All The Wrong Topics dot com

no bologna Brony friday

it is difficult to say how magic friendship really is from this lone embittered perspective perhaps hellbent on retreating from steps taken last when the test came to the contrast of ideas berating quality of depth to which finding myself irresponsibly throwing around terms half-strewn of the brain like ‘beating a bum rap’ that’s been hanging loose around my neck for years now like the well-framed critic whose near-untouchable intimidation to be used in mocking me, and a furious audience taunting my subtlety of technique as at first we seem to enjoy each other’s presence in the short times we have Here soon erased by tiny bit as the tension melting our second opinions into formative opponents combating us internally in the urge to face this social reality figuring we might ride the waves or weather the storms together on this friendship, so many psyches have experienced these urgent sides to people that lack something in their compassion or courtesy towards others as each we face challenges unique to us in attempts to try to some how in among all these separations of personality caused through psychic damage and fear perpetuating itself to retain an ideal sanity level to allowing such the subtle system an application of humane to humanity… there are questionable seers in this continuation of the quest as doubtless problems each we fall into place trying to find an easy signal or sign to display the richness of our own ideology through symbols and languages already there to time ourselves in this questionable realm for accuracy in the outrageous throes of fortune upon what we would try to seek as this living drama seeks to do the unfolding, materializing in idolatry and sacred fetish for the young and willing forever in youth throughout the compromised oblivion as commodity caught in dreams lost between death and desires unable to tolerate the derisive dividers undermining our prowess in adapting this jungle in judgmental consequence to defend our inner selves from the monsters trying to wound us and yet to convince us that this manipulated suffering is good for us, but it is what is not the case that blinds our urge to decide which of the options we have to choose from no matter what the sacrificial plan lays ahead of us detailing a supposed map of distinct routes and thoroughfares that will guide us directly wherever we wish to go in this life whether we try or to decide we won’t go anywhere at all… differentiating the subjective curiosity between walking a path, and watching some other person’s decision…