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Life as a Plague of Games

how is it that the crossroads seem blocked by the spirits we recognize, guiding us to a light and life outside of time to this flesh-based realm of heavens and hells taken too far to register discretion to anyone but the authorities who waylay through tricks of their trades with by-products that claim not to assail their customers even though this is false when witnessed in a laboratory setting, and this land that is your land as it is my land is the experimental foreground where this all occurs for better or for worse we never are to know until the right goading prefers to reverse a prior choice to keep these others in the darkness of the ignorance and suffering like twitching ticks unaware of the system it feeds its’ life-form from… made to believe in this freedom of choices chosen for us in forums that made us look like bugs to overlook as perhaps shadows in the night that one cannot see until the glance caught at a distance that frightens and intimidates us, the trusting is made with the maker in mind as if there could be anyone who lives up to those expectations that were not on their own as we work confronting our own internal systems corresponding to the greater domain in which we live as we surround ourselves with wishes and wants fulfilled as the time goes on with or without us in particular, but we are not utterly without a convincing impact upon the world as it grows vines and surges of brush around our manmade conviction to subdue nature in all its’ glory because the inherent chaos undermines all our sacred vision of glory as we wish to superimpose this onto some parts of this immense wilderness now mostly filtered out through the lens of control… the prism is shattered and smashed to the four directions by the enchanting force that began all of this as a story to fictionalize the elements that were real before humanity had ever sensed its’ first stuttering steps toward the precipice to appeal to a hidden god who will never ever reveal the truth, we are that truth embodied to create the world that we would perceive ourselves to dream of piercing that wall of sleep to sustain this grand reality without intrusion of hostile forces as they try to splatter disgrace in the blood of their enemies all over the halls and temples of power, but our living gods who require love are driven insane by this incestual madness as occurred before anyone could begin to explain anything of any worth or value or respect as these are concepts fostering the sensitive civilization we have been striving for in untold aeons now… the real heretics are the ones who refuse to see and stay open to the active truth that does not stay idle while others allow their minds to stagnate and dry to the traditional excrement they have been fed for ages since calamity was a vital motivation on someone’s score board, though the games are now convoluted in their rules and regulations defining the space of the gameplay as it requires players to adapt to the system as it stands to work within it as it might distract one away from reality whatever it may be other than actually sitting off to the side trying to hide the relevant facts from the rest of the tribe, and trying to isolate those who take sides by deciding to become the villains drawing the lines everyone has to stay tight inside contradicting questions deeply embedded to retain a quiet version on the exterior to extract the living inferior to die in this tribe as sacrifice to save the others’ lives trying to divide the divine and conquering with mayhem and delight at the same time… this plague is a sensitive affair for those locked within the death throes that have gotten them Here in a waving pool of fear and sweat and the kind of paranoia that drips stink off a corpse when the paint has worn down to bony lies that stick and protrude like knives, and it is Here where more careful readers will need their wits as the games become this residue thick to choking hazard for the young’uns who have gathered at the feet of their god to pay respect with their sex and their blood as the guts fall to the filthy grates below them to spill into the open orifices of engorged cannibals standing in for this brutal god’s digestive system, sloshing the junk and garbage around in cesspool swirls that as they move to other sides of this vision searching for victims with creatures in their wake who consume the leftovers left to survive for themselves in this harsh place tainted by this teasing taste on the tongue that humans can never win without some cost pronounced like law or a commercial product worth buying from these demons as they begin to demonstrate their powerful persuasions as propaganda to dissuade the masses from getting too far away from their fetid stench and obnoxious intrigues… upkeep access to this waning system, dismissed indoctrination…

Thanks, khet.