“CAN I NOT GET OUT OF HERE?”

Sharon;s carefullyy calibrated mental adustments for the karmaic force cease to b life necassary


I wrote thus whilst asleep.
Who is Sharon?

Can I not get out of here?

I cannot get out out of her the necessary adjustments.

The force of a calibrated life.

To not get out of here.

Whilst asleep a growing sense of familiarity grows around the day to come and the day just gone.

Waking and the sleeping submerge one another and neither can quite remember the other.

It is home. It may not be your home. Here is an alluring body, here are a known set of pleasures.

The connection is already set, introductions are hardly necessary.

Beneath the surface there is everything, yet we slide one over the other, always on the surface.

Familiar old patterns.
The limits are also the comforts.
Sharon;s carefullyy calibrated mental adustments for the karmaic force cease to b life necassary

“CAN I NOT GET OUT OF HERE?”
I wrote thus whilst asleep.

The Great Death Pit… little was left of the tomb chamber to which this death pit was presumably attached. In the pit itself were the bodies of six guards, four musicians with their instruments and no less than sixty four women in ceremonial dress… The earrings were large and crescent shaped…. Each body probably had its own bowl of stone or metal, and the presumption is that the participants in the macabre ceremony died by drinking poison. As usual, the identity of these people, their status and relationship to the principal occupant of the tomb, remain unclear. About 2600 BC. From Ur, grave P1237. British Museum