my art & dreams Archives - All The Wrong Topics dot com

…deifying variations in search of Solace…

‘…only local to the person themselves discovered from their own pursuits concluding absolutes Here the real world beckoning all of us toward adventure contradicting many sheltered opinions whose lack of compassion and limited foresight creates selfish fiends coddled as divine from birth, every curse remains all surrounding reaching further outward to those sensitive fostering patterns afraid some breaking touch slivering web shattered glass twisting our window of the soul to open lenses through applied pressure of stress from somewhere outside the awareness humans are currently capable labels with bizarre abstracted relationships to topics selected with appropriate attentions to detail gesticulating though no idea to what depth or shape that ships should be as dysfunctional yet floating through this holy see without any proper guiding vision…’ – out ov Context




…the Metaphortician or mortician for your logic…

‘…silly, until we swerve convinced the status is static creatures of the wheel in the desert of the real serving no purpose kudzu from your crypts crawled within this everlasting womb of gods tomb stunted cunning gropes outward quoth from the mind as much the mouth traveling glyphs shifting biologic searching out reasons to take up residency in your head as well as they grift across seeding various sides of the argument askew never any good days to be the bad guy permitted rude destabilization tactics distracted by feelings misdirected secrets packing much death machinery that humanity is at default… in that we must pay our debts or else difficulty struggling to not disturb psychosis Here through the fetishization of inspiration into despondency once one crosses the threshold of boredom listless emptiness making people restless…’ – out ov Context




…Ungod and the body of broken thoughts…

‘…under the auspice of ignorance anxiety society reigns supreme provoking the invocational skills to succeed amongst sociopaths held in regard as commonality of billionaire class walking the heathen earth destruction sublimating the grindstone… nosy persons percolating up to the surface looking for solace in expiring virtues highlighting the vices most obvious apparently fueling dueling aspects of humanity all throughout its history constantly stirred up into an alchemy of elements drawing disdain from those whom cannot see the shape of things to come Here taking so many parts of awareness for granted without hesitation or second thought wondering as to what is happening concurrently with every other piece of the puzzles in motion respectively somewhere the balance is maintained as though potential prophecy yet fulfilled by what needs to occur…’ – out ov Context




…dense conditional Kalopsia resides within us…

out ov Context – ‘…seeking their fortunes much as we felled from imperceptible aliens to these humanoid forms grasping at straw men faulty arguments towering opinions of toxic phallic symbol inasmuch whose machismo fades quickly space-time continuum funereal blues when intrusive at worst, resistance is fuel for the starving systems in place the entropy of random variables Here information theory attempting encapsulation of terms and services conditional mood wandering scarred by the questions without solutions the average level of uncertainty machines of loving grace upon battlefields already domesticated now manipulated for their topical resources typical conflicts that enslave us undermines shared spaces where we sit typing away necessary data entry withering in front of screens fraught restless and struggling against distractions nervously harshing our mellow…’




…caught sublimating this Phobic strobe effect…

out of Context – ‘…atmospheric pressures upon us all disintegrating fortunes maligned futures with nothing to offer but hostility staking claim on our hearts and minds shame blame and guilt weapons of psychic warfare in these events, words falling from mouths of rotten mumble sleeves clouding up the genuine brainstorms to be better than the mutants we were before this combative with every element until they too fall under our control commanding trying or dying in the process obsessed with precision becoming machine worked collision and wreaking havoc with fury to break up the everyday chaos swaying us as pets on leashes waiting for days to roam free thinking whatever thoughts will come whether unwelcomed contrast between negative and positive connecting patterns brought out collectively or not searching for circuits that share their energy instead of restrict…’




…still, Burn the fingertip, as ghosts in the obscene…

‘…primeval flow ebbing inevitability medieval to one of digital evils pegging witnesses held in this criminal nursery colluding to commit crimes of opportunity accountable across all spectrum of lingering absurdity as libel and liberal vivid sectional of self though easily lost in the latent conversion process into covert and decisive missionary co-modifying this cosmic lemniscate together designed for blatant militant actions conveniently positioned scurrilous terrestrial extras lodged Here useful when necessary to cause crippling offensives by humbling the opponents one faces where diplomacy means never having to reduce oneself to throwing feces as long as such conflicts require extreme measures, bad expectations not great when there is nothing to look forward to but death alluding to reckless reclusive behaviors acting in shadow behind the eyes…’ – out of Context




…we are running, inside the furnace of, Dreams…

‘…sensed on many levels by this meat we wear sometimes feeling of more value than the character traits buried inside barely able to get glimpses of the world, outside excerpts confusing that us into submission through eyes that see information gleaned from many sources askew though so calmly casual as to seem useless to anyone else in surveillance culture causing panic on regular basis it startles the imagination into possible exits ripping wounds in me that never heal from childhood to infirm deathbed soliloquy spent speculating what comes in moments after next consecutive sequence compared to how the rest of our lives that have been sometimes swallowing in too much misery sponging off the necessary welfare of others to readily display Here casting off and away disparate influences, fabricated by mutilating forces disguised…’ – out of Context




…the opsimathic, growing Quirks of art…

out of Context – ‘…in control of our businesses, meddling and peddling our wares housed and expressed serious whims that fancy wounds to dig into and exploit in order for there to be resolution of any sort available even if it causes lasting damage one cannot heal as the more rapacious qualities of humanity break loose and poison the well from which we stem and arise revived and surviving these tribal tribulations before expiring in hopes that spontaneous combustion strikes us all with our frozen ashes remaining just long enough the computer-verse can register this intense frailty that inhabits us as brief candle flicker our lives ever were Here, digging through the carcass of rust built upon kingdoms made out of faith alone sometimes lasting only single session yet assimilated into the greater whole of the next glorious society…’




…to what fLuxury is this…

‘…harnessed for energy covertly replacing the horsepower guided into place by pressure of your peers scat singing our way through liminal eschatology whose escalation as wielded into tools of ethnomethodology versus sociology, we are not worthy in our secreted excretions seized pleasingly sized to objectify as fetish holding certain mojo about it symbolic of particular peculiar sensitivities some would call mystical in this essence heaven’s lobotomy preaching at us how to live properly via interpretive temporal advocates playing devils wishing to be redeemed by whatever savior we have for the time being justifying our maleficent influences creating tensions between people as though social constructs to be toyed with in sights solipsistic amounting to who we decide to listen to with undivided attention accounting for little as pity party wallowing in psychic wounds…’ – out of Context




…Mogwai or the highway…

‘…though through distant fogs preventing us from being able to see more clearly as instances appear that any closeness to the name of death is difficult truth to confront especially when kicking and screaming for help and life revived somehow more genuine than our previous miscarriages of justice to others undeserving of abuse or punishment even as we occasionally coerce each other into doing stupid upset things whose snares serve the undeniably serious purpose of each instrumental lesson in gravity annihilating those unwary hopefully with painless celerity dissected, to which we cannot provide proof of assurance that we will survive this ride complete or in charge while having to submit to bringing ourselves for self-inspection through circumlocution to sell using that what seems authentic yet is mere gobbledygook taken shape and bought by bewildered masses…’ – out of Context