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Struggle for the masses.

wholed your horses, smack-jack… there are few terrors worth the mention without thinking that referring to their state will evoke them into physical being, but this is only partly true for the inane beliefs that we allow ourselves to carry throughout life, to call a true name is to tap mystical powers that only those that understand should speak… however, when the “word” enters common vernacular for more than a period of a hundred years, losing strength in meaning or meaning other things altogether creating the entendre with doubly or triply the variation of even contradictory aspects of a real and practical confession of wonder, but revived every time i write from a piece of something that stands out to me as though a state of catharsis were reached in that moment as it were written… scripted antics proceeding through some of the wost material a human mind can imagine just to please to others in some odd ritual of reading thoughts and getting into someone else’s mental perspective for awhile in that posthumous ability people have, analysis in hindsight after the fact in that oblivious horizon swallowing our dreams and hopes and solid gulps of air, water or any living thing that it can consume by virtue of its inherent tendency to break down into many smaller portions of known reality as the various diverse cells mutate slowly over a time… this is what they might call the process of growing up into the adult identity as we know it today, the aspects of self coalesced this physical description of a human being in casual disgrace as it roams about the land looking for something more than itself to sustain notions of the individual performance of progress as daily motion, but counting against the mockery that it requires to become human understanding human ways and means that defy rational impetus by leaps of faith instead of rape… which by that i mean as first originating steps of trusting the experimental experience creating an outline of life to innovation, but then also corrupted by the hasty acts that lead to weakness/ violence necessitated by misrepresented thrust oblivious to realistic consequences as the ripple impairs one of the rest of us out there retelling our stories until someone gets the point, not the misled hobbyist but the persons who wish to emulate any lifestyle that creates a new set of rules impressed upon the individual in taking charge of their own lives through those unique stages of development we are capable of Here… the figures are iconic but not wholly indifferent from our own responsibility for any of the raw aspects in living reality with this cheesy grin on our face, the adults create a code that changes over time but never in our lifetime, and the living unreality requires sacrifice to accomplish even a complete gesture for a continuous dream to emerge into the material plane as defined Here… we are now consuming the mind-to-computer-to-artificial intelligence connection to perhaps build a different body for ‘it’ to inhabit thus freeing those of us that might have chosen to disappear long ago from those who lead the way and stand beside the efficient run of things, but who are we to truly judge any other being in motion until those actions have led to submission to the powers that be, thinking anyone really owns the game being played by all of us together in facilitating the death of another human being let alone millions and millions?… forcing the spatial tortures of hatred in all its most disgusting forms to inflict itself upon the other faceless human consciousnesses amid the ones who are left to rule the world into the next age of stupidity, we stare at the mess oozing out from over our fingers and hands as it acidically stains the ground underneath eating through floor or grass and dirt, but pretending we are the only ones left to survive among the ruins… the solution threatens to choke the sense out of the author but decides otherwise for now as the story builds to the crescendo of a blind man leading the liars over towards the fool’s gold in haste for the secrets of sight, wait that was a different story altogether really, but we are only momentarily amused with this distraction slapped together to puppet a lifelike idea of true inspiration in this dramatic and insufferable posture of seeing what we think to be reality… shoddy magic trick instead?…

Thanks, khet.