All The Wrong Topics dot com

34 degrees of this dys-stress…

no one can stand being the bad guy of their own personal drama especially when it is they that would rather wish themselves to be the hero in the righteous pursuit of a truth though our parents so often give us some psychotic examples with which we can learn to live with in our vermis-brained attentions as though looping tubes sending and receiving electric signals describing the posturing world, this a cantankerous canker swore to us that nothing would go wrong pushing the opposite to the fore of this epic experiment that seems insane as the layers reverse and stack upon each other creating a weaving effect compressing our paradigm like a nugget of coal that is then squeezed by the pressure to become a diamond, and yet with this analogy there are still reasons that none of this social compress seems to come to fruition in the species of human crawling across the face of the heathen earth while still laughing and crying and living and dying oblivious to the garden with the manmade tumors growing up in its place as dead arms unable to send messages along the grapevine with any accuracy… our environment betrayed as our own physiques and a health that flags and wavers while an oblivious ignorance remains to stalk and pillage for new vistas to approach and conquer like some invasive plant whose decisions are enacted to abrade with a chemical infusion, rounding up the end of all fates creating an immortal saprosanct division between the tensions used to stabilize proliferation of these as demonic seething confections presented to the population as a gift of prod to manipulate these themes and atmospheres surrounding us in our daze blinded by the bright lights of futures passed, and our obsessions with a neurotic rotting material as concessional harbinger of this funerary procession exceptional without an end or a simple explanation in the least as ritual scarification takes an active role in the shaping confiscation professional while the movement shifts focus to the excremental state of these games… to seize assured destiny by the lapels of community torment for a problem solved which actually shifts into another problem because there is no cure all, as generalized solvent alleviating the stains of a problematic situation, but as though we were a wider tribe of problem-solvers whose place Here is no accident even as critics condemn these wiles fancy thoughts of decadent dandies requiring discipline…

Thanks, khet.