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scavenJesus…

time makes wounds traumatic in the automatic mechanism of our heads caught up in relentless seeds of drama passed between friends and enemies alike the search for likely allies becomes a trauma in and of itself as these destinies in their tiny myopic views as trained obviousness agreed upon before a righteous thought peeks through the gruff yet fragile flesh going about its linear businesses in pursuit of what dreams may come from nightmarish clarity as violence moodily swings from one side of the spectrally scheming memory moving backwards attempting to figure out how it all began to become this way distant self interest tainted with shame by sham engineers trying their hands at stooping low enough to drop bombs like rain to reign on high in ivory tower fires beyond this human apocalypse stretching the lips wide to escape the droll banishment back to sleep, but this all comes on too late in the game of throes caught into a crossfire death that is heretics burning as witches did though this time it is while being a piece of the mass meat experiment caged in conscious frames to be placed in the trophy rooms of the collected corporate citizens leaving out details of their takeover for the greater good forcing ideas out of their minds to combat and confront the latest natural plague symbolized as the people themselves who no one can seem to trust as children of world revolution simply in the digestible form of statistics static attracted to harbingers of small destinies as dynasties less dynamic and more demanding as the destitution creates real demons wearing a cosmic sphincter like crown or halo might appear slightly sucking in though shitting out for stink witness the worst evil transmitted as armor against the understanding of this place and its obstacles, as the game cannot be told to the outsiders and those that happen to have their eyes sight exposed then opened to these shadow tactics hidden from those who sleep deeply enough to just slip away lost very casually almost trivially these souls and the ghosts left wandering between worlds of past future present and all locales interstitial to the dimensions greatly speculated over by physical scientists and philosophers and seekers of truth made manifest by the forces holding us to our actions until we respect our personal steps and imprints placed Here in a series of sections some may consider as chapters simplified for the many who do not understand these things… as biblical proportions go we are cut up in a few dozen billion pieces of partially conscious information in walking living organic portals of the grotesque turned innocence and villains immediately after in worlds mediated by the biased senses feeling out the story while feeding the masses on pulp and fear to fascinate their nervous reactions raking in massive amounts of the required tickets to even approach the ride that we might claim calls for terrible deeds be satisfied of the utmost secret courtesies, though hypocrisy and hatred rampant at collaborative heights risen to contain success but wholly from the cesspool now left leaking through to reality stinging with these internalized distractions dismissed by the truly myopic pricks that must be castrated by the swift sickle of the next pantheon of vagrant vigilants as the heat intensifies the friction between parties not made for funny but serious ulterior motive that chafes as the exceptions and the general law agreed a disagreed upon commitment to others out of charity and compassionate kindnesses, but this is far from true even as the diagnosis is a critical mistake taken too literally by the integrity of the layers of human interactions and passed informations in wisdom or was-dumb convinces the simplest of us on what reality is as though nature were some defaulted flawed thing to conquer and command in these bodies of flesh and bone excited to become metal and too stoned…

Thanks, khet.