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Prohibition’s Edge

i am not the host, an organism that houses this doubt, and yet i stare into the eyes of the screen… blank as that flicker flashes again, the snapping parasite tendrils smack one back to reality again, and the sparking membrane behind the eyes gets curiouser once the fray turns dim with that bastard thought tapping down another round of an empty Morse code… hunting and pecking at the keyboard that speaks as it devours the insane as well as the living in their dim awareness of another place than this, it is what lies beyond the surface that floats up to skim some truth off the waters edge as skirts that twirl ecstatic inside my head like dervish whims trying to break free of this melon, but i will assume the duty as perhaps a guide through the vivisection of this reluctance and ignorance on the parts of prohibition as has kept us this stupid awhile… certainly not the person i figured at first as i had so frivolously threw my lot into something almost a month beforehand that would take far more of my energy and time than i had actually given of this events’ point in my significance as creative promoter and main responsible leader, i often get high and see this as no particular flaw of mine as while in the right state of mind the perspective shift that takes place is a positive one without too many negative repercussions as i try to remain curious and unassuming in my approach, and careful to avoid smelling of fear too much as that kills all the successive wins that might occur through the implementation of worry and the second guess that more approaches the neurotic at the worst end of the social spectrum… basically, new people scare me and my paranoia is at times too vicious a voice at the back of my head that it leads me outside of the average conversational dummy reflexes that are usually polite in fresh company, but my harsh way seems to readily reject these standards of social interface to the point of making myself blot out others’ in a crude sense of self-certainty that afflicts me like the emotional bubble that deems unworthy even those that earnestly act to regard me with respect… filled with mistaken identity as i shoot for the vision while retaining the ability criticize from an outside eye’s judging mind as it feeds into this divisive man-made monster that looks just like us through the rear view of life, but lacking the energy and risk of excitement we might have originally spawned Here to see as the living beings to be in the form of a local wildlife and an ecosystem funded and provided for by the vague motives of corporate excess and an applied experimentation to create a better society from within, a rash of bullshit thought police trying to terrorize more than just a country of the decadent and time-delayed souls staring out toward the sea hoping to fit the puzzle to themselves with little thought to how one fits into the puzzle overall… i feel as though i toe the line while towing the line like an anchor to mediocrity as heavy-weight effort holding each one down to build society out of human bricks solidly stacked together to suffer the press of this system’s total consciousness, the sum from all these parts of consciousness we display and progress along without thought sometimes for the other person’s placement inside of our personal struggle deceived by all the right words placed before the ears and eyes of that individual’s intake of information, and thus a strong clutter of emotional static can affect the rational person like a psychic attack minus the warning as a surge of the callous general law flooding through and channeling its way into our stream of speech as tensions rise… i took the role and never planned ahead the slightest, except to buy a microphone for my bass amplifier that would have come in handy and still will no doubt though it was my own lack of any forethought that subdued my participation in the occasion, and allowing me to shirk my responsibility as any other coward would i suppose even though my incredible propensity for bad or incomplete communication stunted all movement forward… this is my sour poetry as legacy of emotional baggage and insight all at once as this total package barrels at full-steam into your bloodstream as victims of my decapitation at the hands of your wasted attentions which slice and take out of context my words anyway, whatever lines you wish to use are free to abuse with the effort of the magician to please the audience with the tricks that can make the most money for whatever vast opportunity it is that ends up applied as science selling an accent upon contact with the unusual, but this is an emotional trance we can wake up and walk away from much like the sense of humor evoked by the comedian displaying the ideal human observations of the absurd that find a root in that lowest common denominator in the daily existence of the social construct… the door remains open for those who wish to gather and relate their experiences to one another in terms of valid appraisal of information instead of bankrupted dismissal for something more palatable, these conscious decisions affect all reality in slight ways that might individually seem trivial eventually they stack together like those previously mentioned human bricks to paralyze new thoughts once stagnant ritual takes control, and nor is it a complete loss if i didn’t show up to party and partake of the splendor as my nihilistic expectations could have ruined it for me manifesting as insanity brought on by being careless and thoughtless as to what preparation needed to go into this project to jump it into life as the retardation washes over me without hesitation… becoming officially an ass.

Thanks, khet.