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End of the Rogue

we taint ourselves in all the various means and ways that provoke the other into somehow remaking the self that appeals to the parts gathered together as a whole, we glimpse the strained strange relations that only intimacy involves or revolves itself around, and the cluttered things stack and obey only a sense that there declares a stability… a requirement for solidity to achieve the ends that it desires Here in the never ending of trials and tributaries leading to a plain spoken urge centered ominously in the whirling loco motive of the psychotic sociopathic err to conclusion, lost among the poisoned bulk of humanity trying to seek out a reason or an immunity to the caustic toxic fear embedded in the human psyche, and yet few of us have learned to swim in these troubled waters of the world pool with each of us tallying the notches scarred in our bodies as painful lesions locked in the memory of what we try to achieve as robust fact beyond mere fiction as delivered by the heat and sensitivity to friction both mental and physical… we quake in our skins for relief of some dagger thrust deep in the conscious mind pulled from the stoned flesh that a holographic firm fixation on form projects among these structures of concrete and glass that have forsaken us as but temporarily tolerated beasts in the whole of heartless refresh, even through the damage done to each other as we repress the scream for peace and sanctity of Self as beleaguered by the urge to live as though it were always our last breaths to envision in this cold social tension that firmaments the walls between us, but we go on with wishes and desires transitioning past these forgetful occasions marked as memory and cherished nostalgia constricting the travel that only comes naturally with the passing of time and space to chase our tales through the next hoop as we leap… forgiving our selves this sleep wandering in nightmares of weeping angels and buried secrets kept in ages we can only dream of now that we are past some of the worst of it, but to what degree are we going to keep seeing these things as real when we have so long to stay where we are stationed as though the next train of thought will arrive colliding with the ephemeral gesture of quiet while the conundrum abides, we are hurtful to those that seek our guidance because they always know just as much as we do underneath the eyes that see the way through once the understanding has reached a peak of curious ardor in the blissful tortures we have pitched our true senses into finding the path of the individual… whether perplexed by the scenes before us or coming to conclusions that seem fortuitous in the future, we set our collective sights upon a conquest betraying the abysmal with humor as this is who we truly are once the skin has been cast aside to allow new growth as we stood statuesque against the pressures that mold us into place, and yet we constantly resist the ventured gain when the instruments abused become broken by the weight and the measure of strength we have grown used to in our leisure only real respect deserves among all these fascist stick figures made aware of a unique existence… we find we give in to the pleasure and repent the bad decisions as though it can only be the good that we achieve by any standard left in the wake of despoil and conquer as horsemen on the ride into a horizon marred by destruction, repeating all that was forgotten in the lives long after lingering discretion excreted into the solid dark matter which condemns us to sadness or laughter as dusk turns into dawn yet again and again, but what do we learn from these ideas of the hereafter when every lie comes to fruition in the crossed hairs of free will and destiny playing in our heads like some ancient mariner’s rime on the dark sea of lost innocence… we seek a devil to role out our villain and a god or gods to make right what was wrong like the time before this to lead us to an idea of heaven that suits us to fit and properly fix the hindsight of artistic wisdom, we are a constantly mutating hybrid of the system as incubator and guardian generally lawful down to the detail of incision to cut away the devalued symptoms of corrosion as splendid victim, but we will never stay down as the rest of the dead leaves and righteous triggers made vicious and rabid…

Thanks, khet.