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Rejection of the tit.

the spike in growth hormones signifies something… the unreal provokes the ditch-shallow stench of the undertaker’s cloak, the shovel long thrown to the side, and the grave of humanity lies further down in the earth than from a purely scientific stand point… cower the sour assault on this digression of the bottle-fed lead weight society that deals in fear like it was water to be bottled yet again, and recycled straight from the sewer hole sweating with condensed frothing filthy scum and whey, the chaff is already horrendously absorbed by the great big death machine whirling around as more than horsemen have appeared to take away the spirit of life… the manic and oppressive forces that be Here to devoid the static complacency that holds no formula for world domination, but instead forces the majority to conform to the ill-health of the state the human beast is chastised within, the wholesome cage with no keys and all locks are held tight until the game is closed… that fear factory mentality enveloping the whimsical wondering of creative schtick and shock to the stayed and true solid arrangement of soldiers that march in line to this vague assertion to destroy the human segment of culture, but what becomes of the fringe bred in a wealth of deprivation both emotional and cultural that learns to adapt like the animal to this suicidal semblance of a truth, it crutches along on shards of the heritage of broken souls that it shares with the world mind of experiential data… taking for granted all previously known quirks and putting a categorization around the likeliest suspect in this technical war without wording things correctly, and putting vague connotations to every other statement that is put together correctly with a flare for the inimical stab or taunt, the distinction counts against us because we are so easily to perceive what the case is not in an attempt to wrap our brains around the more quizzical aspects of the absurdity in life we are given to get or understand… it is the epiphany revealed within these layers of guilt and fabrication showing what makes us who we are, gasping for breath when the air is too thin for a complete presence Here, and yet we allow ourselves to be overcome by these senseless ‘yes’ men dwelling on the precipice of the abyssal threat with their gestures of confusing and bedazzling the sheep in mock wolves’ clothing to follow in step to the rhythm a loss of self creates… in all the wrong reasons, there is no way for the real to abide by these shoddy substitutes for law and fairness, but Here we are again on the tread wheel like the caged hamster in heat and awaiting a mate to pawn off as some careless drag on the strip waiting for a john… as any john will do to dump this load off in a rush… the head rush maddens the senses while giving innocent bystanders the chance to react properly, what etiquette does this proper terminology sync with its low standard set to convulse the masses into pleasurable dumbfounded fits of sedative bliss, but we have imposed this ignorance upon ourselves so as not to hinder the process of advancing technology… the reluctance of the animal once it has realized the actual plot remains priceless in the amount of time it takes for offending villain to run away, before base and primal mentality of anger prevails to spew the hot slag of vile incredulity at the petty and selfish acts of the human torn into oblivion as the perilous notch hits its pique, and it is at this moment that anger transmutes into ill-repressed rage and harsh consequences to those random acts perpetrated by the unholiest service-to-self mind fucks… they do so much to act against all better judgments…

Thanks, khet.