All The Wrong Topics dot com

the pressurized Person.

when is this complete work to be formed by some creator that this being has become by making up all of this asemic writing taken to its own high art form as the fragments of ideas portrayed Here in a very place from which we can pull the fragments from their unreal state of objectivity by realizing the flow of consciousness into the subject of desire/ attention that never necessarily comes out of any particular object, the blood from a stone is always one of those metaphors that will work for this description now as the literal reality getting a liquid like blood from the dense matter that stone represents is incredibly illogical, but the stone can have so many potential uses for physical reality such as buildings and landscaping to name a few mundane tactics that you have to envision first to reinforce the proposed reality as assured… each attempt to be the innovator beyond what is the known world to any random individual is fraught with hardship even from the imaginary outset through to the mockery of the everyday in its spin of normality ever spiraling out of the pit that desecrates through the harsh fog of confused logic common to senses without direction, injected into the depths of humanity with nothing but a slight understanding of the terrain Here left to decide as to whether we are an element of promotion for static and sedentary appeal making this life conform to some conservative curvature flowing into the obvious horizon so as to not intrude appearing natural to the look of the plain when trying to hide in plain sight, or will we be assumed as assaulting the standard of governmental constraint that eats the bullshit like chocolate cake in the age where the gluttonous and obese are de facto lords and ladies of the new Rubenesque world as projected onto the new futility of coming proportions it seems the shallow are utterly convinced they need to make others obsessed with these ideals of thin to reinforce guilt and shame as a valid threat from the establishment that forces people to look through lens of the metaphor as literal interpretation of what is told as fact… to push the limits of human endurance as that dance of the perpetual rhythm always at work just under the skin, what humanity is could perhaps be described as a non-prophet not-for-profit group of people that are Here now in the real world trying to affect change for the positive which strong contingents of competitive forces have been progressively warping ever since a profit could be turned to the benefit of the corporate structure best, and under the nose of any one official who could help as with the proverbial movement of the mountains that is necessary to tackle before change becomes legislature that is accepted fairly universally… we have gotten too used to a society of incomplete ideas and random manipulations that have lead to the self-policed state in corruption pushing many to the bursting point ideologically as the tide begins to turn away from casual indifference as we have gotten comfortable with it, we are exploring the interpersonal space where electricity remains encoded in the human content within the story of this excitable human sea gathered together like a large body of water into which much indeed is stored as though the flesh were a primordial ooze before we all transition further forward in an acceptance of evolution through form, and the knowledge and awareness pass on as well inside these ethereal crawling vapors on the fringe of time and space as well as intersecting the roaming habits between practicality and imagination as we again can dissect the pieces over and over in the abstract distracted where we are the missionaries and the delivered in this hellish background vision to the angelic image in the foreground representing the small tip of the iceberg floating through cold dark waters allow for few possibilities outside of what is considered certain in this eerie simulation of a contemplative whole… the holographic reflection of what we take to be the learned absolute as it stands apart from the whole absolutely as an abstraction that changes with the viewer as much as it changes the viewer with the viewing, the art is interpreted reality as viewed through the mind’s eye of the interpreter or artist who stands as the prism stands between light and the projected spectrum in the darkness throwing this separation into the air, but this epiphany is more dimensions than merely two plus unlike the movie projector who entertains but need not inform with their shots into the darkened room sometimes into the empty darkened room where it remains unknown what ghosts live between the shows paused still while waiting to feel the people…

Thanks, khet.