the result of anticipation becomes nerve-wracking to all unjust levels of expectation… whose movements reek of asshole, and the tension grows stronger, wronger even though the word is not implied… thought becomes the harness of creative pistoning, spitting negative energy out like a centrifuge, and it flies out like some weird and incredible rain… the intolerance is strong in this one… the beast of feeling becomes very much like a bomb, and it seems to disintegrate the other perspectives involved to such a degree as to call it something else entirely… is it any easier to lash out with emotional energy?… the grinding abomination that human can become is so much more laced with spite that the flesh hangs off the features in anticipation of the next flawed move to decay into nothingness… this beast, this skeletal mass, is …
wired into the feeding mind, we grow weary like cattle, the societal umbilicus is our meat and our bread and butter all in one horribly convenient package… for a packaged age, sealed in plastic with our best intentions in mind, and the plastic becomes part of our bodies… the hearts of animals no longer replacing the hearts of mankind… soon you’ll be able to be attached to your computer, and then you will never escape an internet between the information Here and that which is there, the virtual will be connected to your head but I don’t know if you’ll appreciate it… where does the rebellious sensation to just disengage come to be real?… is it real for every body?… like some great circuit, perhaps the circuit of god, but no matter as we face an equally intense horizon …
wicked are the varying types and errors here…assumption the new consumption of the ailing forms…the description is the painful truth warped by the visual perceptions…queered and mistaken for wrong altogether…time tears at the flickering wounds of nerves on edge, licking with a tongue frustrating the ideal search for knowledge, and other jealous minds approach the same conclusions in synchronicity at those most opportune times…the screens shift when you photograph them properly, like ghosts in a cheap horror film, and the effects are very much similar to the over-the-edge way in which people seem to deal with their lives…dealing with the ghosts at-large within that demon shell…spirit worlds flicker in our mind’s eye, drifting deep and hard in the gloom, and the shades part to display the noonday sun…catching glimpses at the absolute worst moments there…when you see those daylight …
a sexual deviant works to understand the flawed methods to finding love, with bouts of intoxication and casual sex and diseases in-between, oh my.
my fate is locked in tightly with yours, but the avenues for release from the present state are terribly limited. the understanding defies the reason, and the reasons defy the proper logic out of the chaos. ordered thoughts might seem the perilous undertaking. ‘Nixon Void’ beckons from the dark dead subconscious of archetypes unborn. a string of letters and symbols that conceptualize into empty anti-growth. a nihilist is breathed into life, and yet, wants that breath taken back to wherever it came from. spite and despair bring this “thing” to us, and we all have to face our demons down the barrel of a gun, an image that denotes our futile narrowed vision. we are lead around by the bells, ringing to create unendurable confusion, and we meet the intense things that be. overtaken by the bullets of implied …
As the worm turns
it spins with the earth
yet is as fully separate
as the humans that walk upon it
the matter lies flat over the worm
the shockwaves from running feet
across the dirt as the worm swims
feeling surface moves as it goes
frozen by time the material loosens
as the worm drives its’ way
through a darkness that needs no eyes
a place whose pressure grows
less where the worm has passed
creating footprints in the dirt
making it less a hiding ground
it becomes by then a stomping ground
Thanks, khet.
You think you’ve got troubles…
There are some things in life that are inevitable, from the things we need to survive to the ideas that become reality within decades, but what binds us together makes the whole stronger…or so I had come to believe previously. It is not difficult to feel forsaken by the world at large, and to feel infinitely alone through the view of a keyhole, the eyes of the voyeur taking his place. This feeling has come over me, and hasn’t seemed too unreal by my standards, though everyone else would disagree. Descended as never before, through the ecstatic pains of poverty and kind words, and yet I must see this thing to the end of its’ supposed journey. The laws disallow me to sing praises to my fellow human beings because of …
So, Here I am again…The Deacon…But what to say?…Heh. Confusion lacks the authority to state any valid word emitting signals from my brain…This the first installment in a comeback special introduced to help me re adapt to the “blogstate”…I can’t think of much more to say about being overjoyed at the return of access, and the change of scenery, from the ‘inclusivity.info/communicates’ to a dot com…So has spoken I…
Thanks, khet.
The silence of waiting for something eclipses the silent tension caused by getting to know someone. Faces and facelessness both teetering on the brink of the forgotten. Hearing the small sounds in the finest detail as the moments stretch to an unreal clarity, but the world is still compacted into this slowly moving stretch of linear vision. Somehow there was no way to make this narrowed focus any clearer except for understanding that dangling element of boredom with just as much anxiety as now.
Carrots swinging on the ends of imaginary sticks by strings, the visual wasn’t very appetizing to try and move my attention away from this ever-expanding moment in time, and here the edge of thought was kicking me screaming into the void. Where there was no hope for recovery away from this immanent cataclysm. The nurse moved …
