All The Wrong Topics dot com

b s idiot and the Commodious scablands

poetics make nothing more than the human being capable as subtly realizing there is no control without a support to which to anchor discoveries and allow us to taste freedom through the experiences remaining unlimited by any of our perceptions in the out there even when the edge remains a raw and unyielding finger to most who yet set forth their belief upon any personally relevant track of unique viral thought through wildly diverse scenarios jerked around as marionette upon strands of information and interpretation dancing upon various of these integral threads unwinding way too far, and as a threat much too under the radars of the many whose might is based Here left incoherent by the patterns soon mistaken for some clearly defined absolutes made in heady atmospheres of decision-making processed as long as most energy can project in this proper example to reinforce a paradigm of standards uncirculated though can be implied by tying certain concepts with peoples drawn a great vast distance together magnetic by tangential facts splayed out into a deeper foundation of cosmic potentials borne from inspirations putting the best foot next to the other in self-blessed moves sequenced together performing explosive repercussion sets to shake and quake the static questions out of our heads, rather than asking blank wave of faith in those dead souls traveling out leaving living bodies in their wake to make up for any of the hesitation left that continues to rise up growing from the remnants of unfinished business kept silence by unspoken tales of grave importance while mended the mindless self indulges in heedless heavy decadent action passion counter to the projectile society has become as cancerous arrow inherent to loves and labors in breaking people through bondage… condemned commodity passed from mouth to hand to foot and back again though not always manipulated for gain pulsing brittle to plunder when the shit taken for granted dries modesty onto one’s only pair of boots or chin to slogging through these messy situations cowardly drudging with the chamberpot clasped to one’s crown cherishing this burden decided by fateful answers hidden while one meditates on lost prophets for fiat currencies entheogenetic exiles in wait estranged from the appropriate vessels of change, to worship the continuity in amongst those wicked scrubs and thugs who drug their victim passing through a perpetually fascist cycle of catastrophic rituals of ridicule being a worst case scenario as far as particles go conned out any winning progress or process of personal development turns lethal as the doors of perception open and close defining our options with which to further use as these individual points proving choice as the only freedom left in humans, anything more versatile would get lost the wake of casual opportunities lost or abandoned for those others’ dreams searching out other dreamers as that usual blissful state shifts all those shared in visions to awake as the causes provoke one to move deliberately parallel to the instinct intuition and intellect that drive us to conform out of a social system suppling as survival gimmick we all seem to disregard at some dire levels calling upon more than mere observers’ wit to produce solutions instead of a dramatic dismantling of simple tasks when finding ourselves at an obvious loss that words are not so easily used to refine though many failures occur as a response that echoes the means culling the human herd as a flock of beasts to push pretend upon world culture in caustic shades of pretty as taming screw ever-tightening, but unlike the finger traps we are taught into computations and simulations mirror to real life like deft mathematicians finding that righteous error that reveals the glitch virtual making up hazard of life/ death reality requiring all the capable scientists biologists and doctors to doctor as much as any theologan or philosophic scholar put to the issue as confrontations worm their ways in through the current system as only the subjective emotions can calibrate for certainty as breath cold reassuring test of the equation of “feeling alive” a phrase used frequently with some of us when superior cool is the urge followed indiscriminately others choosing the dead suck of terror inside vomitting into the future…

Thanks, khet.