All The Wrong Topics dot com

…step like a Baby…

…critical misadventures Here curiously questioning failures presence looming where my eyes cannot see though knowing somewhere what follows in someone as a fallen pattern into secular routine whose meaty ochre taste of that god upon tongues of worshiper yet to be swallowing what you have got to say for once taking to the limits of literal liberal interpretation of their messages not received on some electronic device realizing actual people are behind screens connected by face-to-face contact with each other essential seeking questions to understand answers and treating as many individuals as possible the same perfection practiced, instilling virtues in some and virtually unstoppable opposition in almost everyone else Here caught usurping the drifting sands thoroughly engaged yet setting back to watch in wait for another pass of circadian rhythms tasked with functional behaviors like angels swimming through the abyssal vast uncompromising unlike humans who give to their vital cosmic aspects what obscure names and esoteric labels they can are tailored as pronounced oral or written traditions straining to catalogue strange phenomena using jargon to fit most explanations and confound others attempting to find cracks in this explicit facade applied to cover your ass superficial plot armor, wearing the excuse until it burns out emotional senses registering actions so ignorant as to refer to it properly as douchebaggery finding echoes of oneself peeling away layers to acquire the knowledge relentlessly saying what you will to retain and contain this unnameable thing whose many names get the better of what you foolishly think this scheme to be words circling at historic intervals vilified by the reckless mob mentality in craving validation but whose myopic bias create the opposite effects seeding distrust and evincing predictions of decadent predilections and procreation conflicting as time wears on from flesh to blood to womb mutating… the commodities limited only by laws and human imagination which has to say that sky is the limit was true when we didn’t know of outside space in atmospheres darkened by obituaries orbiting egotistical attachment to crippling details producing graphic content where some viewers discretion must be advised in order to satisfy safety intensification while the ones who have committed to do so under jurisdiction of governmental authority are consistently far too frail to govern appropriately interconnected to such livid archaic legislation now rapidly having to change as update with technology discovering the latest epoch to arrive Here, sinister appraisal of which will dictate how we perceive these slanderous evocations dissecting moral perfection inherent in these series of combustible sermons whose swirling dervish cringe devotion upon elements of liquid courage infiltrating prolific systemic infection cowardly throughout bodies in motion behind excremental compliments suspected of pander-bearing bullshit unwieldy defensive instincts mimicking a gun instead of having a real weapon for some reason not preparing oneself for the event whether fistfight or apocalypse makes no difference Here analogous to facsimiles of what plausible reality might be most likely on a quantum scale marking reference points for compare and contrast, relative Here to pressure points found upon human bodies taken out of context of course as is a pattern unique to each of us Here although this dancing of macabre riders on the storm suspension of disbelief dangling puppetry to carry stories through to completion occasionally differing narration meaning there are gaps to the rhythm and melody melding to establish any kind of harmony nuclear war marionettes teased in science-fiction scripture audiences are able to follow easily though even this can make retelling the story too repetitive accompanying frustration soon enough building beyond frenzy becoming more white noise to suppress without closed captions…

thanks, khet_:/