All The Wrong Topics dot com

…maniCurate…

…hands autonomous anonymous things we are more than merely hands raised or positioned in a kind of salute to greet starting the meeting on formal first impressions everyone countering each other’s appeasement signals Here as proper signs of surrender or at least suspension of hostilities through lowering of weapons at the ready shaking compromise out of the fearful assumption that everyone is an enemy which is not always untrue in many ways scared of betrayal from an unknown angle just out of range of sight blindsided when everything was thought copacetic though this false impression is made by an artist, flailing hands and flaying flesh torturous treatments screaming raw pain from the depths the uncomfortable and unpleasant truths that squeeze and ooze from our pores poor you set in your ways leading to fatigue and horrible hygiene one step closer beyond to something other than this accepted exception to the rules only where applies best with salve or cream overnight a sleeping remedy because awake life is too much to handle simply or easily thanks to the complicated stakes omnipresent in suspension of disbelief to search out adventure as the next martyrs to be assaulted by a cruel real world, where the smallest parts one does participate within creates ripples dependent upon spreading ideas within context easy to understand being too shrewd through vague communication getting others freely telling their viewpoint to one within patience and silent contemplation feeling sorry for your story line in this brief chapter of life living itself out whether we like that or not matters not to the larger overall system that functions just as well with as without us Here withstanding tests of time to wither and dying as day shortens to the last as expiration date to be mentioned in eulogy by some… or some ghosts whispered about fearfully as urban legend and myth one looks over the shoulder to reassure there is no one there lingering just behind whilst in the nihilist lurking for a reason to seize upon doing gods work at godspeed in gods country acting like a cunt to wipe that fastidious resting ignorant face on humanity staring you down from afar with door ajar and slacked jaw because they cannot believe what they see or why they are seeing it yet focusing their awful minds on various details able which barely to glimpse and drawing their own conclusions, thinking themselves blessed witness to judge reflexively critically-interpreting any and every situation without truly thinking as a mind allows them to instead applying superficial opinions in place of critical thinking which are unable to function to condense in reality regretting these particular pieces puzzling to put together in sensible manners regarding matters of importance where one does not require hostile self-defenses ruining chances at better things in life trailing along behind you though coattails shallow graven shadows as suckling attachments in the form of an entourage riding you more possessed by whatever glamor you emit they seek resonates inside, tearing holes open as portals or windows to the soul through which entities search and destroy for stories that don’t matter any more dismissing devouring and digesting whatever remains useful to them even though utility tool instilling these words with energy even if it appears random at first in short bursts that decides to cannibalize these thoughts for their own gains eroding preconceived notions on impact with those psychically-delectable morsels walking alone skulking through brain pan alley selecting which parts require harvesting to keep all these hosts alive while dining upon their insides hidden parasites paralyzing and siphoning energy from victims…

thanks, khet_:/