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Constipainted

the picture it seems is blank to allow new views into the snowy white vastness with the blinking cursor leading the block from this frame of mind as it dissipates into nothingness or transmits perhaps to the deeper outer spaces that where entities not unlike ourselves inhabit with strings attaching their consciousness to ours, floating out in the hazy wildernesses of the imagination and practical phases of work and play intermingled for the more frayed and the frightened among us to settle their nerves when the formulas won’t work starting a chain of events where we are thrown into constipated institutions which work even worse than the outside because of all the rules in reverse pressing against us and our resistance against that wrecked of an ideology, but still we move on and give of ourselves to the others that appear worthy the gifts of human interaction as we have come to know it in this distract rear view of the good old days when there was never any need to be this hostile or suspicious of fellow humans in motion doing whatever it is they choose to do in their own time which is none of our business personally… but somehow worms and maggots will edge their way in where they do not belong to try whittling information from the wilted choices of word that people in their weakness and vulnerable states falter attempting to say what should naturally pour from the heart painting a vision reinforcing the ideal belonging that we are all some small part of, though rules and wedges of other kinds are used against accurate communication between the emotional selves and their more mental counterparts whose analysis is just as invaluable as the body’s satisfactory execution of these needs making everything somehow balance of its own accord with the known universe whether we see the changes as they occur, or have chosen to stay ignorant to glimpsing the truth that can be revealed through us in strange ways synchronous with the grander puzzle work gathering momentum to differ as much as it might appear to stay the same to the naked eye through golden days when all this was a mystery though after walking away to experience newer facets of self previously never realized then coming back to where one started calls out to the innocence just as darkened as the revelations in transition from childhood to adulthood as sweeping linear continuum… as the gilded paths are constantly in bloom, the expectations for performance are high, but there is no need for confusion of skills or talents that one does not have…

Thanks, khet.