part 12 of 2

 intent terror. They scared him
we conjectured
 They were Praying
unusual Linguistics
suspicion faced This Machine
time.  tongue and  tangent
the one spot, examining the answers far down inside him.
they began assembling offerings, to escape the flooding remnants of advanced vision and threat breakdown
magnifying reverent awe
reveals the fragility
of mere flesh to be of no consequence
disturbing oscillations become invisible but the city presented a starker question
and was effectively abandoned
as the Good Lord went dead
He was changing them
overcome with an evolving religion
a real religion
He turned your daily pilgrimage to the warping Machine
into a strange defect
a badly constructed continuum
fury shrieked in insane geography
Voice and Spirit and Word contains it
constructs it constrains it
the magnetic throne In a trance grovels before
proposed posttrauma Rule
The mind constructs reality
common reality, a common dream, hopelessly
frigid and bleak
a dismal echo warped
declared legally dead
Faith negation corrosive coherence
takes itself on the form forward
reconstruction petrified
within the prison
redesign signaled what appears to be a relay column of waste
They were developing about a rather attractive structure built to give blood a place of worship
dignified reliable rational
potentially not a philosopher but a saint as dangerous and explicitly metamorphic as indestructible
cowardice infectious confirms
gnawed by doubt
am I just programmed to believe I am human?
This astonished me, and continues to astonish me
I am perhaps a madman
come to replace torment with
a circular wind accepted as the Deity
Army of the Voice evokes a Word
never named
Made it real, How odd
we manipulate themselves
need control over he that doesn't exist
Of course, there was sometimes only fear, reverence, and hope.
The exclusion disaster-look made him feel good.
establish control over the raw interwoven animal changes
It is the eternal simulation
the tortured mechanism already falling
Of course, we're refusing, system fingers traced the web deathly silent
fission and fissure retrograde ceaseless
void Spirit out of Spirit servants of sparks
Some kind of temple
occult virtue signification designed yet imperfect
Heavy, isn't it?
now, if you'll excuse me, I really should be getting back to my work.