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Alter the Native

to choose something weighs on us all over nothing as the pieces we perceive passively fall into their places no matter how we have been taught all along as though it was all some design grand enough necessary for the participant to stay absolutely oblivious until the ‘what’ you are required for calls you to itself in an unfazed uncaring pull of such gravity that to deny is the peril killing you, we all grind away at these stones as we have dragged collectively since time sat sat raw and bloodied on our chests from the conquest competing to take a form in this obtuse brain of knowledge cluttered at all sides to the extent of at times feeling this claustrophobic touch on grey matter dissolve under duress of confrontational mockery, and the idea occurs to me in the most random of ways that the chance to live Here can be highly overrated by the natural wildlife as they have been domesticated and modernized into intellectual creatures with soft heads and hard personalities that remain unbent by corrupting forces of whim and washing oblivion fading memory into traps that collect the worship of vague models and idols sitting gathering dust upon the holy shelf where the ancient knickknacks wait for a turn… this dark atmosphere where things roam about that have no names as humans would put them into an order as to categorize the seen and unseen parts of the universe as is the clinical and quite empirical means of studying things the way they are in this world as time ticks incessantly away further building as a plaque on teeth unbrushed for weeks, we are gathered together to construct a picture of what a real civilization could be with the possibility to do more once becoming a fully aware and consciously responsible person that millennia ago were simpering fools of a prehistoric persuasion that didn’t ever know any better than the violence we collaborate and make deals with now in desperate urges to sway the fingers of time back to the beginning with this expanded understanding intact, but this machine doesn’t work like that in this near-dawning age siphoning the dark we have originally witnessed ourselves to be transmuted and transmogrified into the emotional gold our souls truly crave from the back of our throats and skulls to the tingles enchanting the various good times we get to at the fringes of belief and reality as the distinct peels away in equals parts bliss and pain as the picture warps and distorts into rippling storms of valid expression and heated conversations as needed…

Thanks, khet.