Face to face. Wall to wall. Translucent to Translucent. We used to kill jellyfish that found their way to the beach. Later, there was the plastic container in the Carribbean that may or may not have been one as well. I'm older now and I don't hurt what scares me, in fact, quite the opposite. Sometimes it's the flirtation with ruin that becomes enchanting. The damaged purpose of projecting manifest into future time with misguided attempts to fill that ever-waiting void and gut-wrenching sun-drenched land of expectation whose results are usually followed by a tripped over shoelace or worse.
Placing an object in the potential-forward and then magnetically gliding toward it is the manner in which this life orders itself and is made all the easier if those easy whores, pain and fear, are the ones being projected. It's unnecessary, it's a fucking game. Break those tendencies. Choose productivity, trust and bravery. Go to the source and examine why the detrimental feelings arise. Put something better in the future, it could be free of pleasure or pain, it could be pure, it could be expectationless, it could be tinged with something better.
