All The Wrong Topics dot com

…hexus cuxus suxus…

…a dedicated wit and wisdom to cliched tropical topical restraint contains the brain of Henry Miller perhaps frozen in time and depth like the surmise of old Walt Disney’s head springing from the darkness that eats as much digests our own fecal substance with slow determined ease that defies logic sometimes without the credential to wield such potent essentials of literal references to what expectations are critical Here for some a vital stroke to trigger the obscene rituals that abort our illusory perfection enabled as control because compassion for others must count against those in committing too atrocious manipulations making distinct patterns in the miasma through dread and guilt as markers of imperative accentuation at best, no command over people being as legal as friends who can open one’s heart to warmth of being human when the risks are of possible betrayal can be high and by a certain ratio inevitable as viral amongst these massive fluctuations as frequencies to achieve station inside the mind capable of interpreting these bandwidths and wavelengths to calibrate fortunate footing with the right steps to take as like any baby who is as cautiously fragile as the animals who know not what apex predators adults of the species are Here within the range of most dangerous beast because of the skills of deceit reserved to survive this landscape, barely aware of what is going to happen next even though some of us think they can read the signs accurately enough to predict the outcomes that occur with such severity that this utterly nothing left unchanged in its waking up in light of death creating portals to treasure deeper than those pirated and stashed away as mysteries never solved instead dissolving into the crevices that possess vast potential and careful waiting stages before the process of progress completes its chain of exchange with the time that has passed… delivery or deliverance to be assumed as gifted wishes from the masses can be obtained by sources of penultimate gravity that it gets the better of each of us in our own time Here left to pass judgment on those few things that give any of us a sense of purpose to be found no where else as long as we keep assuming ourselves as the more inferior of the species that still choose to exist in the meantime meanwhile the meaning gets lost over so many iterations as society fights to remain relevant using ill-gotten clout to take advantage, heresy within this cosmodemonic corporatocracy experiment given legs and a means to an end if allowed enough time and space to be at first merely a nuisance then as growth is achieved a maturation begins to creep into the body as adulthood breaches the threshold of every individual Here without exception unless genetics plays a role in said scenario as glib expression of nature’s edge or wrath perhaps inspired by the ire inherent in those lords of nature who think they can, what is right and to what do we owe for beings who plague the world with wrong decisions but somehow burning the bridges used to convey thoughts and ideas almost too frequently to track the signals as though they always ring true are attempting to establish being on the same page after all has long been cataloged as words upon a screen Here for all to see whether chosen or not because of Henry Miller who is quoted saying “All my Calvaries were rosy crucifixions, pseudo-tragedies to keep the fires of hell burning brightly for the real sinners who are in danger of being forgotten”…

thanks, khet_:/