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Iconoclysm

so many differing variations of these visions as information rewired recollected and reconnected for within these well-versed versions of who ourself is living this crooked masterpiece out in strange flooded displacement like everybody else Here who wishes to be on some unique ticket to ride among the sheep lords who dine like wolves as they hide their real lips as they’re speaking, lip servicing to be in sync with the rest of the lobotomy straining making thoughtless corpses of vibrant stain as propped upon human being made misshaped of reason in the ablyss sucking the words from right out of our mouths as we labor vainly this vanity of shame lazily to be passed around from one trusted host to the next, but endorsed by very few as the collected tear wears thin in spinning propaganda webs of deception creating humanity’s flocculants without fail by depicting our victorious athletes in dramatic poses to kneel at their feet unworthy to be avatars of these broken gods distorted by gain and defeat… now urging themselves toward a demigod state where everyone is to worship through any attention given to one who’s authority demands them to further redefine the rules as laws to ensure that those people meaning to follow are forced into place, but what of an iconoclast whose path is why they are in such a place as this where it is in which the realm of ideas translates to material movement necessary beyond certain cognizant control of that somehow foolishly maintained of what has remained impermanent to corroding eyes of the system feeding curiosity as reciprocates within this circadian paradigm as the fleeting steps of Mankind’s hideous form of order-keeping is cut out, the warm heart beating rapidly torn loose from a darkened cocoon adrift in the soul of whatever it means to be any human these days the waking of so many dreaming rooms to a view… while a sudden enfolding iconoclasm to smash apart all those pieces well-disguised as wholes in the hasty onrush of motion to reach for valid conclusion of thoughts and servile units in stolid demeanor clinging tenaciously to the traditional folly, as crude clowns subdued by their total lack of humor regarding identity and conformity to the will of others answering the grey questions for oneself, but are we not something more from which so many other things come transmitting and submitting themselves filter through us?…

Thanks, khet.