Transmission

There was something wrong with her. Her eyes were too much for them to see. She exhaled the exhausts of summer, and came down into the cold and constant dizzying whine. Her mother’s sinister paranoia somehow had projected into her world an array of marvelous delusions divine. She came to her bed, with an assortment of pills, informing her of her condition and that she would not be going home until her soulful scars were nursed back to sleepless oblivion.

How does a window become a painting, or a painting become a window? What odd dreams visited the child as she lay in that lifeless sketch, but the eye she sketched in a dream that felt so real she swore it was and she didn't hide all her eyes. She drew the eyes, and the eyes followed her waking days endlessly there-after.

Ghost town without eyes where are the hints at a hidden meaning. When that strange all absorbing eye in the center of a stained window- it was with an odd distance they had drawn upon something beyond her own. Something disguised, but everywhere, and what was it...awoken and broken
Her mother had always been crazy borderline paranoid, but her innocence and love for humanity shattered. Her daughter saw her father’s and mother’s lives as a book of bipolar moments unraveling, she imagined where they may have been when the false past concerned itself with new possible plots and they walked between the worlds because the edges didn't bleed their flesh was not afraid of new horizons and crossing over before the beast built a wall between us and the future was scattered.
Somehow all the pictures and, the memories, and the secret of his stories remained within her locked in a box. She fought so hard to bring it back, the bright spark her mother sang about as the cinema becomes a cadaver of human endeavors that would cure her depression since her mind could not come back. Dresses in blacks
The matter and difference between freedom and mental dependence. Genesis
The parents bought her books and she was visited by her mother’s friends, before the war before the war before the war that began with a God who hated a man. Her mother always had those letters because no one seemed to understand--that our voices could move mountains
when her mother came back to America, she found her daughter’s sudden madness almost as it were an assault upon the mission. She tried everything to keep her daughter afloat during the dark night of broken visions. There were invisible scars that no one could see. There were imagined possibilities and some kind of electrical activity she had to keep pressing against the sky until she was free. She had to keep waving until it made sense to me
They were almost transcendental, scars that came from an unknown source, like a re-awakening as she entered adult-hood into enlightenment and Buddha-nonsense. They checked her and she ...was the perfect human object to be.
She was at a state that caused such distress, severe trauma or a near death. she was erratic and manic, and in spiritual shock. Something had to be done to bring her down, but their lack of understanding merely pushed her further from the shore of the myriad of maddening memories into resistance of their false authorities.
she refused the six before they melted in her mouth, that made her dizzy and disheveled and to be forgotten about. She got scared and resisted and was tortured but her mind insisted. She got thrown out of the institution . Miracle pills are their false solution after all the torture but it had terrified her enough to keep believing in her disease of paranoid schizophrenia and have faith in the new world order.
It only takes a spark to get a fire going, and this is the song her mother would sing when she was dying to reach for that light--and the light would flutter like an immortal being bitterly persuading them to keep existing, The daughter didn’t know why it failed her, and this appeared to be a strange test of God and wisdom and strength. That we cannot depend on the sun for eternity, we must become our own sparks, our own eternal light cannot fade in the face of these deviant sparks. Sparks eternally bursting within the distant suns of an opposite universe.

 It was like a streak of blood across the sky, the students at the boarding school remarked that it was amazing and strange. But to her it was an omen. The next day, she lost her mind. She was tired of being bullied, suddenly her source of inner wisdom caved and resources collapsed for it was all a conspiracy. It was a traumatic shock to a misguided existence. She had been testing her limits, she had been trying to overcome this fatigue of awareness, this impending doom. She wanted to conquer Death itself. She wanted to aspire, aspire to what ... She had no idea what made her so different then...

She had no idea why she even existed at all. The teachers discarded her, and when she woke up with a lack of recollection and a disheveled madness, a dark anger of hurt and hatred brewed within her fragile heart, and failed to melt the endless snowflakes that fell upon her apathetic staring figure. The student who had been sent to get her, and seemed paralyzed with fear, as if mocking her. She had done this to herself. Rumors spread but the girl never found out how she came to such a terrifying episode, only theories which were eventually swept away....medicated.

Her parents locked her in an institution because they couldn't find the medicine that colored her cures. It hurt her even more when she was treated like a child in the hospital. She couldn’t acknowledge the abuse while being a prisoner. Instead, she wrote it down on a paper for the visiting nurse, and whispered saying that she was afraid to speak aloud and didn’t want the people there to hear her. Girl -alone - so unknown.- no one.

as no such arena had yet existed. The hospital upgraded to a new facility and her scars were once again buried. There were still constant night terrors, staring up at the mirror above. Questioning herself, and her sanity, wondering what her revenge would be for this assault on her mind and body. She experienced such tortures. She wondered if she would even be able to forgive her father as he stood over her in her sickly state, not realizing the amount of pain she had endured. She looked up to him as he stood over her begging her to comply with the slave-holders. She was the resistor- she was being like her mother, resisting to be treated like a subordinate slave. She could see in him such a vast hollow emptiness, could he not fathom this horrid existential and human pain..from....her....diseased.. State.
She wanted to reach God, to touch him, to stop him from his pain. She saw visions of his future. somehow he was the one destined to save humanity. How these fantasies somehow reflected, she never knew. But from one there was two. There’s something internal rising from the shores of a distant sea. She would do all she could to keep history free, and promised to bring him home with her to follow his heart, to know every word because his life to her is worth so much more. She wants him to understand this mystery, as it presented to her in visions of realities before.

I sought to become an inspiration to the lost, to overcome such fears, I depicted an image of carrying her through the Gates of Heaven, which had been closed for so long--and God said he would allow me to rescue her from the suffering of darkness. But even in complete darkness, there are distant stars to reach. There might even be invisible ones that we can’t see, those are the sparks that mom was talking about. So I shower the world in sparks, and hope we catch them like fireflies.
Please for if you only understood the power of love.

And now, claiming the spirit once bruised by the war scars of history. Dreams and memories that are now a fantasy, if they ever did exist--a telescope must be found to find seen the unseen. For all that appears likened to a dream, may become mere essences of palm prints in the sand--of a better time and space, of a distant shore or land. If you can find the atlas to the infinite Place up higher, maybe now you’ll try, maybe now you will succeed at claiming your self from the endless loops of time to beat the odds and rise, rise, rise you eternal holy fire.