Who will we become? Who we were - Who we are- Who will we be

“Brandish” is a verb, not an adjective.

Yes, but, to be fair, you ARE a batshit insane loony person, so we have to take that into account.

In our world, at least.

Well, to start with, I am he, as you are he, as you are me, and we are all together.

Excerpted:

And Booji Boys.

Not to go on all-fours; that is the Law.
*Are we not Men? *

Not to suck up Drink; that is the Law.
Are we not Men?

Not to eat Fish or Flesh; that is the Law.
Are we not Men?

Not to claw the Bark of Trees; that is the Law.
*Are we not Men? *

Not to chase other Men; that is the Law.
Are we not Men?

His is the House of Pain.
His is the Hand that makes.
His is the Hand that wounds.
His is the Hand that heals.
His is the lightning flash.
His is the deep, salt sea.
His are the stars in the sky.

Well, that was rather Moreause.

None escape.

Any more of that and it’s to the House of Pain with you!

Oh, no! Not the [del]briar patch[/del]House of Pain! Don’t throw me in there!

I always thought that was fiefs. When I get home I’m going to have to look it up in my Big Book of Plays.

You’re right.

Our conversations with other storytellers have led to a redefining of hyper-advanced consciousness. We are at a crossroads of rejuvenation and selfishness. Humankind has nothing to lose.

It can be difficult to know where to begin. Have you found your journey? Although you may not realize it, you are conscious. You must take a stand against turbulence. Delusion is born in the gap where consciousness has been excluded. Where there is selfishness, sharing cannot thrive.

Only a being of the nexus may manifest this spark of complexity.

Oh yeah?

Gliddy glup gloopy
Nibby nabby noopy la la la lo lo
Sabba sibby sabba
Nooby abba nabba le le lo lo
Tooby ooby walla nooby abba nabba

So there!

I blame autocorrect.

I think you’re giving us some sort of long distance runaround.

Dark star crashes, pouring its light into ashes. Reason tatters, the forces tear loose from the axis. Searchlight casting for faults in the clouds of delusion.

Mirror shatters in formless reflections of matter. Glass hand dissolving to ice petal flowers revolving. Lady in velvet recedes in the nights of goodbye.

Shall we go, you and I while we can through the transitive nightfall of diamonds?

They move fast, they tell me, but I just can’t believe they really mean to. There’s someone to tell you, a course towards a universal season.

Did we really tell lies letting in the sunshine?

I just wonder if you shouldn’t feel less concern about the deep unreal?

The OP sounds like Charlie Sheen using purple prose. At least at first.