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this social dilemma.

the life lived is scarred across the front of the facial plates, tired and weak from the hideous trials and tribulations that move the earth around, but is there a key beyond the realm of sleep? what is the trigger that lies deep within the fiery terror that possesses the tormented complacence we are within? the cosmic risen spins with intense portrayal, describes the molten and the unformed motion, and the depression takes its’ toll away from the bustle of the people in flux. the emotional and the physical patterns mesh and weave between the tails and the tales as they form themselves. interweaving, for the collective purpose, all the varying degrees of self aligning into a structure of physics and feelings. what is this that moves through us? the holy or divine spirit? of course, but what do we know about that really? intuition is partially correct, but that is only the core part of it, logic completes the other sense of rightness. where logic and intuition fail is the place at which chaos dictates the answers by luck of the draw. the creatures that lurk within our fears seem more intimidating than they really are, because beyond the worry and horror is who we really are when the pressure is on, and some of us would just let people die all the time. death is a teaser hiding in the grasses of the nether-fields drawing our rebellion towards the ends of progress.

Thanks, khet.