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xerogasm

dust in the wind, a singer once sung, all we are is just dust in the wind… what could have been of the protorgasmic beings Here had there been no changes in physiology toward sexuality and the behaviors of a species to procreate on such massive levels possibly as a way to ever achieve some affirmed personal enlightenment once the certifications and prerequisites are met in this current culture of the future as it produces more generations than it requires to succeed, though this is not totally the fault of so many humans having bred and cherished these ways as substantial foundations used for engineering of religions in the same ways that literature elevates a civilization beyond animal circuits that merely tease the mind barely aware of itself as the pattern of life repeats and fades into this tapestry of anonymity that can provide us the background elements for what we become as individuals, but could we even be as sensitive to a truth like this if it weren’t for the blowback of overstimulating progress that boldly taints our visions to stare into the sun without shade curious of the effect it will have upon the personal reality we inhabit as yet another piece in the overall picture given to meaning as interpretation of the emotional eye to see by feeling out the others… the case of humanity is curious in its extremity instead of being of an order toward monotremity which would have meant that the human form would have reduced the use of all these organs through one hole much like the oddity of a natural diversity found among all species creating source material as a whole from which the multitude stems further as the life cycles shift and splash along a genetic equilibrium from this as balanced osmotic code ever evolving always within us as much without, through these membranes from which we filter as the creatures with a purpose posed to win or lose whatever the game that seems to be never ending as though any complex rules used to stay fixed taking the oomph out of the step of anyone wishing to die boldly in an attempt to overhaul this desert of the real stiff and inflexible to a warm touch learning how we all choose to die for these vague rewards when it comes to wars and the stubborn desires that now fill our attention until the periphery gets blotted out at the edges, and perhaps this is where we only care about being lonely or when the integrity of compassion finally strikes out felt opposed by the enveloping decisions to act the prick pushing a vague sense of needing to complete moves tainted by a wanton approval from those darker forces of meaning weighing precariously upon either end of any nonsense seesaw motion trying to overlap these realities we try to perceive as a reality even as we try to badly re-assert those times when stability does matter to us and the individuals that make our lives worth living… only then do we want to not be this mechanism for all the wrong empty cold reasons we think are vital in shaping our lives, but mean ends restricting what value means for a progress…

Thanks, khet.