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Broken English

this is the way we try to break things down as form of the digestion which occurs in both sides of reality as it manifests and warps what to say that hasn’t already been said before this, it teases the senses to think dispirited and depressed by the cage of reality as the powerful coercion that takes hold of matters to co-opt and release a compromise of effort that seems promising at first glance around, but then it strikes like a sudden impact of profundity and yet so cosmically epic as it drops onto small heads of those unaware how these things could ever occur only to re-assess the whole situation as time passes fast behind the veil… the elements of speculation force us to mock what systems and filters we have had in place since childhood by taking a more scrutinizing look at whatever it is that separates us from our species, we fear being the focus of this mocking behavior which gives us few articulate words to fall back upon when confronted with the animosity inherent in this substantial failure in/ for compassionate feeling, and we jest so randomly as it concerns us with awareness for our actions because of the parties we indulge with in good times and of some polite acceptance in the way things are even in volatile and decadent intrigues… the way is a blank trail that each individual takes for themselves to fill in with lush landscape as information and experience become knowledge intertwined and ambiguous as the cosmos folds in on itself, each single person becomes as manifestation of all subject forces requiring to effect the material of this universe by thought and will to produce as well as pursue the ideas which become reality’s marks via humanity, but this is not to say that every life makes an impact on the greater whole in this consensual paradigm that we struggle through trying to shine on as lamp lights in the darkness… Here the spirits are a way of removing distraction from one’s senses like an abrasive used to smooth down the jagged juxtaposition of particles sticking out and off-setting needs for better placement of parts, throwing all rules down the stares of a petty judgment and sudden thoughtless jerking emotions to tumble and break themselves as a glass all fragile and ready to be destroyed, and impudent minions trying to guard the appalling way that people treat each other like the unwanted shit clinging to the bottom of the shoe as their stinking opinion wafts over and through the nice neighborhoods to infect the children and kill the adults accepting of the tired adulation… we say the things that we really don’t mean for the sake of passing along those items we cannot find as ourselves able to deal with them so directly, allowing others to think for us when we cannot begin to figure out or understand what it is that people are saying to us as an entire frustration can force one to get underneath a person’s skin pushing on sensate nerves in a painful way that offends the ordered logic inside of us, and the mortal tensions as they ebb and flow in a collective embrace with our consciousness creates integrity for both within this carnal reality whether it baits and switches us onto other greener pastures or kills us swiftly… we barter in the bliss we think we can have to ourselves while enervating in the terms of debate and negotiation for these few pleasurable things we can permit ourselves to accept, but should we riot against the lack of tact that policing of the people forces them to resist the demon thirsty to take away our rights and their private laws while reinforcing the cattle call that summons the massive to slaughter themselves, loopholes in compassion that know only cold statistic means to build the end as bottleneck to push all the random good guys through in a state so utterly beatific and brutal to behold as the listless irritably rebel against whatever beauty betrays the intense vision… the suspense lurks behind every tree and bush as nature swirls and swoons to its own circadian rhythm as circle of life in the cycle of truths called ‘home’ by its native naive denizens who idly try adoration of such static shit, and as these signals enter the brains calcifying what little the pineal gland allows us to see beyond and into these three dimensions when other combative surges from those who try buying into controlling us like lab rats in the maze of amazingly spastic flirtations with disaster, save except for those that do run the experiments who might in a validly technical sense be entirely dead as living people even though their ideas expand up and far out beyond these lost fettered forms traveling as subtle tickling parasite upon a humanity lost in a losers’ king-dumb to be recapitulated time and again from this bubbling churning mortal stew as long as the bastards remain in charge… broken by the conquering urge to overtake the systems of others to be refashioned as something to make it appear more valuable than the reality whose parts are casually replaced for the cheaper version constantly in need of vital upgrades, the human circuit is hard and industrious as a solemn memento to the recent ages passed in literate historical collections collecting dust upon shelves as keenly kept by the aged and not the young, or is it a fear prevalent among the old that their familiar knowledge will be harnessed into new ways that make no sense to the personal structures that have been phantom-built inside our heads defying the models and modes we had previous enthusiasm for?… caging the mind under question of why and how…

Thanks, khet.