out of Context;
‘lost to all these other forces at work as their truths come first amongst this more studious tedium steady as some stronger than average bonds are created between those various selves inside people… the shaman of shame have spread their servicing disease far and wide with the fellow peddlers of a mystery too trivial and specific to be mistaken for wisdom bought and sold to whoever is randomly willing to fall for the tricks and the gimmicks, anchored to the decisions we make by the drugs we take as the fools we become stay kids all along in our lives trying by force to control this ideal “growing-up” hole we are buried into…’
out of Context;
‘you don’t trust them with their flim-flam personal displays swaggering to take control if you don’t watch out for your whole, knots you cannot see linked though by invisible thread tied like the rest of us tied together for better or words that decide to sever their relationship forever with our essence in the which where we credit the winner with the glory of the massive a collection of souls weighing heavily upon the face of this earth as heathen as it may seem to be with regard to a killing deity dispatching without mercy, and it is we who become trapped in our own definitions needing to be broken in at least a house-broken way so that we are not responsible for cleaning the mess made after we have left…’
out of Context;
‘the house is empty of its contents, but ready to be filled with whatever the imagination can place there to be held until such a time as it is needed by the owner of the manse in question, a place hidden behind the inhabitant’s eyes inside the head as questionable visions sharpen the screaming nerve within each little thought to drive itself outside as though a demon-ridden assortment of clues used to gather evidence contrary to the idea that nothing had ever occurred… an ignorance taken too far to be of anything other than obnoxious detention of the truth tethered by the urgent hypocrisy that evades anything but some vague subjective definition on objectivity…’
out of Context;
‘heroes who might perhaps feel this way all the time locked away into pens of a preconception trading a near perfect likeness of immortality through expression where great people finally succumb as a caricature of themselves or their causes… no black and white, no this or that, only the grey of oblivion the beauty of grey as silent form of the shadow like a slow decay staking so many people who choose their fears over their feelings too often… it is reality which claims the fascist from decency or the decent urge towards community…’
out of Context;
‘defying the hasty compressed and panicked reality that distorts this picture of sanity into looking like shit most days out of the week before trying to cross over out from after this life on into some other that i alone cannot certainly define to be true, and glimpsing serious spills over into our dysfunctional forms of fun that cater to our caterwauling as howling hooligans who do not repent as this ain’t like no church y’all been in since Dionysis reigned as the given god of the moment… revelry taken to the hilt…’
out of Context;
‘in the hearts and minds of a people to hatch creatures of social perfection out of these egg-like nuclear families whose dysfunctions can be hidden by years of tension laid bare as nerve after nerve is further torn away by happenstance occurrences swirling like instinctual notions inside the cells set to detonate at any instant, a system like this dissolving from dangerous incisions as the reckless decisions travel boldly to the public surface suicidal venting made maximum history upon impact as we decide who lives and who dies so easily without regard for the human life it is caught wasted as fated by a system whose propaganda mantras advertised and televised to the extreme of content as the anonymous majority watches it all upon multiple channels… no wonder the bees are dying off at an alarming rate…’
out of Context;
‘motor soul aspects of the greater being we know as ourselves, and the variables consistent enough to give access between these analytic functions of consciousness and a baser body in motion as the beast resides within as much without as the many decades fitting layers that collapse into place revealing further definitive forces lodged deeper than merely flesh can contain, trying to find traction in the struggle that suffering alludes to as delicate banquet to the senses…’
out of Context;
‘shining as brilliantly as in moon and sun alight the trails through the stars and cosmic expansion narrowed in this becoming the you ever-changing as you are now as always will be, and even as the flesh melts away in slow death sways or quickly as in the emergency state of apocalypse stains that come like rain through the worm hole by state of the art blitz of nuclear hatred abused by shameful masters that plague us with ready disaster… pieces for free falling off into a pile on the floor as the body shatters apart like an explosion of molten hot core fragmented from the dirty bomb made to cure the infidel womb of its’ heathen possessions, in screaming out for more to claim the right to divide and to compare the evils we see…’
out of Context;
‘the deranged sits cranked up with volumes of visions intent in their separate planned schisms manifesting division between all of the senses as they flux and flow with the tensions affixed naturally within people, the sole inhabitant of the head once death has pulled the spirit from this vessel now spent from the voyage from this previous life living casually as though nothing else were going on in the cosmos except for themselves, but not necessarily a world as inhabited by the curious opportunist even though there are many scrambling for survival in taking all the pieces of the pie-eyed dream for their individual hoards…’
out of Context;
‘through this emotional vessel as the night drags day out of its cold cocoon to reignite in the mourning ritual as the phoenix rising from the ashes whether bird of prey or sent flying as the withering egg finally leaves nothing but rich growth in the flaming wake, and society made of stone and steel remains as a skeletal wasteland to turn into tomb transformed into a womb for the rest of the world and its next denizens crawling inside the space betwixt as the swirling orbit comes to rest bounded at all ends by the gods’ suture which fails to mend…’