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TinMadDog

bargaining with our personal spiritual guides Here as i do not write good or well or whatever the odd words might be that would fit with more accuracy like magical function of grammar, formulaic symbol of language used and abused to express ourselves this extensively with massive becoming micro chips onto our shoulders taken as burden of proof to the purist levels of suffering through struggling to meekly fill out a simple convenient role in this epic leap of disastrous faith attempt to withhold the energy ill spent like time wasted, but now defend this one last atrocious method to send communication minus a distracted suspense as disbelief caves in my head with the quiet voices lined up in chorus as it is needed for the speaking this forced into the outside wildernesses… the words never to live up to their expectations as are lying littered along the sides of the information supra highways and byways with all their feeder roads leading to a home absorbed organic sum thing as the boldest love palpable and capable to palpitate the fear out of the heart beating and tearing and hearing the same rhetoric again and again as once deeply seated belief turned into sin, distorted by madness as retorted and reported once a melancholy err wafts over the crowded snare set to trap both those willing and this unwilling dementia that craves not to behave but to fathom the absolute depths of a conscious mess like this we all have access to though, and from what i have heard there is quite a bit of conjecture about wheres and whens and how’s this even able to work in such a narrowly defined state of being that all of these subtle twitches and jerks are nuanced into acceptance consumed rabidly by the rapid tastes of people a few of which seem to understand the mayhem involved with this mystery we are inhabited within… further down inside the cosmic skin translucent from our vantage point the bottom of this gravity well done to set us aligned gnashing our canines after insight that we have been deceived by in these dreams given to us by the other creatures all can see as much as those remaining unseen by the naked eye, as nailed shut by forces trying to reinforce the powers-that-be as servants and the masters who stand above them pushing for it all to change, or the mongrel hordes at the gates will break in and take what they can as they have waited too many forevers ago in a primordial pristine shape to snake into a place where it is they do not belong though longing to conquer and lord over the rest of us even further after…

Thanks, khet.