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Excretion con-form-u-la.

the damned and delightful, doomed in spite of all calamity, Jane… what does it take these days to make a way that doesn’t have some perpetual fail safe to keep “bad” things from happening?… the gross concoction of today is rampant with words that people never mean to say, but eventually do anyway, those instinctual and irrelevant things… joining the line-up because the voices are telling us the one tale while the truth lies on the opposite side to those betrayed misgivings represent themselves like the real article, but the are flaws Here that we do not seem capable of picking up, clues to how these damned machines work in all their splendor and glory… however, there are no instruction manuals as we are all gathered about in this sandbox filled with filth and all those other materialist toys to use with a tyrannical touch, and we are forced to understand their technology in order to survive their games that they play both in our minds and with our bodies… we force ourselves to understand what we only know fragments of as we dream, all the various life times melding together in this aspect of the unreal made flesh-bound matter beast, and Here we are at the cross-hatching of line where laws and rules are only used to sway the tight vote in one direction of certainty over another… the man-made treatments that have left psychic echoes resonating for all to pick up on, whether disastrous things still left unmentioned or the ways in which this society will collapse like an ill-managed wall crumbling in some shire in England somewhere, and we are the only ones who can do anything about the present state of conformed paranoia and fear indoctrination our people are been pushed to commit themselves to as the rapers and the raped breed further and further into the wreck of humanity their own seed fascination to see what happens when the pedigrees reign over the mutts and the mongrels… consider this the warning, that my ranting affairs are purely dreams spun loose to your eyes and ears perhaps, but the state of my sanity is not in the mix… no, i only recount what vapid material sorts through my head at any one sitting, and these are teasing qualities that render me ineffectual to myself even as i fully view my opposite with clarity… the strong masculine one who knows more than stoic silence… the concrete is built over time by the likes of both devious and divine plotting utilizing forms of patterns we have yet to get, to attain the layers enveloping this aching body of lies as truths die with their distance making the options less valid from this far away as the gravity pulling us along throws unimportant detail to the side, but very rarely does the actual prince land in the street onto dirty knees as the bustle and hustle moves quickly out of the way to make room for everything else to come afterward… the entity becomes floored in the muck and grunge of the dire consequence, the human being makes words to be heard by none like the falling tree in a forest with no ears to hear it disappear into the abject obscurity as the silence engulfs this now unreal object, and when nothing is left to be said is when it truly fades from this realm of the existent… Here we sit at a nexus, one that has been revealed many times in the past with a less accurate moniker as the social network began proliferating in the digital empty now, and thus gives us better quantification and labels that subdue but enliven this imaginary quality that comes with the territory… the internet space, a glaring light real estate…

Thanks, khet.