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Can’t Even Hear Yourself Wank.

what is the steady source of this guilt that surrounds the act when the heart grows cold, but the body still requires a carnal satisfaction in its hapless hollow inside, when it requires thoughts to be in sync with the movements of the form with its heat and sweaty functioning solely for the purposes in getting off?… feeling torn between the urges of substance and the killing imagination that creates our ghosts and fear of entities that we still cannot readily describe, the dissolving boundaries of space and time rhyming with each other to make sense out of the emptiness we may perceive as the void which houses all thoughts and capacity of growth like a metaphysical soil rich in the sensations of reality, but we just as constantly condemn ourselves to just this reality which falls into place in front of our eyes even though this too is an illusion to face on the daily repetition of events… stooped over staring with a dead-eyed blankness to the face, the silence being the perfect time to provoke the secret feelings to overwhelm the sensual part of the soul stirring inside the chamber of the human heart as lust and love become one and the same thing, but there is already traditions of social consequence upheld by the general law as gravity of some morally responsible but ambiguous consciousness as weighty as the mythic gods over our heads built upon by various layers of human thought and need for authority… a glazed grip on reality slipping the occasional object into the anal cavity to shatter opinions conformed by oblivion and fear and hate as the human craves more than merely this, but the mind starves the soul as every drop is analyzed like a jewel of time in the vast memory crawling over the fallen consciousness of angels and demons to be so guiltily placed where they would do the most damage to either side in the vigorous oppositional behavior unleashed by Mankind’s obsession with violence and its violations, basically we have yet to harness the energy in anger and war and all assorted negative bias in the out there that reacts violently with the rest of this primal stew of information locked behind faces and walls of definition by the senses… all the particles resist each other even as their polarities are naturally drawn towards one another, but how to communicate attraction accurately enough to listen and hear without purely assumption caused by complex questions but no simple answers reacting negatively within the human mind built by perception, the ivory towers we each build inside of ourselves to maintain a liars’ vanity for the surface veneer that may look and seem human but relies on chaos of emotion to stay veiled by a celebrated anonymity declared ‘cool’ by popular trend amid the flock… yet universally prevented from feeling okay about the more experimental aspects of the Self we portray while Here managing our lives and leverage in a bizarre overpopulation of both lies and truth each living through the illusion separately, each choice a manifestation of destiny and free will as possessed and obsessed over by reason and justified rationalization as much as conflicting conversation taken to argument levels to understand an issue of importance, but our devices betray us as the users of tools we really are pursuing the perfection of fetish as much as any other artifice or attribute taken for granted in the modern age taking advantage of the soulless slaves gauging the whole mess in waves as the particles collide and thrive and decay in vibrations relative to their most common state… an opinion of owning understanding at all is absurd, but somehow owning property is alright and fairly common among the interest of trading various subjects as commodities to objectify and distance reality for the purpose of better analyzing what it is that we can take from this or that particular fascination that began like some polar shift in the psyche that calls out to a deeply rooted nerve of Self, as stoned effigy in some spaced out derelict warp of time and space as perceptive trace left behind in waves as wake hoping the awaken the fearsome beasts there in the dark awaiting their sacrifice of semen and blood in worship of idols ancient and beloved as mythic forebears in the process of condensing civilization into a catalog of memory and all experience as it occurs to each of us in turn… the complacent methods create the madness that harbingers the end of a formulaic approach that can turn some people’s ideal selves into immortal cognizant clouds of some fantastic god form trying to come to fruition in the consensus reality which becomes the third world reality which our first world illusion denies, where the balance is broken the bias still forms a liquid displacement between the material and the more intangible worlds of the imagination and emotions, and our current culture is as perfect an example as i can think of right now in that the supposed “third” world suffers deprivation in some way whether physically or ideologically though for this example physically is a less confusing generalization… on the other side of this whacked out see-saw is the opposite but yet similar degree of the emotionally-challenged development that many other parts of the world have realized beyond the pure welfare of profit alone, but that ‘Merika denies to its citizens in order to maintain that righteous power of people in large groups as the mob mentality pervades under the Marshall law of this odd human-zombie apocalypse except that we are on the other end of the barrel most times out of a nine lives, and left asking where the desire came from to begin that has driven this species toward wanking the Son…

Thanks, khet.