All The Wrong Topics dot com

…suspects unusual, as living Void, a planless we…

…spaced out between sessions on cold display Here criticized though never sized right alternate stations on which to tune into frequencies frequently mistaken as voices from gods above in surround sound swirling around harangued by our predecessors assessing access to our lives currently harboring this atmosphere of ominous omniscient dread as aware of us as we are of it exaggerated frightening strikes in each of our hearts so hard that some aren’t equipped for the ride and thus fade out and die from the rush stacked upon the inability to sustain this survival task no more we can only try, the adventure for ourselves breaks into various points of requisite attempts to get things right or you lose your life as that last gift given to all of us Here gathering evidence that we can bear the brunt of these forces behind the eyes trying impulsively to see blinding everyone who will not see what they choose to envision upon this level of conscious execution in regards to any action undertaken token and otherwise beyond dominating wisdom extruded through the backlogs of historic events felt reper-cussing out ages after they are left resonating aurally with intent against others most often, surely knowing we all die could help us come to some amicable conclusion instead of endless fighting amongst each other Here ringing in new years with bombs to undermine the function of what has already been established using people without any ideals to do the dirty work unaware that they are massacring fellow human beings in times of warfare because the image has distorted into one of the enemy only truly realized once the damage is done and the fires go out clearing battlefields now graveyards revealing levels of destruction solitary confinement correlating to social isolation in concert with entropy… creative processes often stunted cunning wit comes caustic too frequent to progress the needle past the vain to vinyl where it should be interjecting noise for heroes wrecking that music for zeroes whose crisis becoming laborious even when not brewed inside the laboratory properly as property of the mind intellectual appropriation counteractive to the whim of the people because we have all been consistently driven sideways by the collective defense of bored increments in arduous torture amorous more often then not for this punishment personal reasons excuse illogical circumstances which entrance those uninitiated to wiles of the tempting larger world, strategic manipulations cradling medications we are made by various means to apply ourselves Here any kick in the spit on the faith organisms organized in rhythm have to this pulsing void searching for someone to speak its language properly though nothing ever truly cracks open the cold collected objects which become our carcass carried off elsewhere by those trustworthy enough to see the warm blood underneath before it rots yet further away in states of decay affecting all dead mannerisms now that we are corpses laying prone and vulnerable to be sliced and diced by those professional to certain points, Here that they can cut and measure death at their leisure even when paid and on the clock as it were but nothing not oranges are bound by exact clockwork miniscularity once breaching reality our time frames are virtually set as they are where they are by hands of god we will never know until we slip back behind the ether guiding us all beyond the eyes sometimes reckless oftentimes restless though the unmatched champions on this heathen earth by far whose corrupted ego psychodramas become legendary stories revealed to us as time goes on preventing more than relentless soldiers…

thanks, khet_:/