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A pin-prink puncture punched through perception - the feeling of sheer light spitting through the point, raging through, skin-splitting scream. Untameable power what’s on my mind, shatters my thoughts, searing through the Self. The pin-prick holds, with its spitting-light, and every cell in my body quakes in its wake. Who am I to hone this basic primal beat that is not me, nor not me? Who am I?

Raging light, observed calmly, spitting through a pinprick in the mind.

Tanatantric Summersault

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