where it is in the descending spiral. Where everything is documented while in the mind and the field of bones which it remains; the abominated thoughts where the memories of the uncremated dead are in the open and the air around is foul enough to cause one to suffocate before their eyes. Laboured breathing is what grows as the creature with wings of a raven, and the eyes of a repitle rests upon ones chest in the cold winter landscape. This was something that I can best describe from the nightmare I had when I slept beneath the open Canadian sky. Where everything around them is painted black as the soul which haunts them after death -- that when it dies and remains in the eternal darkness. How can one begin to describe their own damnation because of the illness inside -- the nightmares of the living remain as one continues to die. The sleepiness as one begins to dream among the weary -- thoughts where it goes made winding. Of the wandering thoughts as the dreams shared with the nomads and hermits of the forlorn -- that it stands among them in the dead and waiting to die within the dreams as they are spiraling down. It descends deeper into the depths of hell as one knows in the descriptions and narratives of hell from the years of gathering in the pews. Among the tormenting thoughts as they remain -- one sits to write this as it is written in the mind, pages upon pages of weather beaten journals and diaries where it is tormented among the elements. Where it is seen among the minds and tormenting of the winds, snows and the gleaming moon off the dead snow. Where in the resting mind that when the body sleeps -- the dead continue to have their dreamless slumber. From this is where I have much of my thoughts leading up to the next fourteen days -- the fourteen days leading to the very day when I go to the deep south. In the worry that is there when it comes from the nightmares that are inked and written -- the reflections of the nightmares that I had a few years ago; the new versions of these nightmares reflected the time when I was in Canada but this aspect of the dream is where I heard people walking on the outside of my tent. I wake up and they are not there -- find myself waking up every morning asking, "Is anyone out there?" Then I find myself laying back down and falling back to sleep because I keep saying to myself that I was only dreaming. Where it is in the mind where it tends to give one the creepy feelings -- those that would allow one's imagination to get away from them.
Democratic Dilemmas and Divine Inspiration examines the significance or relevance of the idea that the U.S. Constitution was, as many believe, divinely inspired. How much did that belief matter to founders of the nation and how much does it matter no
Democratic Dilemmas and Divine Inspiration examines the significance or relevance of the idea that the U.S. Constitution was, as many believe, divinely inspired. How much did that belief matter to founders of the nation and how much does it matter no
Democratic Dilemmas and Divine Inspiration examines the significance or relevance of the idea that the U.S. Constitution was, as many believe, divinely inspired. How much did that belief matter to founders of the nation and how much does it matter no
