Past-life Regression

Do we fade away, or melt back into what we once were? Do we become something entirely different?

I wish I could pause this life and then exit quietly just to see what's past this, and then if I don't like it, resume.

Are memories leaking through?

Thoughts, memories, they're all we really have of ourselves. So many say not to live in the past, but it's the only thing that's known, that's reliable, that we can count on. The past is all we know. The future is uncertain. The future may not exist at all.
The past holds the key to everything, it shapes the future. The future is a mewling baby drenched in the sweat and tears and grime of the past.
The past is us, and we are the past.

Do we really exist, or are we just dreaming?
Am I waking up, or am I just crazy?

So maybe there's been an anomaly. Hearing Latin words in my head and feeling like I should kill myself-not out of depression, but because everything is wrong and I'm not supposed to even exist here. I'm supposed to be somewhere else. Maybe suicide isn't the coward's way out, but the only way to pass some sort of test to see if we're strong enough to seek truth.

Maybe in this linear timeline there has been a wink.

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Things change forever. The wink is some sort of reality-altering event.


So this was our time and reality:

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This was the event:

-------------------------0---------------------



This is our reality afterwards, it branches off, and two separate realities on parallel timelines occur:

-------------------------0<=====

Very basic idea. If this were true, it would probably happen an infinite number of times.


Maybe reality as we know it is like the shifting tectonic plates underneath the earth's crust, reality could shift in and out of place numerous times, indefinitely.
Maybe it's like an iceberg, we're living on the surface, and if we delved just a bit deeper we could see what's really going on.

Or maybe there's nothing more than this existence, which would seem pretty meaningless. I wish I could know.

Dominae, Dominae, Deus ex Dominae
Dominae, Dominae, Deus ex Dominae
Dominae, Dominae, Deus ex Dominae
Dominae, Dominae, Deus ex Dominae
Dominae, Dominae, Deus ex Dominae

I am the canvas
shrouded with a halo of data
I seek truth
projecting a white light
of hot anticipation

You are the template
an anomaly of lies
broken files and shattered memories
you climb inside
and infect my reasoning

Haiku

Rippling gelatin
Sea of quivering, fat flesh
you are disgusting

...and out of the primordial dusts I arose and built myself an empire, and nothing can take that away from me ever...

All that's in those eyes are lies

she has made so many untruths of herself

that that's all she has become

she doesn't know herself, she's dead inside

bloated corpse in amniotic fluid.