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space feces

floating through a vast emptiness as the particles collide and repulse each other with an equalizing force to create something so large as to not begin conceiving of its’ size until sitting somewhere in the midst of a gigantic organization as tentacles that are lunging unseen amongst the murk and dredge trying to establish some sound order in harmonious collaboration with the strands of outside source as bridges across the sensory isolation exuding out the products of civilian methods to contrast against this materialist desert, much like the virus we are organisms at the edge of life coming to terms with what we have adapted into as much as the environment and atmosphere holding us Here while we practiced a catharsis and cathexis in vacuums centered around ourselves and relationships with others as we come to attack this attachment with the same self-serving curiosity as the rest of this cosmos as intrigued from the fear as much hopeful for a future that meets the needs of its peoples, but of what do we try to relate to the primal versions of Self locked cell by cell inside of our human beings beginning to really question the gritty internal reality to these microscopic universal homes murky and constantly stirring with energies difficult to define at times for the benefit of a dubious doubt taken as truth granted by an obtuse civilization at large and lingering at hell’s doorstep for at least a first half of living within this consciousness like a cloud-bound society of hopefuls ideally moving through the more rugged edges and states of this system… convinced by ulterior motives that the total truth lies just past a horizon abandoned by the sun on horseback strides to appease the ideal of some minds who seek to find justice upon a peripheral fringe of the dusty sight where bright stars meet a brilliant sky and such a sky locks onto a solid floor somehow seen from the perspective of an earthen pathway as trodden a wilderness under our feet seeking more out of a curiosity we cannot explain, though always wondering where we end as the cosmos begins again by ways through some sort of a blood/brain barrier where the seemingly endless flow of a traffic from the material gets registered in with an indefinable quality lingering as residues paid in full by the presence having been inside of this humbling social experiment utilizing the human animal as its guinea pigs ground up on the machinery made by a Mankind whose unkind esteem has guided this perpetual looping beast to live and breathe, or is it merely an ignorant mistake that gives this flavor to history’s blurry aspects that one cannot witness from this far away inside of a futuristic stance to which few things are automatic as they are when events we can barely perceive have occurred outside of our spectrum of knowledge and understanding done against the grain and always talking to ourselves out loud living these debated questions while in wandering?…

Thanks, khet.