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a rage in thought.

over stimulated the regions of capsized terrains, and the tipping, pointy finger of dread, wave the rights of the dying individual over the head… clocking in like the pendulum cracking with foolish daylight betraying the shadowed step, a hole in the wall, and the reason wearing so thin in this distinctive way… like some kind of bad (jewish, polish, turkish, gibberish, whatever ethnically unsound joke fits Here) water torture, the faucet left to run without meaning or hand to subside its pull, the cold duck has left the building… too much fills the mind, the windfall of falling earth through the tightly gripped fist, but with a wicked intent to end at blood red… the feeling is never ending in its solid stink wish to counter the negative weight, that dark-skinned bitch in heat, the frolicking politicking screw-up head rush to mad cap’s jack… these are words to never be spoken lightly in polite company… ’tis I, the immortal, with defecate in hand ready for the tossing… this is the elliptic god as we know it today, ‘the one true god’, but that is a boast to close to the chest of dead men who tell tales of mischief and woe to the fellow traveler down the depths trailing bubbles still as yet… this is water many men fear to tread, late at night in their beds, drifting to sleep with the dead… the coffin lock is not for the feint of heart, the breathing quite deep and hard, another knot in dough like a pretzel or some money… zoolander might show me some ‘blue steel’, but would rather take pride in defiance of what is and will ever be… and yet somewhere we crept from the deep, a solid state from this bliss, taken too far… baby, as yet, not far enough… another social climax in the pocket of unkempt mess, the seed from which all things must culminate in this eliminate shit… which brings me to define the difference between the hive mind and the social mind… the impression is one that we are in the idealized social mind state, but we woefully are not there yet because of the deliberate interference by the hive-minded social engineers who fuck with everyone’s reality just enough to be plagued by ignorance in this lifetime….for too many generations in a row the ‘good intentions paving the road to hell’ becomes quite clear, but we blinder off our eyes as we deceive ourselves into thinking that the paving was natural… it all happened before our time, right?… startling seeds dropped onto the fertile crescent of imaginal plunderables, but the implantations grow slowly, sometimes needing many lives to make the sequences outside change and occur more rapidly to affect the many other lives to be manipulated… acceptance is tool and anchor, holding us to our ideals and actions, but allowing us to let harsher elements wash around and away from our vicinity… a windswept rain to spread the germs further in the pool, and maybe the antiseptic quality will change to allow more free forms to materialize…

Thanks, khet.