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my diseased Fantasies.

they take away the pain that conscious weight makes unbearable, the helpless hopeless lone marker in the middle of this cesspool as the negative barometer because i will not shy away from the madness in my head, but there are ways around being a complete asshole while retaining the lust for life even though it can be a struggle throughout any person’s life… mocking the conventional ploys that define a being as one thing over another allows for a mind to ask questions from that cosmic fate, that lurks blindly everywhere that consciousness resides and not solely as intelligence, but as a warrior upon perhaps a purest path to take past all perverted grace of leprous debt insane resuscitated joining hands to force the energy forth like hardcore flaneurs roaming the streets with no hope for a future setting of day and night in cycles of systematic repetition… not nihilists but hopeless idlers wandering aimlessly through dark stone columns of souls variously lit at spots like some vibrant everlasting torch or candle expelling darkness in a short halo around its view of the city, the pants are worn at the knees and see-through to some degree while these stains from the blood will not go away, and the washing machines walk among the mad unyielding fiends you get used to seeing everyday in this passionate display of ignorance… the death of the lust driven through insecure fears and worries of tempting fates in artful disgrace… we are all these viral things we cannot explain away so easily in our day and age. cinema as god-form… de-manufactured humane tissues. “white” people the product of frustration, the gamut running like a tracked display of diversity, and “black” people are born of the earth. exploration of the ‘word’ magic, is the conscious mind really awake or dreaming?… a mixture into the gray area. the angles of the aether as it passes through us somewhere from a sphere of influence just outside of reach in an intangible reality as the creatures from below are the same except more solidly built holograms… coalescing into the human form at the apex of matter conjoined with mind. we fractured the pantheon of trivial facets from our fascinated anthropomorphism through to the existential crisis as living gods… becoming more like our creations as time goes on, the realization of this ignominious power wielded so abruptly and wrongfully, and expands far beyond our own time lines. this lack of interest in the less-than-aesthetic things makes us inwardly less involved, but the ripples only stay ripples for the short term… quickly, the thoughts can expand too far away to be real any more, and there is no understanding left in its place to reinforce the changes learned once and for all, this mercurial attitude that sends some of the best of us over the edge. where we inhabit a small pocket in the middle of this raw material, where various patterns of a spectrum take on the myriad names, and few beings truly “live” outside that sphere of influence… the gamuts have themselves divided and diversified into colors and sounds, and has become a confusing mess of living ideas housed in the world of material things, we have pierced the veil somehow giving ourselves a glimpse of the alternate realities there. tearing holes through known boundaries as these desiring machines take over with their consuming mechanical focus… no mental strength left to the misled as they begin weeping over the loss of their certainty, a loss of the appetite to live right all conjoined together with heavy cord tied into a noose, and let loose upon the public realm with not a glance backwards as the stupid begin to hang themselves… to quote a worse band of musicians i haven’t heard since, ‘what’s this life for?’…

Thanks, khet.