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as psyclones

how do we remove ourselves from this tirade charade parade like the box we have been stuffed into as a void where no happy thoughts can guide us away from the dark overlords who seek only to find what they never knew was real before today to exploit the doomed and their decaying faiths as filth can and will intrude upon every aspect that was once human then pronounced as humane when compassion overfilled our hallowed cups of plenty, borne of the burden to collect for ourselves sustaining truths that allow us to adapt to the raging inferno within our hearts which often contradict our minds and a logical thrust into reasoning our situation out amongst the other cattle charged to get slaughtered at random by some of a villainous underclass that create this disease we have all settled upon as the wager to meet as a greater good this civilized destination filled to the brim with all cravens and cowards as well as the best of us, but projected by and through this police state of deflection once the truth-seekers have come sniffing around is intimidation through loud insults and serious cruelty gone mainstream evident reflection of an everyday reality as the streets cloud with massive propulsions of people to protest the atrocious substance our system is addicted to while channelling the inane spin of propaganda all throughout the world to reinforce or dismiss a stubborn alien skin it seems surrounds this structure of dysfunctional behavior… toward grander pastures of potential difficult to separate what we want to hear from what we cannot help but see as the rustling ruins of doubtless ages swept under the carpet as a throwback shag layer of the brutality ancestors had to endure to get Here in the same boat as us funneling the mystic cosmic dust through this organic machine thinking, being solid yet knowing none of this is as permanent to perceive as ghosts in a greater machine of purpose as we have been made to believe from each our own starts in this life as the gradual collective hive mind of information still wishes to know itself from all available angles of analysis as much as instinct to see through as eyes unclouded in a vision of seeing itself connected to what we receive as signals, or some warning signs that we needed to drop the dead horses off of the ship for we cannot survive on what little of psychic rationalizations are used to prolong the doldrums as depression scrolling through these dead seas on board in atmospheric conditions seen as broad in one’s face as the others wet with worry and anxiety and wondering what is it the time will bring as the forces of consciousness liberate us from our bonds preventing us knowing how to catch sight of the truth when we see it instead of focusing in on a more obvious manipulation cum misdirection to convince the rest of the current giving birth to novel ideas in trying to reach toward states of superior standing mere imperial inches away from metric standards…

Thanks, khet.