out of Context:
‘the dead beats of the apocalypse heart spread enlightened fire to the resisting heads unwilling to try understanding this mess made before they ever got Here to confess empty what it is they sold as souls for the material left in the wake, this a seething sea of debris and decay as the pieces rust and writhe as machine gone astray as much in the dark as the light of a new age where nothing rules over us as our lives are each so very precious both to us and the people we affect by our thoughts and actions coming alive…’
out of Context;
‘unknown to the witness… the cattle rattle death and breathe their last for the impudent sacrifice to avarice and risk to alter fate with their lives in as tormented a wait for the chopping block as the weight of a grisly ritual takes place, but how far is it that we are removed from this slaughter as caustic disco in which we have caught ourselves in a danse macabre much too late after throwing up our hands awaiting for some thrill ride to take place, the thrill of a moving from one reality into another on a path which none may ever follow into the abyss as recycling of souls…’
out of Context;
‘the symbols and signals that garner respect for those that know how to play these vindictive little games that mute more than one or two voices to exorcise the random ghosts of rebellion out of the system… i cannot stand this rage at an impotent stance neutralized by a credible opinion from out of ivory towers gilded in a shroud of oblivion as a humanity staggering out from underneath the shadow tries as many keys as possible to unlock this doorway as an exit, in some kind of path through all the collected works and versions of this station earth…’
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;
‘this cult war between everyone and everyone else Here, easily part of the destruction of society in this current frame of mind as written in the Now you see before you to be taken with either a grain of salt in a superstitious fashion lightly over the shoulder, or as some trivial marker of history when it was relevant and undeveloped as a wound open but dismissed whether through some stubborn attitude out of defensive reflex to protect anything but what might be considered the sacrificial self whose fate is determined by a holy presence somehow mistaken as independent of the human imagination unlike every other pantheon of gods ever conceived as true at one time or another… things started out as a perfection even though it was one that had no obvious realization of consequence…’
out of Context;
‘we can derive a truth from within… a submission to the workings of this will, as it decides to catapult the self through trial and error to understand what it is that makes these creatures become the things they do, still constrained by the idea that a human being is as easily defined as they are shuffled about between ethics as trends used to place people into windows to display befitting their privilege, and hope renewed to see the good in a person while not the withered stalk from which they grew learning…’
out of Context;
‘floating like motes in the air as matters we have not yet as much care in our indifference to be aware enough to ensure our ability to survive all, but even all the warm contents of the soul cannot deliver one from the responsibility of being born Here in this formulaic state where reversal is commonplace for a seedier contingent of our race whose sources may not be of this earth for as a bit remotely wacky as it may seem as though they were spiritually reptilian of origin… they being those enforcing the powers that be in their heinous scheming scrabbling for opportunities to steal from others more deserving of their share of the world because we all contain value even though it seems as though that other more unscrupulous characters wield darker arts…’
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;
‘again through the back door of the mind into that subtle entrance by your divine lifeline gathered Here for the moment while taking you away from your fears, or perhaps to guide you straight through harm into the abyss from which you first came shooting as shards of splintered sperm oblivious to any direction transferring the energy into a mechanical surging… either way we are allured by a sexual distinction locked in the act looking for and wishing for anything to permeate the shell unforgiven for cracking under this lustful pressure pushing the boundaries much closer together edging us to forward a loving poisonous passion throbbing with horror for those human ways we can be so cruel yet so kind at the worse of times it seems, fucking up the party with our conditions…’
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…’