out of Context;
‘…the adult of the species grows weaker in their narrowed mind… there is no gap Here, in the psychosis of reality, but the grown-ups say it is so by way of concrete reason… scandalous, I describe the diatribe that we all scare ourselves with, the grown and less-than-grown… I fear that those I intend to read such piddle never will…’
out of Context;
‘the cycle is a viral wheel of junk culture aesthetic that abides by poor feeding poor feeding rich systems of oppression…’
those of us awake among the sleeping tiptoe so as not to forsake ourselves in the hells of social torment…
out of Context;
‘I may not be a great, but I respect the leap-takers more-so before the gyrating dollar-makers… Money is easy when you have no plans for a permanent future lodged in futility… As a human, I feel that the experience requires humility of me, and stubborn extremes if I am bold enough to stand up for them… There is no way to get beyond your own tormented plight if you do not want for more at first…’
Doctor Thompson – A person such as this genius will never die truly, and few conservative dicks will ever realize this ideal…Grow fat and die, consumer…
out of Context;
‘where the individuals clash in awkward constraints, each posed in thought over some conflicting issue, and there the silence begins. not the freakish stuttering of random effects, but the full-on intercourse of communication breakdown. I despise that place with a passion, where either has ideas unheard and unprocessed, and yet the words vastly ignore the point of speaking.’
tendrils of sonic facets sparkle slicing through the air towards me with octopus’s grace.
feeding the imagined soul, not the outer hollow realms, but the real ideas that manifest outside ourselves.
‘when you see those daylight vampires upon the streets, you tell them from me that the nine to five ain’t working out, and they need to raise the minimum wage Here…’
the marriage of the ridiculous to the erroneous was in stark contrast that day of days…the sacrificial scapegoat scraping by on loose amounts of change and reason…an altered ego applied against the fascist status quo with onward fears of where to go next…the ulterior motive sways precariously from limb to limb, and my senses reel from the chaos that ensues therein…the drive is a creative one, but manifests in bold swatches and swathes over time’s collapsing rays of hope…seeking release deserves its period in the son…wordplay not so much a game as a means to express and digress throughout all progress Here…discoveries of the other parts of me are taking hold, and my mind defiles the kindness that forces itself upon the others…authority counts the moments until my demise, and my eyes can’t see what the point ever truly …