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the cope Aesthetic…

who cares about you enough to shut you up when known that this rhetoric is claimed into absolute anchors this stray bout of nonsense i have reconciled Here for your perusals to intoxicate mentally-accessible muscles that lead us to new continuums left hanging with potential displaced by a few of the wicked hands that guide us down primrose paths toward unknown prospects managing whatever mistakes made as lessons because failure is the only option chosen that leads us to sudden dead ends when all we want are better choices from which to pick our noses up to act out a snob shop chopped of its goods from an earlier time and age an inch or two away from the “we” revealed through timESPace continuity like ours, locked insights a cracked rear view vision set on fire by decisions mocked by memories’ decay and final death as fiends for the phantoms and fodder for the flesh flashing in the panoramic ceramic pew throttled upon by the driving divorce of soul body and skin caught in a crossed fiery wired schism of religious fervor wicks away distress through suffering while sullen and trapped as another pet domesticated into regret or perhaps worser still as yet the victim to fall prey then bloody murder a forsaken depth tread by the absolute sunken dread that is the awaited crypt of unfortunate Mankind phallic fallacy marked and damaged to sort out peace with broken dicks in mucosal drip dragging sacks low enough to tear solace off this carefully-woven carapace of canvas traits and mayhap only imagined as such real qualities causing conundrum to wobble perhaps a little more than necessary though we are to never know the secret until caught off-guard, and just juxtaposed between emotions that change the bloated beast that remains to sit overseeing the feast of sudden guests to this reunion to gestured pasture livid Now forever for what was to have happened as moments flicker into history books page flipped one after the other shades spectrally drawn from sequences curious though considered without as much courtesy to that Other found within as outside of us as questionably perceived from a temporary solid state as made up of individual points of an enlightening conscious awareness amidst segments of slowly vague ignorant space-filling darknesses of various degrees below whatever can be conceived of by human beings as perception… whatever is true grows out of style so easily and quickly anyways that it doesn’t matter who is the rocket scientist until that role is necessary to blow shit into a sky attempting to cloud eyes or burst through surprises before one is an applicable resident to this so-called hell on the reverse side with mercy and justice on the same coin commodity as fiat currents run extinguishing through us and our ideals rough-shod by-proxy, grown to proprotions alongside doubt and their theories take the real humanity hostage without careful scrutiny by whatever trivial representatives are a commonwealth of either state or country or even county when freedom becomes negotiable by trading in safety from a mere grain of honesty in one’s voice that may be unseen or unpleasant to those overhearing strain and loss of the crucial faculties once the negative narrowing starts with the points to reason for crucifying people as young as an adolescent child for crimes as petty as annoyances, but i suppose i have only traded in my absurdity for seriously understanding whose mistake am i anyway though that never needs to be considered a fact of record when that record skips relevant information for simple trash strewn askew and to be played back yet never quite sounds the same as the time they were placed into immortality by way of tape pulled compiled and edited together once the monkeywrench stops twisting and torquing a situation solid screwed…

Thanks, khet.