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mad infestation…

the breakdown was mutual… the manacles set upon the wrists… the diseased mind permeates the foul and sanctified heat of resistance… the stink of awareness from the outside world revealing the madness within this maelstrom… the dripping and gooey internal structure fairly teeters with the substance falling from the ceiling… you raise your eyes to notice that stalagmites extend downward toward you, and this pit seems far too small… to express your way out of a paper bag is nothing so intense as performing your way out of a jagged hole inside your heart… this is where things have been taking place of late… the mind becomes far too tight and constraining upon itself to be of any real use… the music is alive, though, and there are few who would wish to see it… this other necessary entity that we hear, but still don’t seem to perceive like every thing else… the chaos burns a soul into the meat, and tricks the brain into thinking for the rest of the animal self… the true self is what really hears the music, not merely the perceptual organs of sound…