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Become the Ghost Machine.

swirling neutrality inspires the sublime attitude which lives beyond the body as temporary unit and temporal traveler within this spatial nexus always in the middle of fluctuation somewhere virtually translucent with this many in a massive of people spread across the planet linked through the shared experience of survival amidst mind-shattering oddities against any successfully functional living conditions for almost everyone as pressed together as we, we repeat cycles and habitual moods of symptom simply taken for granted the way they recycle and also circulate the winds of change no matter the toxic debris left by these cancerous humans in their collection of feces wiped around each other like war paint mighty in the dark and destruction resonating in the rubble of a never-ending struggle with finding that a perfect and lasting formula for a civil authority needs to guide and NOT control the people whether it is through issues of intimidation or sales or friendship, and it is the beats of a dead generation from which we are reflecting from the heart rhythm clashing contrast to the melodious mental peaks chattering off the soundtracks to our lives without irony or loss of joy made incredibly common and banal within the confines and comforts one is predisposed to enjoy in this society where music is one of the last remaining keys to another place altogether more harmonious to this soul-ar power… the world soul is quite distracted by our displayed animosity in the vampiric and parasitic forms rending the earth impure and impotent in this wasted state as officiated by those public councilors we declared sane enough to handle the day-to-day affairs of running our society with our weak social drives individually when inundated by the group politic for no better dive than the reason of survival, to plant the dirty seeds genetically modified war games messed with pretty minds opened for the next dose of apathy the beating things in empty chests were not made for this emotionally wrenching tug-of-war between flesh and folly brought to the boil drama of humane toil in a droll line of questioning ‘who will win? either the gods or the monsters, right?’ screams a battered brain looking to certainty and a pocket of reassurance to function a little more smoothly than previous planned, but this wouldn’t be a problem had there been plans that made any sense to begin with as the humans stumble and falter over their preening words of denial considering the lands that Man has defiled as dictated and passed down by generations of imprinting and insultingly disgusting reinforcement by an authority figure in action defending the polarities of god or family or home at points all three at once while working to manifest a glory that a few would be capable of denying with rancid and hollow expectation discomforting the general masses to sickness and death… the sea of shadows dances across the night dismal as it approaches unsuspecting prey for a transfusion of the negative phantasm abysmal coming from the yelping mouths going on to make current situations worse by leaps and bounds of faith in bondage by the narcotic eroseptic (septic and erotic) swaying of the beasts upon their knees, praying to the gods they cannot see even the gremlin cancer shapes itself under the skin of a decadent consciousness enraged as much as it is engorged upon the bloody succulence that comes with this kind of absolute devotion to praise and bewilderingly vague ideals that command to hold holy not the logical respect given to creatures like you or i, but a writ of doctrine not even managed by the originator but by a handful of flawed yes men who know not anything of any kind of mutual greater good that everyone participates with alongside an oral tradition to keep the energy of faith alive even if the figures change through the vectors of time… not a slip-slide melting but an oozing cryptic and dark from the underbelly of the beast we have been and still become as children running loose and wild through a haunted castle that shifts and cracks like ice under the weight of all this raw unyielding data, humanity churns out the saved with a savior attempting kung-fu-action-grip to keep the flock of sheeple (people who are sheep) in line by exercising force and muscle when necessary to keep the bloodline supreme and pure by standards too outdated to matter in any way important, but this does not stop the malign forces from throwing its filth into the ring for supremacy as vied for wherever the match can extend its natural boundaries until everything becomes absorbed by this game…

Thanks, khet.