Maybe the reality, of godhood, has substance, like the ocean, a flood of molecules, of reason, a driving, power, flowing, pumping, the reason, for my heart beating, things you would just have, your reality, if you sowed it, harvested it, your personality echoing, I think the devil is a woman, my wife was the same, I always wondered, why she went against everything I did, maybe when I yearn for her, it’s a rebellion against my father, when we're together, behind closed doors, cheating, I'm not an architect, and I love my mom, but damn man, the game is still going on, maybe I can never really love her, like my father does, maybe my penis is small, but damn do I lust after her, oh Ravinder, you’re so fucking beautiful, we’re a disgusting family, maybe the kids will grow up to see it, or maybe I was just an unfaithful husband, whatever, I’m not an architect, as above so below, I'm always wondering why the Dune hero always ends up with my girl, damn do I lust after her, but you know what, his mom is hot, maybe I’ll get with that, maybe that’s the devil’s daughter, and he’d kill anyone who touched her, I fucked her once, she almost bit my mouth off, maybe it was just my innocence, a generous heaven, but I really don’t want to offend him, I’m just a rebellious son, my reality is so fucked up, but at least I’m not in the depths of the abyss, so far below, in the matrix, how would you even read this, with denial ever-present, maybe a willing mind, wondering how far above, the sky is, I don’t know, I don’t have much hope for it, but I’m not an architect, I don’t decide how the cookie crumbles, how far the West extends, I’m just hoping to get this shit out, on the internet, its better than rotting in my head, okay, I’m going to go, the day’s about to end, there’s probably still a book to publish, man, all this shit on the internet, I’m sort of embarrassed.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.