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this Art official.

the mannequin is drenched in threads of all colors swirling together as the peacock fool in love with his wet brained madness of ego that fulfills all desire like fuel with which to inspire the other writers who glimpse only a moment of these words before all my desire has died inside of me, like a clenched up fist that retires the life i have lived up until this as a gap in the grand generational gray matter prepped on the table, and the lamps are lit so the vessels can glisten in this open err in reason… accepting the steamed-clean blade of the scalpel in one hand to suddenly slash the eye being held open by the other hand, this is the art we want to see with death as an obvious risk per say, but is this the truth stored behind these ideas we are in the middle of perceiving so frequently whether through televised observation or complex calamity of real life playing out all on its own?… the weather is over casting a spell over my eyes as the space betwixt the air gets less hot within the depths of this pit of hell where humidity hits the soul with deeper penetration than some obscure encounter in the sweaty darkened streets any day of the week, but where humans move with lumbering lizard grace with every step weighed down like gravity’s worst enemy on a bad day, this is where we have placed the agonist distancing the soul further from the decrepit utensil of the system casting a judgmental creeping light to scar with a ray shooting down on the human animals with sunlight when it turns daytime concentrated and piercing while cauterizing wounds from the laser heat… to burn through the force with a ridiculous amount of heat and flames that could effectively wipe out the driest parts of livable land held for government insemination of populace replacement aligned with far-outdated paperwork that will not relent either for good or evil purposes alone, but the shifting of these imaginary piles of debt and interchangeable skills for trading damage is invaluable in this pseudo-real world-at-large in the face of consumer capitalist pig dawgs on the way to a heaven filled with stuff spoiled and left by those last generations before us anyway ignorantly thinking perhaps that it would all just go away, the sad tragedy we have lived with but covered up for a few decades at least after the first nuclear bombs had ever dropped or power plants had exploded… on the frontlines of a meltdown between the various pyramid schemes of power at odds with one another about the rules of the game we have Here, and all those innocent lives we have at stake like a prize buried in the dirt left from the last few hundred bombs dropped just to keep the peace through violence it appears to me, a looping merry-go-round where no one seems to be satisfied with answers while those that are resemble wild dogs with their bones and meat slashing and growling in defending it against their own kind over what they believe is so rightfully theirs when in truth this hoarded resource is owned by everyone… an unrelenting negation that humanity somehow finds quite comforting to witness the degrading of anyone other than themselves as we all find ourselves trapped Here for a certain timeframe that in the end might only seem like a split-second after the fact, but we have yet to see a reality that does not try to bend the rules of the place once someone figures out even a few of the tricks, which sometimes work only on the principle that you would have to fuck over another person like yourself… what kind of kill-or-be-killed general law allows this when so many people are there to suffer the laws openly?… we give no credit or time to anyone who comes to harm now, but the paradigm shift is well on its way to our present day which will let the reality we know flip on its end, perhaps finally giving a chance to those less-fortunate than the worthless whores possessed with distinction now… we have yet to see evidential proof…

Thanks, khet.