waxing bummer.
out of Context;
‘the massive bulk of human meat spends long hours staring into blank space on purpose. but is there anything to be seen there in that hapless void?’
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where the heart sits calmly.
amid the hectic pace presented by the wankers, buggers and besotted idiots out there, the truth still lies there borne of grief and shame, and few are impressed enough to pick it up again. these angles of attack and gain are wrong enough to be considered avant-garde, but weak enough to not be considered at all by most people.
where is the authority?
out of Context;
‘the whirling void accepts us like cheap used goods, all at once or one at a time, we are made to feel as though there are no options left until we are far past the door of opportunity. where can we find ourselves once we get to that stopping point? is there a point there?’
words of “was-dumb”.
WARNING; the content in this post evokes imagery of a questionable and disgusting nature. Mature audiences please be advised.
writer’s block
The fissures from the social pressure becomes a force to be reckoned with as I scale the mounts to take on epic conditions above me. My mind feels as yet still too young to pronounce pro-actively. I wonder what dysfunction puzzles my systems, and what the consequence will bring about to face me from the depths.
Wandering starved, wandering scar.
out of Context;
‘The sound, I always go back to the sound, but it is difficult to describe if you cannot hear…’
Words and more words…
out of Context;
‘Following a method of interpreting others moods and actions as we try to accurately interpret our own moods through actions, and those few thoughts that pertain to getting a point across.’
What the devil sees, the devil wants.
the beast is myriad forms taken shape…the mind that guides these words is feral…the primitive harshness of a concrete reality, but what is real?…god is everything, a sense of one with everything, and some would say a certain selflessness…selfish beasts that we live inside…what meanings are offered to appease the ever-questioning mass of cells?…why does rot taste like the sea?…are we all parts of an ever-rotting godform?…the flesh would suggest that in some sense…why does the beast rot away?…godness defers some sense of eternity, or is that the dichotomy that the spiritual prevokes?…
What the fuck have I got to say?!…
out of Context;
‘Did it all just decide to up and run away from the raging tempest inside my brain?…With its flotsam and jetsam fully intact for the next go around in this lively thrill ride…You may wish to laugh at my words, but I know your secret envy, for which you must follow the footsteps into the fires…’
