All The Wrong Topics dot com

Real horror show.

fear makes the man, like a cold reference to the graven images that allow themselves access to my mind’s eye, and somewhere deep inside we find we want to die… that suffering instinct that calls us ‘bad dog’, and we are helpless for only a moment, but that is all that is key to enter… or maybe it is a yearning to reconnect with a certain substance of self that we are not privy to Here… the vegetable mind witnesses nothing from the rolled-up newspaper other than that reinforcement of punishment whapped across the nose, doled out by a bipartisan systemic infection betraying the respect between the senses, and forcing the average person to take sides… the breakdown of good versus evil, i suppose, in one of those diminutive political analogies administered by maniacal zealots until the whole thing goes ‘poof’… dissected sinister leanings as cancer becomes the side effect of capitalism, all the waste and the tender bits flushed into the same cesspool, and the atrophied martyr swill that corrects us in our pacing back and forth… made to beat the awful natural world down, enlightenment shining through the twisted idols washed in a babe’s blood, and the monitor defines the living objective view to those watching indifferent to the struggling they are thankfully outside of… the fear in advertising is projected to simulate truth, to make the mind wonder where there are gaps in this seamless continuity otherwise… to say that no one still cares would be redundant, and although quite true, by no means the end of the argument… even the painted faces lie through their teeth, hissing between the plates of a dread-full mask, and with a voice of sinister longings pushing to fuck the others’ control… there is no opinion for poetry just as there is no worth in art, but for those that can ‘see’, their own imagination can mean far more than simple brushstrokes on canvas… the subconscious horizon line fades as the setting becomes grey with the chill night air, and the bright dreams explode and display such unbridled hate towards your loved ones, there is only regret at being the bastard… without all the expletives deleted are we left insane?… no, just politically correct on one side of the line drawn in the sand, and the ultimate select-rocution of the sensitive matters most vital… a selective charge of energy into the fields that only the elite-most feel can benefit their selfish tendencies, without a simple consideration of compassion for others, and trying to impose their monetary schemes over the commonwealth of the entire populace at large…

Thanks, khet.