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the end of the rote, and start of something Unheard of before…

Renaissistance, confoundry of elemental phonemes, the mind is a miracle thing to displace… heavily of sedate attitude with society’s confounded social reverse psychological killing game gone erratic like a metesticle as it burns the scrotum off the beast of biomechanics quanta terrorized by human plague waves in cosmic volume to fill the sonic terrain of the soul as much a clarity of strife set forth by the unthinking masses of tragic to enslaved wage propulsion system wired the wrong way out and around about this human drama, in a combination of space feces and stardust creating mutant variables trivial and diminutive in this creeper range of fools and a material form proliferated through all wings and wedges of a constant expanding restlessness that succumbs to nonsense as much a “common sense” of how correct things should work ideally almost mechanistically but falsely as we realize the steps that take us to the sun, but too close and our wings melt and burn off our backs from this collective stain we’ve left as trail and tribulation all at once removed and still present in the nexus a furnace and forging device all one and the same… we are the nuclear oblast, cold yet so frightfully hot with unknown components capable of birthing gods into our material excesspool, and becomes artifactual keystone set within a complacent clockwork conundrum fierceness that will not and cannot deny itself or those often curious verses surrounding it allowing the ability to spell though not an inherent responsibility to manage the gifts of the offal dead before us as cumulative effect as affects the rippling cascade of donated time and space in it’s vexing race to finish something of truth value though not necessarily true as a thing all its own thought to be controlled by the construct of humanity as caretakers Here… the character of human drama implemented a demented parasite to strain the lessons through the surface mainstream of mirror image trickery vibrating upon a relative levels with this externalized compulsion of propulsion attracted to the repulsion we feel at being constantly in transit Here, the question marked as the interrobang by crossed powers of exclamation sometimes claiming nothing but a wish for respect and fun to be had, and triggered by a new year of possibility that we may not see take fruition so easily even as the odds seem stacked up and on the verge of toppling over like an advantage avalanche that doesn’t kill but allows us to regret our actions with a similar ease of discord along with calculated risk and reminder of rancid flavors trying to become septic in our serious works when it tries to reproduce itself through alternate means to an ending as the plot lines fizzle and pop and snap at the news patterns dissolved through the closed captions as well as the circuitry that televised trench warfare has been indeed created Here like a struck match sparking to life only to be snuffed out once the poison is consciously consumed as a treat or meal might be looked forward to after a period of deprivation aggravating the lens of emotional compulsion driving us ahead into madness with or without obvious markers along the way whether it be an actual path or an idealized aversion to probability considered viral now as virtuous trend not oblivion can waste all the best efforts of men and their counterparts in the continuum of cycles metaphorical and material as this universe embraces all movements as long as there is still motion revealed… we can only contain so much until our heads explode into their constituent atomic strands and strings of theory passing presupposed wavelengths and bandwidths on the assertion that this is THE right way to never stand corrected again, as the meat and the tissue are merely coverings temporarily competent as the dreams fulfill their own destiny of this density on this heathen earth where things come to be born and die as living artifacts lined up like dominoes for the most brilliant results ever witnessed…

Thanks, khet.