out of Context;
‘the journey of living makes some more weary than others swaying and bound to fall overboard into fathomless waters in this dream made up of seamen as the roles we are fit to tailored to serve as a crew as each member keeps the vessel moving along toward the horizon line beyond this life, and the body can have its’ own agenda and will not always care who thinks themselves at the helm or controls of this ship… you can either ship wreck or ship rock and enjoy the ride feeling the waves sway you side to side as you glide like the rest of us, some of the others cruise at speeds too volatile to handle as a general guiding rule for anyone else to apply, but constantly we miss the flowing of substantial progress…’
out of Context;
‘our dust spread over aeons to conjoin with consciousness to mutate and create new lifeforms to taste in this ever-evolving variation that does exist whether we wished for it or not… conceiving of all these devices to contain and distract the all-too menacing of qualities that reside bold within the human mind biding time until such a period where the leaking cannibal fluids will not be quelled by damn nor sudden bouts of being sorry, all these tricks are far too callous to finish off the damage done by creatures of distaste and incredulous wasted potential fisted as implement of souls’ destruction shifting the sallow and winsome weathered look blanked out after the generation becomes factual terrain to be styled, or at least thought so by the trendy wannabes who tread weakly in the shadows…’
out of Context;
‘life-changing pieces which will create the puzzling person we end up with as finalized version, but even posthumous memories and items cannot replace the face that came with the name or disdain that might have been common to one who has done so much to change the worlds swirling around them as visibly displaced remains the echoing sensations… like ghosts always in revolution…’
out of Context;
‘the house is empty of its contents, but ready to be filled with whatever the imagination can place there to be held until such a time as it is needed by the owner of the manse in question, a place hidden behind the inhabitant’s eyes inside the head as questionable visions sharpen the screaming nerve within each little thought to drive itself outside as though a demon-ridden assortment of clues used to gather evidence contrary to the idea that nothing had ever occurred… an ignorance taken too far to be of anything other than obnoxious detention of the truth tethered by the urgent hypocrisy that evades anything but some vague subjective definition on objectivity…’
out of Context;
‘the soul and its driving engine inside this machine trying to understand the degrading of the dream into this nonsense of reality as material destination Here amidst the flocking horde, a worshipful diatribe against we are found within like an egg to be hatched free to release the creature that later dies as random effect of time and space as detail to another puzzling picture put together wrong through the eyes of a preacher taking steps as the many others before him have to cater their interpretation of the biblical proportions to suit what their deluded ideas of a greater good is whether a heart is in the right place makes no difference…’
out of Context;
‘this response to the ‘love everybody’ cliche that has permeated the vague threshold of old humanity where everyone and their grandmother knows the various lessons as they have turned into rhyme beyond reason used as a turnaround on fair play for those that have any such ideals, my people are the ones who ‘hate everybody’ in a sense that opposes the overwhelmed by love excuse that makes threadbare the simple human urge for some meaningful attraction instead of rejection… changing by subverting my sense of humility just a little bit so as to appear misanthropic while not fully giving in…’
out of Context;
‘commonplace in the halls of a purposeful power like ours… the monsters try their hands at normal lives when the reality caves in on them that their ideal perfection is truly false in its description on the way toward manifestation by subversive action, those dark ones are not easily seen to be pointed at like the ghouls they really are in this rogue game of hide-and-seek made belief by the pretenders tainting the shallow pool with blood and semen and whatever other disgusting ingredients they can add to this stew, and the keen eyesight of this demonic tribe of opportunists is used to spot the flavors they crave to devour as powerful lobbyists and politicians alike vie for forcing their opinion upon the rest of the horde…’
out of Context;
‘the deranged sits cranked up with volumes of visions intent in their separate planned schisms manifesting division between all of the senses as they flux and flow with the tensions affixed naturally within people, the sole inhabitant of the head once death has pulled the spirit from this vessel now spent from the voyage from this previous life living casually as though nothing else were going on in the cosmos except for themselves, but not necessarily a world as inhabited by the curious opportunist even though there are many scrambling for survival in taking all the pieces of the pie-eyed dream for their individual hoards…’
out of Context;
‘change is coming hard and fast into the spaces that fill out the blank stare autonomy behind the eyes as the icy glaze traps us under ice-aged social waste collected in minds, economy of motion glacially slow and cumbersome as a graceless wreck atrociously begins to intrude upon the hearth and home of captive civilian audiences locked in their oh-so-not-so terrible television friction in which burns the mind’s eye scraping with a vacant electric flare like a robot zombie ready for the next orders to follow like law to the letter, but we are so much more than shuffling corpses waiting to die finally to get away from this ornate experiment in social extremes and power games utilized to covet the resources…’
out of Context;
‘through this emotional vessel as the night drags day out of its cold cocoon to reignite in the mourning ritual as the phoenix rising from the ashes whether bird of prey or sent flying as the withering egg finally leaves nothing but rich growth in the flaming wake, and society made of stone and steel remains as a skeletal wasteland to turn into tomb transformed into a womb for the rest of the world and its next denizens crawling inside the space betwixt as the swirling orbit comes to rest bounded at all ends by the gods’ suture which fails to mend…’