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Umbilicultus

machinate the human being as an organic code breaker either thickening or in use at weakening these things called ‘chains’ through metaphor alone mostly thinking of the connections linking our social framework together then thoughts as perhaps in a musical instrument or guitar as cosmic comparison in relation to the various string theories out there tied to the machine heads at the end of those bored of the fretting wetting our hands as we play, these games like children not meant for easy reference to summon all the weight of the endless pressure only found soaking at the bottom of the gravity well we have Here where the valleys and fields rich in substance are as natural shag carpets growing up all manner of life up by the roots into the sun’s rays of energy-infused light and the constituent parts further enacting the patterns of living creatures writhing deep as the surface will go, and floating on through swift orbit in a desolate chase for treasured lore and more of those things as kept locked behind the eyes that seek something of the understood with an enthusiastic fear now turned a courage as the globe burns up supplies of sought after resource both as object and subject of these engaging discussions between friends and foes alike somewhere… the teasing of a massive mob mission mentioned as decision made to try fixing those fixated on a harmful intention stayed as the hand of fate turning into puppeteer by humans lacking a faith reinforced by little more than imagination gluing pieces into brittle amalgam as cheap movement tries to stay structured, genetic encoding standard dying to vie for some alternate futures stored kept cold and stocked in the back where unknown history is open for the challenged debating as staked claiming to judge and demand a hassling shock set loose for generations after the fact that has left the building a shitty stinking atrocity as buried surprise landmine time capsule for those choosing to draw their own lines in the sands of life, and broken ribbons blurring impressions from the debris littering a street where finished races are launched trying to chase life on into the next ceremonial phases so nothing ever seems to change abruptly like it did when we were impressionable children whose straining eyes and minds looked onto televised idolatry and an emotional alchemy when devising thoughts in these realms of possibility outside of a living tainted by-product…

Thanks, khet.