out of Context;
‘the cryptic weave of my words act as a micro-fiber-absorber of your worst fears made manifest, and thus i am able to prevent that mental wetness from spilling over into finer decimated amounts through the barrier, this intangible tension that just is somehow aware that we are aware… through this veil, i believe, is where an afterlife might sit if for all intents and purposes my creative mind is not leading me astray Here… this living pulse itself could be where a human hive mind takes place, or perhaps better termed as a ‘miasma’, so as not to confuse it as an alternate dimension or something like that… on the mobius strip Here, we function rather differently than those many other incarnations we might see around us…’
out of Context;
‘the subconscious horizon line fades as the setting becomes grey with the chill night air, and the bright dreams explode and display such unbridled hate towards your loved ones, there is only regret at being the bastard… without all the expletives deleted are we left insane?…’
out of Context;
‘or does that just never matter in the grand scheme of cosmic madness prevailing?… the raw and unyielding words sting and scar as they fly out and away, trying to pressure cook the whole lot of us in an infernal stew, and making the melting pot boiling hot to scald the unfortunate ones…’
out of Context;
‘the attractive urge to spend the wishes i do have at my disposal, managing their moderation one has to step into the fear minus any guilt that might betray the real focus, and sometimes the goals may seem too far stretched by this suspension of disbelief….burning the bridge dogmatique…’
original songcraft by C.Michael Keaton
excerpt; ‘lavish the love for your own soul when you can
while you can hold it in your hands
before you betray the true function
rusting primordial source for reproduction…’
this is water many men fear to tread, late at night in their beds, drifting to sleep with the dead…
out of Context;
‘the morons and the assholes alike, their movements are measured sequences in annoyance, and the only expectations to meet are the wrong ones to know… the taboos drain us of life and liberty to think that what we are doing is right to some aspect greater than ourselves… do we even deserve the pain of this kind of abuse from fated interaction?…’
out of Context;
‘the urge to resist a system that already tries to bypass our functional approach to making the world unite, a way beneath the skin to condemn ourselves to the purity of conflict and detention, and we always come to do it to ourselves before others… only as a tease to what horrors that it could so easily be… this biological technology stinks of rot and ill-advised plans… unforgiving forces take our bones and bodies to declare what real is and has to be…’
‘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…’
my fate is locked in tightly with yours, but the avenues for release from the present state are terribly limited. the understanding defies the reason, and the reasons defy the proper logic out of the chaos. ordered thoughts might seem the perilous undertaking. ‘Nixon Void’ beckons from the dark dead subconscious of archetypes unborn. a string of letters and symbols that conceptualize into empty anti-growth. a nihilist is breathed into life, and yet, wants that breath taken back to wherever it came from. spite and despair bring this “thing” to us, and we all have to face our demons down the barrel of a gun, an image that denotes our futile narrowed vision. we are lead around by the bells, ringing to create unendurable confusion, and we meet the intense things that be. overtaken by the bullets of implied …
