out of Context;
‘uncertain urges that are unforgiving, and Here we are a bit deeper in the nightmare than when we were previously being conceived as merely trivial bytes of dreams and flesh floating alive in the atmospheric womb stewing in septic fears and guilt trips gone awry until that most highly anticipated birth of the child whose worth fills out wholes left empty by those cowards and craven villains matched to meet the maker’s edging with the branding marks on the chest used to signify these commodities slow to lose value… the fulcrum of power a full turnaround devoured as the tale of the ouroboros in its traveling surge leaving crumbs of glory in the wake of this world ocean manipulated by waves of these peculiar individuals…’
out of Context;
‘we are prodded along to cross those thresholds as master bait preceding in the come to harm that only calms after the jagged heartbeat thumping down doors to open a passageway a short silence to that next gravid moment weighty with scars to be had once the experience has died in your hands down from the initial frenzy of heat broached by the opposing stances admitting the attacks contrasted by passionate bursts…’
out of Context;
‘we are nothing if not gifted with natural ways to adapt around these feats of leisure class learning limited by our psyche and the emotional body/ self that as passenger to these misadventures culminating into what we would call a ‘life’ takes on a whole new series of weird meanings when we pass on whether to those greater rewards promised for the services we have rendered or perhaps lost forever as a dickless piece of fuck…’
out of Context;
‘relating the outside world to my internal analog because of senses that i barely understand while presently Here within this richest abundance yet is always constrained by all of these conditioned obligations as the functions of slight corruptions are erupting into as vacuous an attention eluding the perception of truths as the shadows dancing around this light reflected back upon the person viewing images caught in sight of that window, that personal panorama of dreams torn asunder from the seams of sleep where it is we reside most comfortably awaiting a kinetic jostle from cold data around the way as gated threshold encoded to doors of perception unladen by swallows of dry wit too droll to affect the accents that perhaps make it a joke worthwhile…’
out of Context;
‘a spinning wheel of fortuitous losing as the supposed winners wincing have already gotten off this ride severely austere driving home the noose as clues to this cruelty and the fealty to the vicious nature of this kingdom working holistically toward conclusions of proof in truth mayhem supporting the righteous while putting a boot down stamping upon the rest of this human face viewing to crush hope and drown faith in its own juices squeezed so as to drip the dollars as abject waste fertilizing the fruits of labor’s love lost, but only as it was tossed in amongst the heap with the compact of trash thrashing around glories and gutter valor…’
out of Context;
‘if there are such things like monsters we have dismissed into the shadows and then regrettably forget about a condemned amalgam of nightmares refused substance by an overwhelming consensus between few actual hands as deep in the power struggle as it is played to be while trying to contain damages done, and manage to control the reaction to these movements as they occur then we are eventually coerced into becoming a part of the dreaming we left when we became living gods caught up in a fraud of sorts as the pieces we contribute flow back in to spread the myth further of who we were during in those days and nights sent scurrying and questioning…’
out of Context;
‘doctors and scientists alike continually process and reassess through reminders of what it was going to be along objective states of neutral circumstances with tribal trials and separations as one mind realizes inherent validity in another, and so it goes as the stutter of ignorance engrains and trains us to be domesticated citizens fully inundated with the mutually exclusive protocols of government and spirituality that guide us on in the directions that perhaps make no sense at first sight when feeling those winds of change blow apart of the situation into follies that evoke only serious perspectives experienced through the scripts of law writing trial and error to the current aeon in flux… crows pigeons and even the human creature stands at a cosmic threshold…’
out of Context;
‘the darkness inviting shadow to come dance within this dark mass, no boundaries but no love as there is only the homogenizing process that has need to occur if each one represents a single cell of a vast consciousness moving independently of as uniform an entity to monitor the status quo as much the actuality of the elves and aliens that require (rechoir) us to create receptive clouds through which imagination appears so these beings of darkness never become too grim or nefarious surging into a special timESPace where we are more than just any old crass brash crude brass machines gone extreme in a pursuit of toxic dreams that die short of the goal subsumed by a solution of illusions that resides Here with us…’
out of Context;
‘human fundamentals of courtesy and respect lost on deaf ears and eyes that hear what the heart is trying to convey as an observational organ in a sense very much like us that brain with nerves and strain stressing the system with a pain that will not relent peacefully as comfort is a dying art of fleeting ideals not represented the same ways as the traditions may have started as minds that were opened to novelizations of a permanent short story that every few centuries finds a permeation in order to repeat the process as its standard of contracted pathways whose currency and circuitry change as a malleable stream of consciousness informing the creatures we are Here, and always dealing with this as tainted service-to-disease that even the opportunistic act of our fascist vulture culture carrying on…’
out of Context;
‘the more surly and tweaky of these bikers of doom considered themselves worthwhile art critics, and were mocking instead of treating the art like true objets as had some of the more vocal critics having condemned the works back in the days before gangs were feared for losing their heads while torturing raping and killing victims…’