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grave wisdom.

dress the man as a girl, and see the puppet dance like a fool in the first harbinger of holiday momentum realized for another year until perhaps the fall of this psychosomatic attack bringing pain and suffering to the under-classed people who are working just as hard and harder on more difficult tasks while still others shoot for desk jobs that seat them comfortably where no harm can come to them, this should be where the business fuck must realize that they have bought into the unjust system and are really as bad as the deviant slackers who fit a niche just as much as those office pigs whose buildings are staggering in the heat of climate change and abuse of the resources we have left draining more than we are worth… who has the time to party with all this madness going around? thoughts brilliantly aroused to conceive of a reason to enjoy this darker outlook on humanity at a time when reflection is paramount in my opinion because too many blank stares can take their toll, grinding out chunks of the living chase for glory in a rushing to the finish whether ready or not when taught as education much like any basis for either respect or compassion, but trying to digest this mortal disease, as compared with unease or the term ‘ill-at-ease’, is difficult as our personal thrust into the arena of human experience takes its cues from what we may consider a traditional front to ulcerior (ulterior ulcerating) motive trying to shape and distort our condition through a fear and propaganda campaign in too many areas to count today… ‘ill-to-please’ as valid substitute would cater much more accurately for the ones who want it to be their way and no other person’s dream realized as the selfish whores attempt domination by any feasible feeble means to abuse the easy way out of the working relationship which has served us now for so long that we cannot simple retire these things like people or animals, with a bullet in the head as more complex communication of catastrophe to each remote viewer in the distance witnessing the waste collecting as though dead flakes in the dust shed and blowing with boring winds carving caves from mistaken veneer of merely rocks and surface terrain that humans would have as beings as paved of a skin and blood, and frightening the massive that pulses with raving frenzy to shock and cause harm to this vapid system that carries us and our souls as sour parasitic eggs on its back trying to crawl away with the cursed obligation to whatever this spastic machine attempting an unwieldy fusion of time and space for all of us to inhabit as we would somehow find loyalty for our family or any other relation…