out of Context;
‘the insulting linger as the words muster the effort that lacks a meaning, the nonsense becomes indecipherable as the emotions stream into the skull with a momentum all their own, and the villain either becomes vanquished or has more power for that day…’
out of Context;
‘as humans, we might have to fight to understand anything that isn’t handed to us first, and then fight with ourselves to manage the information well later… multitasking this is no easy feat…’
out of Context;
‘colors and symbols and sounds, all of these things blend together in my soul, and resonate deeply with my true self as through all my potential selves… holographically to some degree… a projected copy that “lives” as solid material in a space/ time continuum…’
out of Context;
‘My hard-won love is really a very depressing cycle of manipulation that we have built into our culture, the speed with which we crash and spin to the floor when there is damage, and how survival succumbs to this game of psychological warfare when what we actually need is the collective welfare… Where does this insulting drive stem from, I wonder, because the more I resist the greater the pressure seems to grow… Bursting like condensation from the storm cloud, the hate from within pushes others away, radiating like a void suckling nihilistically at the life energy of everything…’ – from the 777 words
out of Context;
‘where are words when we leave nothing to be said later on?… the drifting whispers of ghosts as they travel through the murky tainted guts of a systemic infection pushing past boundaries empty of the right sense of certainty… the cataclysmic vibe that shoots from loads of minds, as the negative thrust revives its diatribe, wealth for the poorest vital kind of diseased humanity…’
out of Context;
‘martyrs-in-waiting, their blank canvas faces awash in the oil thick dripping from the nose, as crucifixion blues affix their pose in such a way… as to fit the appeal of massive quadrants of people, the numbers lifting high slightly bent to catch the light of day, and the choice is always yours to whom will lead you away…’
out of Context;
‘obliteration would save us from our lost gyrations messing over the mediocre lines of disbelief, pulling the puppet strings to make those lines blur, and somewhere we separate from ourselves… that being said, the finished story has opened my mind palate, and it still wants a taste of the everything that a warped imagination can provide…’
out of Context;
‘the tragedy is that we still resist, and give-up in a balancing act that will deprive as much as deprave all the rest of us, making tests of us to find out who is the best of us…’
Conventionality is born of stagnation and a reluctance to relinquish our grip on antiquated social observances. While it’s understandable that people want to revel in the bastion of the familiar and shun all things foreign, it should be etched into our very soul how important it is to learn and evolve beyond the mundane, for to grow stagnant is to stop moving forward, to allow convention the right of way is to disavow our own humanity and free will, and squelch the fire of imagination, and crush all possibility of really feeling as though we’re alive.
dissuaded and dissatisfied with the corrupt aide of the ego in my culpable hands, attempting to harness my peculiar reasoning for a lifestyle set in contradiction, and take on the ownership of self through the lens of rational dichotomy in autonomy… crafting a question somewhere centered inside all real personal belief to be asking while staying true to the absolute identity…
