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Residues and don’ts.

can’t touch it no matter how much the twitching itching urge hits you, the nails too short to get any deeper into the muscle of the leg even though that is just the mental reflex of the phantom limb whose pain dances on the shadow nerves at flash bulb interludes to trigger a sensation through the brain with electro-chemical signals allowing the limb to be felt as though real, and this is the what my fictitious extremity has become for those that reflect upon the details with great stock for serious thrills as the absurd lurks with weight overcasting the black against the glare of a still life beyond the sun… love as armed though love under will to understand what exactly this law is, but is it that love is the law or that love under will becomes law maybe as general law could use to relinquish control from each individual as a whole unit among the group, are we not the dream of self-sustaining quality we crave in others somewhere deeply hidden?… we might reach into this treacherous heart of ours to perform a show in the act of devouring the muscle for an audience of our choosing when their faces are well-lit, the disgust as the digestion takes place with the blood and yearning trapped inside now pouring out onto the hot pavement that blisters and hisses as the liquid emotional motor function drains from both wound and organ now on display, and eaten as well by the oh-so humble narrating caregiver who is not so much the person so much as the receiver when push comes to shove Here in this violent playground that tries its best to devour us in our times and legendary lives as they deliver… ‘destroy oneself before you can be destroyed by others…’ is a good phrase in this case of swallowing small poisonous pieces of the physical self to harden ones symptoms of endurance against the vocal slings and arrows of those who do not know what you know now, as the strange ghost that breathes life tells tales to all who would want to hear to weave them one at a time from a fold in space and rhyme and reason casting defeat toward the standing opposition to show the reception of their distaste at the momentous occasion we are all spilled onto intriguing our senses and baiting our nerves to scream out against the distinctly oppressive righteous detail as it is participated in by the rest of us who will not fit the elite and static “reality” of perfection, but this does not stop any of us from recognizing the truth revealing our alliance to the machine that betrays humanity by shoving all of us into an oppressive rudimentary process of learning expecting us all to adapt to it the same way… how does anyone ever do that?… it just cannot compute without a number of flaws defying the expert certainty ignorant human beings are given to fitting into with actions that empty their heads of authentically adaptable opinions, and pouring the accepted device of stories interlarded together a funnel and into the ear to drip like a water torture casting out the demons of personal accountability to be able to become another of the retarded robotic mass that follows the trendy extremes of the human excess for stereotype rationality that sometimes floats into being out of thin air, not unheard of in this superstitious existence where ghosts and demons fight for the right to party versus the mighty and spontaneous herds of followers whose ends fall like martyr hammers against the bloody anvil to create a weapon of mass destruction that intensifies with each sacrifice made in this way… the art of war when winning at any cost is the first priority ahead of many others in the way as interests of related parties though not the one we are here to participate in right now, we are artists flocking to cause to biggest upheaval while describing the truth in all the many faces hidden and just as alive as any other whose names act as skeleton keys clicking the turning mechanism into place, but are we ready for this kind of traveling through the depths internal that constantly changes into things that might seem representative of the reality of a hell at some point even though truth flows can never stay completely still perhaps unlocking the inner innocence of the child’s nature within us all… growing up in other people’s reality can leave scars as perhaps too many know already too soon Here…

Thanks, khet.