out of Context;
‘where the rest have become friends, we have become enemies, but only in haste do we strike that turning page that neither of us tends to be on together… the stormy weather hits the boards with pleasure stinging as the anger and insults stack higher and higher…’
out of Context;
‘decisive devices carry out the lords of destruction, I find myself cringing with my fists out in front, and the sudden impulse to strike out… lashing only against the sides of hell, the silence felt so deeply when all else might be alright in some way, but cannot be…’
out of Context;
‘plodding with what condemned fortitude that only a hell-fire furnace can create… we summon the demons that taint our dark sideways glances, lacking any real forethought to the unmentionables, and dirtying those unclean and defective wholes…’
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…’
original lyrics by Aaron Hensley
excerpt; “‘Cause there’s a battle outside
and there’s no place to hide
no escape from the violence malevolent…”
so Here we are yet again, my tramps and dears alike, the day of days. friday the 13th and no Voorhees in sight. taking my place in the human race without being shy about it, and without the definite affinity with melting objects. the brain drains the pan dry, stepping out into the light, and the flickering display that consciousness has made me imperatively aware of first hand. what is luck, eh?… unlucky in life, unlucky in nearly every other aspect of living, but why the urge to move anyway? sometimes the motion kills remains of aches and seething hatreds that bury themselves under the skin, to stay active makes the blood flow into those warm places. a crutch for the unwary perhaps, but always with the sophisticated tone in ambivalence for reality working towards a progressive end, consistent …
but it is my highway the highway men the highway brood the highway stream the highway hypnotism mocking adjustments to mirrors and seats. of course you’ll be uncomfortable. it’s summer time on the coast and your AC sucks the gas out. alternate. take in the view. show the road you knew what you knew.
…and business is rather mediocre at the moment.
that doesn’t stop me from purging my brain hemorrhages all over this blank space. sometimes it takes awhile to come up with more material, but don’t let that perturb you, if you like a certain tale watch it because I always go back and revise the tissue that makes up the story. visions always seem to be changing on me, and new ideas show up on my doorstep without warning. patience is always rewarded, though, and my stories will be no exception. that is why they fit into the on-going sub-category Here. for now, there is going to be time enough to work on everything you see Here, my friends. whether you love it or hate it, there is no reason to just give up on it, but that is always going …
fate but no fate in a time with no time… as we are all together once and for all… the divine will to be resides within each of us, and the potency of honest unity altogether can be what scares us into clutching ourselves above all else…
out of Context;
‘there are too many days in lonely contemplation, and eternity becomes the twisted prism, reflecting the divine light into deformed Technicolor… the remote control over selfless puppetry trying to live a life born from dreams as we commit to the reality… that graphic hole from which escapes no light…’