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Spaced CaDebt

ahead off into that place where saints are all well-kept appearances met by public adoring hounds as housed indebted in states of grace were it as everything is all good the rattling out of prayers in case of damage to savor all that is in the way to a purity of spirit, a fatal science of collecting heads known for making their own paths through this sludge called ‘fate’ by some who cannot wait to labor in favor without the mind’s critic a dead weight in the skull to affect change from within as the innocence filters in as captured on the long chain of tradition coiled around our wrists and our waists and ankles with some held close by their chins or necks choked and floating about in this odd limbo, and it is how low we can go to take the carpet out from underneath those ones who are in need of rugged constitutions the most even amid the rigged games of a secular circus fair enough to breed insanity from the simple sensitive population intrigued by cash into service for their own survival through the wildernesses so palpable Here… polluting in a future imperfected by the animal foibles of human ingenuity while being ingenuously spaced out by confrontation with this final of frontiers as fears emit signals of which has us enchanted captivated and ensnared to a frothing extent rabid red foam spits from the lips accosted reeling from neglect, and feeling lost without acceptance and injured by the casual judgments clamoring to make any sense out of this condition in wanting to feel weightless but confused with caring too little about the world around tasking what it wants from us while not questioning orders given, a mobile exhibit of what it means to live through the experience sealing the frozen bytes of data recorded to veer into the lines that crack slipping like a mask off our faces as the aging wears us all down to those grinding shoes a tapping in time to the rhythm of reason aware as what needs are before the others… staving off the urgent lack of oxygen a toxin host severing from the exploring consciousness that has until Now taken overt control of the biological systems pushing for an equal say how this fatal world will work as a thematic background atmosphere in which ambient errs get thinned, in heirs grown from the foreskin knowledge like the patriarchal back of the hand swinging to slap a smile off your face since information is not required to have a compassionate demeanor without first assimilating the raw action turned lesson learned, but are we merely transmitters always receiving this faithless possession assimilating all that it overlays?…

Thanks, khet.