🤑A true bachelor pad: one paid for by someone else. 

🏁The true dignity of the loser is that the person who defeats him, needs him more, and respects him less.

Artwork by Luke Meyer

~~~ A Moleman Looks Up At The Sky ~~~

Naked shoes. Wherever he is going, you trust why he will get there. The pathology of authenticity exposes its full instructions, to become read by those watching, his self aware inferiors; in their every glimpse of his consummateness, promptly preceding unvainful digestion, their renewed interest. For those who wander lost for years, there is a higher burden to the daily lesson. Wisdom compiles slower than memory may afford. Epiphanies become forgotten. Yesterday’s bread was never actually understood. Mole men are good people just for getting lost in the first place. It all begins with misplacing trust in protectors. Or it all begins with distrusting that people you love will ever hurt you in the future. It doesn’t have to come from trauma but it does have to come from losing to someone. By no recombination, it’s win with or lose to. It’s all you can do. Heartbreak to a creature of the surface has been compared to sun loss. Debased in muck green shirts and snow boots, with pimples all over his red pasty chin… and chapped lips. Keeping it together in his subterranean keepings. Listening to his parents’ records. Branding the downfall of a local sports team on the front of his school binders: “the bills suck!” scribbled in white out. One digs and piles out of darkness, just only to regain the quantum light that his life constantly seeks. Something about darkness in the way must have to rescind his shameful strangeness, and crude survival methods, austere principles, and other of the like, because his conversion stands, and maybe that is the mysterious pull of his eternal life of darkness exposing what it knows; it’s that despite he is marvelous just merely to defy the order in order to play the order, they don’t even realize that he’s falling apart. Something that lives in his heart in crystal chambers. Something that beats in the electric waves pumping all over his brain. Indeed the sensory of anyone deemed a moleman must serve its function to the spectrum that it understands. So, good and bad, and right and wrong, polarity, duality, all of this remains understood as native wisdom inborn to us all, just as well. Irrevocable. The promise of life outmasses the appearance of death. Underground, life never beams, but incandescent, gratitude is ever true, the will to persist is educated- the desire to be a part is moral- beyond virtuous. Someone who belongs is merely anyone who is here. But respect shall never save one from the press of danger. The threat is real. 

Artwork by Luke Meyer

👷Any process of training trust, or of building faith, or gutwork, or intuition, like shadow work involves a busy face, a preoccupation with a problem, and a willingness to take it, yes, take it too far, just only though of course to end it or if not then at least to kill it more once again.

👻Not just the cosmos, but also your cosmic psychic embodiment that you have formulated of yourself, revolves around your sincerity, your honesty, your patience, your observancy, your dedication, your love, your truth, and consistency, but motion is a forward moving path, ideally, yes, though all motion is circular and meta, or made of advancing circles contained within the lines forming outer circles, for so on and so on. And that is only a truth of motion that is akin to the untorn truth of ancient wisdom by modern physics. All of us are running on treadmills made of globes. Spinning beneath our running feet. 🌏

Artwork by Luke Meyer