Writing Oculus | Part Three

Writing Oculus | Part ThreeI’m going to continue writing this mythological pouring on camera for scienceOculus - First PassOriginal Section Two:Oculus was surrounded—roiling of magmatic ritual. Ownership lost was found in the hold of another loosed into the flow of life. Oracles were many, together magic happened, with The Pythia found it had changed. Stars were born in strangest ways.They fell and came to play and maim. To take and grate would sate much hate. Nether dark and vicious black, simulacrums within the crack.Blowing back would claim her thirst. To come that way would seem of burst. Churches fell and built no more, The Pythia was Holy Whore.Within each sight of gorgeous eyes, they fell to fast—dropped like flies. Every heart would feel her most, that soulful song of holy ghost. Inside, deepest, warmest place, the soul was one of outer space. Calling it had rung the bell, telling tales of more to swell. Clammy hands would find some chaste, feathers made were of the taste.Flesh was sweet and gorgeous too. Scented gels were warmest blue. Covered all had been the charge, simpletons, no longer large. Brain was heart and body too. Her soul was known—the same as you.Throated pulls and belches back, it forged a woman from her knack. Lefty-loosey, right-gone-round, final fury finally found. They weren’t one she felt but knew. He hid inside but chewed into; every lesson found in her, would carve a man, some righteous stir.Oculus was just the thing. It made cocks cum. She made clits ring.New Section Two:Oculus was surrounded—roiling of magmatic ritual. Ownership lost was founded in the hold of another loosed into the flow of life. Oracles were many. Together magic happened. With The Pythia found it had changed. Stars were born in strangest ways.They fell and came to play and maim. To take and grate would sate much hate. Nether dark to vicious blacks, simulacrums were the cracks.Blowing back would claim her thirst. To come that way would seem a burst. Churches fell and built no more; The Pythia was Holy Whore.Within each sight of gorgeous eyes, fell too fast, dropped like flies. Every heart would feel her mosts, that soulful song of holy ghosts. Inside, deepest, errored mace, synching souls had bled to space. Calling it had rung the bell, telling tales of more to swell. Clammy hands would blank great taste, feathers worn had blistered pace. Flesh was sweet and gorgeous too. Scented gels were warmest blue. Covered, all had been the charge, simpletons, no longer large. Brain was heart and body too. The Soul was known—the same as you.Throated pulls and belches back; it forged a woman from her knack. Lefty-loosey, right gone-round, final fury finally found they weren’t the one she felt but knew. He hid inside yet hued two. Every lesson found in her would carve a man of righteous stir.Oculus was just the thing; it made cocks cum. She made clits ring.Of Darkness & Light Podcast - Apple - SpotifyIndependent Research:Schizophrenics Need Hugslet’s get real about schizophreniaDaphne’s Hometree Wikion the proposal for a schizophrenic and degenerative condition recovery homeThe Science of TransnessOnline, Living Wiki(CFA) Coherence Flow Analyticsa relational-geometry analytics system for the NBAThreads — BlueSky — X — Substack - My Writing - ScienceMy GoFundMeplease help me to get by in the short-term — my undiagnosed organizational disability is dreadfully incapacitating in practical matters This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit opheliaeverfall.substack.com