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be he Moth or be he Man…?

burnout minds terrible wastelands filled with buried riches calling out all loose stitches who would care not to dare the listening too closely though beware that rage of whatever you choose as muse stricken for as there can be few whispers carrying conclusions come to those as certain individuals without the spirits to protect them or guide to mindfulness attentions on through terrain fielded as no path prior to these details logged by human expression noting onto the medium i would dare compares with as a key spiritualist maybe during the seance session whose method mediates a meditation between the act of altruistic madness fascinating art as fatalistic swirls entering a schism of fates on through the most occulted weird entrance into this world of devotional ‘spunditz’ preach whirling deviant dervishly serving then no human wisdom save as thuggee swerve pulling punches, but truly striking out against all of humanity scrying to decipher the crypt and its silent salient knowledge lifting elder fascinations to some higher realm in which respect and value are these words puzzling patterns interchangeable terms upon caus-mological degrees distraught distracted agency as natural charisma urges us focus forward to steady the swaying possible paths seen a beginning lingering from an end endlessly searching for a right to righteous catalysts that fill the spaces betwixt these periods memory and dreaming Now realizing themselves… collusions between time and space creating experiences of these extrasensory perceptions fleshed out in real time virtual reality as the avatar of life atavistoically guarding the monotony of a neoteny that we have grown up into similar perhaps to the bonsai kitten of meme legend now gone by as the bubble continues a limping loop of continuity a swiveling zeitgeist of action acting on consequences containing loosh lush in living energies wild with whimsical predictions posing a futile picture of images in motion as televised fortune takes command of world politics within warring society gone strange talking circles around the real people moving mountains to sustain the access to progress relating to a very general state staring at a screen monitoring who does what as though it might matter in the dramatic aftermath counted on to make the numbers ordered in positions making sense to a select assembly of parts harmonizing in conflict, as a broken vision shattering the mirror about to cast the fairest to the floor as a gutter whore gone insane from the burden of the game crazy as it is cunning wild animal adapting to loose but difficult constrictions nonetheless, flapping furiously toward that bright morticians’ flame burning the mortal out of both ends as machine that fails soon after collapse cutting creatures down sweeping a custom collection of creeping doom holding a captive audience arrested spot on lost in the underfound ideas quickly pissed away running about water in the sewers underneath our feet where where we humans have lunged manure flush against the drain to assure a sanitary sanity occasional as sleep when we can get there without pity wiping our faces with the feces that crusts into dirt and grime on our manic meaty mechanisms organically in an avoided cleansing coming to a calcified set of conclusions sweaty on bodies writhing thinking nothing, but drugged and dragging feet while a version of us enjoys this slurred blurring speechless decision fanadict medicated purpose making music to medicate one’s own modern disturbance digressing into a rich plethora of metaphors and magnetic layers quaked and shaking our moral core loose of the master mess made that we are in hailing back to an oceanic fucking bliss when twisted the wrong ways…

Thanks, khet.