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the debt of Safety coils at our feet…

the dirt dug us deeply six feet from the last bodies that dropped there having made the mistake of dying so slowly that the world change around us to be tempted by watershed marks on the pavement left after the seas of our past in a strange repetition of the past sagas swept over the ruling parties standing tall and upright to mimic and strive boldly into those false fates first in rejection of a solid and stable foundation to begin the quest out there and thus finally finish the question over doubt and skeptical sermons about the powers-that-be being present though not altogether aware of the future that would rise pushing promotions of civilized solicitation and lobbied an insanity into existence out of nightmares barely credible outside of the human mind seen as alien more than simply other ego making one’s own trail through the cumulative shreds stringing along alternate and violent histories passing softly from dusk to dawn as we reject tradition religion and even wisdom at times when the opposite appears that necessary stake to claim fault at one’s own potential destiny self-centered, it is difficult to break away from those anchors that so ironically pull our writhing screaming carcasses into the depths of our own madness by surprise as a fright to send us sailing over the threshold that engages us through tossing us to the wolves in a state of frenzy and the ultimate freak out vomited from our delicate imaginations brought to confront and confound the laws of a consensual reality where humans have a controversial less-than-average face underneath the social masks as we traded back and forth when the situation alternates from banal savagery of domesticating experience flattening with a purpose heart of a wandering minister or preacher to revive the holy ghost through god’s voice produced from us within educations broken standards, and the only hint i can try divulging to anyone on this heathen earth is this one small tidbit of layered consequence compared to the psychopomp and circumstance as a devil’s gauntlet graduation of sorts respected by all shaman and witch doctors when any and all disorders are considered medical craze to be cornered and cured by the critical though not always compassionate effects of neuro-analysis believed with blind faith in the “objective” empirical model from which most kinds of practical physics gets its manifested assurance though my lesson would the ‘stay wrinkly’ as often as possible this almost always depends upon the specific you and those known tolerances or resistance to the ironic magnet throwing waves one step beyond the sea even though some can get a hang of drowning ruthlessly when the unknown wants us to choose the way back to it for a final round of fearsome confrontation then meeting the courage we once wished we had before facing down the vicious struggle to only die as the soiled memory of ghost lost in the streets surrounded by the same scary warp and weft that any other grandiose tapestry of there being imprinted on an etheric record the song that hums deeper than which can be considered the establishment life antagonistic to the sudden attack of what it means to be “normal”… the crass yet classy “ivory towers” that have considered themselves the caretakers of this world have gotten steadily worse even as technology gets more natural as we create access to the worlds within worlds when spirits can attack through a twisted means of chaos disrupting not in an external order that impresses itself upon a universe like ours, but what i feel occurs is that during the moments of ‘deja vu’, is not that something is necessarily an obviously wrong and thus turns into a repeating trick to try any attempt to keep the party going while disposing of the others in a timely fashion in which we end to be so late by the standard stained on clocks everywhere that technically we may just literally be deceased like a dead man walking living just for the chance at another day every day still bared and born in a scene of changing lies…

Thanks, khet.