out of Context;
‘this is not the point at all instead arriving at distraction ourselves as we see the reality before our eyes and mentally eviscerate the resemblance that hits our distaste button… we incinerate the incredible world around us, tearing down what cannot grow back so easily while at the same time reproducing more and more into oblivion as the mass sacrifice becomes greater and greater when those dead inside believe they have won, but the human crush lusting freedom cannot escape the thirsty causes erupting from destructive leisure initiating the productions of the subdued thrills to pull the violently degraded wool over half a millennium’s generations of lies coming together at once…’
out of Context;
‘easily exonerate the selfish trends in human cruelty instead as we can try to repent but the sinners aren’t real, only used as a gimmick as antagonist to force us all to pay dearly for our shame and guilt left as residual paranoid indoctrination… between nothing and hope lies the ouroboros spinning out of sight except in the imaginal margin that makes up the outer periphery of reality, these symbols can try to unlock the mystery further with their metaphysical counterpoints, but is unusual among such passive beasts as ourselves when we declare our united competence yet complain still so frequently without the requisite changing of our collective outlook on irrational stupidity… it teases to mentality almost universally that dire urge to conform to the rhythm of universal harmony that can unobtrusively impulse us all…’
out of Context;
‘the subject of this particular rejection, we see the movement on for one obnoxious concept to the next in a degenerating procedure meant for very few humans in the near future who will approve of the speeches made Here… the milked glandular problems of the mental ferocity thinking on the dead awake and screaming, but we will have none of it in this life we are living as though we have never lived before this which i feel is false to forgive in this plastic test tube of a system, an organic and sloppy portal wet and dreaming of somewhere to stick it in with all the rhetoric laid like bricks against this wall i have built with bitter strength with my own hands in the dark…’
out of Context;
‘a veritable Babylonian fall to earth for the billions of skill sets out there, but hardly a job or role that fits quite as well as the freedom to do what one wants to do as though an exegesis to this materialist world we have left be taken for granted by too many generations that there was ever any future to see at the end of this road paved with gold, the black blood of the earth used run our engines of destruction for experimental purposes of the dim and retarded who have their pick of enemies in this distracted land of weakness and bravery that tries to pretend as though saints might walk among the saved for a change in the miserable life we all participate and allow to happen…’
out of Context;
‘just for the thrills, this indifference with which we treat our ills as though the real world were a toilet bowl that needed to be plunged deeper and deeper until it emits a foul sound that follows with a smell of rank and meaty glamorous behavior, but there is no gripe for this fiendsome artist you see Here… the lack of that better half to deal with when you might find the self fiendish from this earthen flesh fair and give awareness as a gift for its forgotten presence in supreme states of leisure, treasured moments at best when well-dressed to suit the date, but what mental imagery is this when i cannot for even one second define the gist of this abrupt privilege wasted that soils my pants with the dread of worrisome concerns…’
out of Context;
‘shedding the tyranny at the outside world lives locked away in the dark spiral universe of cruelty, and a sun bathed red in the blood of the men as they would die fighting as slaves against the sudden and hard-wrought conclusions betrayed by fierce selves as zombies sway in the spacey golden sunlight haze… the culture eats its dead in cyclic recycled machine flares that roar and rumble through humble instinct trans-interpreted again from alternate scripts of binary numeric codes and cryptic glyphs, the fluid etheric emotion in troubled confrontation of complicated equations…’
out of Context;
‘manipulating hypocrisy, and always with a robot god’s face draped in a hood winking to eclipse the harm in the demon actions that have been far removed into a visage glaring in the sun… the odd strains of the voice match the ins toward the outs as the demons come and play to watch the fear as it boils to the surface of my skin, and it drips its drops of sweat under bright lights that taunt and glare overhead like launching into a thousand karaoke songs at once it would seem, the twisted gut approval portrayed by the gnarled things that we most become in our shallow critical waves as applause sounds out in chorus around the room and back again… the tentacle raped itself from the metaphysical miasma of dread that some artists interpret…’
out of Context;
‘lustful portrait of descriptive gesture at some virtual length and leisure, bodies of thought and feeling combined describe the experience ever expanding the functional art of adventure, and how is it that we can project and commit such appalling acts onto each other without ever having met at first?… the faked authorities try to restrict what they don’t know, and all “true” knowledge comes from books and orders and other ideal remedies for this chaos filled with potential all surrounding us, you have to learn defense against the dark arts on your own as no teachers care long enough to look you in the eyes as a human being… giving up much for the most mediocre known… the manufactured perk that comes with the playground as we move up in levels like the games we play…’
out of Context;
‘these bastards in power have the stamp of approval from the top down while no one ever asks the soldier or the families if they ever approved of this… we are traitors to our own kindness as we mock the very idea of respect by allowing the battered bones of the dead to be put in mass graves stashed away like shit beneath the outhouse, and as the unknown soldier groans for relief of duty, the madness of a saddened face jerks to one side to look away… burned and scarred by chemicals used as weapons in the ever-revolving doors of combat that many are pushed through in order to collide head-first into the people trained to be our only enemy, who suffer the same fate as our own ‘Merikan version…’
out of Context;
‘in demand from birth once they learn to sell themselves properly as the repetition kicks in… demon genes that filter through the possession of mankind in the grip of defaced treatment by displaced human rage, we ensnare ourselves with obvious tricks and torments that somehow keep us all in pace with one another, but still it seems a disgrace to be a cruel and inhumane risk to the rest of this specialty grouping in the annals of a distorted history… a compassionate heir to the victory that might be human but more than likely but will be truly alien to us, and we are living in an age of the living aliens walking amongst us at all times, watching the angelic beings perhaps traffic with those perpendicular of mind below the surface of the waves turned particle…’