They are there right now. Everywhere in our midst, keeping a patient eye upon the suckling void active in humanity, and this fatal flaw will always reveal itself given time. To betray a withering self that cannot think beyond the material scope of the reality they seem to hold so dear. The possessions that can take a stranglehold upon their keeper. A misty recollection of what the past had been. Now, just subtle memories overlaid the entire scene the eyes can take in at once. Baffled by the ill-tempered, I stride motionless through the questionable realm of thought, and get to know the hollow chest which is my emotional center, my heart. The mind and body can stray away distracted, but the heart guides the soul to its fateful destination. Weeping in sorrow over the torturous existence that sometimes …
crispy from the fryer, eye have come to spread cheer and enlightened false riches. philosophy is emotional experience, and it moves like friction in the mechanical, it needs something there to lubricate its’ machinations. nihilism makes hippies breed faster, and communally, they resemble rabbits accustomed to rapid fornications. twisting their genitalia into some heated amalgam of fleshes that makes all the bodies move, writhing and thrusting, into bliss ever more temporary from the mouth gaping wide open to reveal the pain beyond the dark swelter. the ejaculates of the mind’s eye have become distorted folly. by all foolish standards, self-parody is the macabre avocation that propels the defiant urge forward in the ‘mic/mac’ cosmos. darkness needs to light that love brings to inflame the wounds from active witness to the pitfalls of reserved behaviors. the actions that inspire billions …
tHere are strangenesses about in this lair…small surprises along the way to greater things…no focus will well lead someone across the blades with a disappointed air…the scraps of personal power that we give to other beings is astonishing to say the least…what obnoxious freaks are we to think we are the masters here?…the surgeon will cut with a certain precision to the incision, they have all done this before somewhere…the world is not our whore to play with so easily…what benefits the estranged soul who darts in and out of the centuries looking for bliss, is it possible to understand wholly from within?…it feels like a real shambles, but will always change without reason to the hard second…turnabout is fair play, or so they say…eye don’t believe in a way out…it is all obnoxious puppetry in the extreme…we are …
the perception of…
Every…
Young…
Entity…
eye see, eye see…visions of the masses through their children’s eyes, and outside of the mind there are reconstituted effigies of persons who walk by, hardened by the growth of the creature on the surface…the eyes, however, say much more from the soul then many other physical points do, but that is not to say that there is no way people can flow with this energy from every pore…most do not even pursue such abilities…in youth, we have everything that cannot be condemned for the loving newness that makes every moment breathtaking, but as we grow older, it does become easier to use experience as a shell from this freshness…not an innocence, per say, but an undeniable potential for anything sensual or beyond the six senses…man is five senses, but that example is that devolved man that …
Burgess Meredith is the obsolete librarian…Orwell was to literature what Nostradamus was to divination…and then history made effigies of us all…
there are few things eye can think of that are compelling to me anymore…one of those things is thinking about thought, and how they channel the energies necessary to compel the world to move…not simple, small scale attempts at understanding, but grand and epic cosmic questions on the essence of growth…all link to each other in some way that lies unknown to most of us, concepts to foundation ideas to scaffolding to the structure itself, and yet we keep hitting the invisible wall that breaks the logical quest into mighty gaps in efficiency…emotional conflict, a self-possessed culture and society, and the butting of heads together is a constant volley of trauma…some few of us take it upon themselves to begin to solve these riddles, but too few of them really ever understand anything about any psyche other than their …
We are the legal tender of this cosmic experiment
…We are the doomed.
you don’t think you’re crazy, but how do you know?…unlike rigorous tests of physical endurance to test physical prowess, there are no real tests for sanity’s sake, and chances are that those tests can be misleading…eye don’t fret over the wilds of science nor the fingers of chaos because both are beyond their mere restrictive behaviors, and all of it flows into me, whether it affects me or not…time has distinctive affectations that allow trauma to fester or heal, but no matter what, the mind is always affected…the organs which make up the mind are putty in the early stages of life, and it is a fragment of my soul that shines through that portal to your world, the world you stand within…your arms are useless against me, for my eyes see everything beyond the blind biases of other …
you hate me…thriving off of the rocky soil upon which you toss your seed, eye am eternally grateful to you, and you are an animal who lives off of the filth that expels from my bowels…the wasted lives taken for granted are yours to do with what you wish, but eye am here to make sure you realize what pain you inflict upon the world around you…taking your crude religio-scientific superstitions for granted, you stride into all situations certain that you, and only you, know the answers…your fear betrays your mind, and all of your true thoughts are laid bare before me…you kill without regard to the planet you seek to defecate within, eating the guts and the shreds of instinct that are placed on your plates, and you feast beyond the weary messages of poor health as it …
bleeding is in…when last we left our heroes, they were troubleshooting world disasters for fun and profit, but now they feel the pain…munching upon pasty feelings of regret and guilt, we wait for our turns respectively upon the rollercoaster of the living thrills, and some of us idle at the static speed of dirt…for millions of tiny years…is there ever a time when we all can just be utterly honest in the brutal reality we create?…tormenting others minds and souls like it were a game of hide-and-seek…the freakshow bothers me, but not because of the geeks who bite the heads off chickens, it is because of the irredeemable passers-by who deserve nothing more subtle than a gun barrel between the jaws…a bullet passing through the freakish display of brain matter…eye do not speak without compassion, though, merely hatred for …