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deja View

what is this present that exists as a puzzle box slowly unfolding in sequences of this humanity recycling through into those archetypes and industrious spirits that filter the light as enlightenment to the people whom participate in games and frequencies that fall far outside of their boundaries being risk-taking anomies anomalously moving the sometimes on paths of a piece least resistance filling out the space with more bodies and eyes than ever before as when witnesses are necessary as more than merely bricks fashioning the edges of an impossible wall that has been conceived of as the source in this sour separation between all factions more so inexact than the various orders of religious tendencies killing off those willing to die, or a fact of that uncertain future is the profound exception that it would indeed most surely collapse in upon itself with little to no warning as it fluxes us up too far beyond recognition of an identity part of the code work Here a remission as we are cancerous growth on the dark side born into the bright colors of that swirling sun and this galaxy the home to so many things that range the mystic scope of reality on into the extinctual or legendary status to be remade into yet another fetus with a chance at thrusting out externally, thus forcing selected orders out of the way as slates need to be blanked before the reset or reboot can begin to impel an event horizon to dawn anew instead of this glacial pace that seems to wither patience away to anger and frustration as painful moves are made and choices are betrayed for that unhealthy practice of hoarding whatever an individual besides yourself might need or want to keep to secure one’s own contented viewpoint oblivious to a large amount of the fascism that goes on expressed daily… in the rituals we have programmed the body to play out as to align with our ideals of moral and ethical workings engrained as we grew in an empty view of the world as truth all throughout school and on into the work force as we are screwed into place and get the plug end of our souls too confused with the system twisted into stasis some where we ought not to be as hours turn into days and weeks to years, more than merely cogs ticking along on a causeway looking for a saturated cause to sway you or i out of the blues created by those residential dues as residues as we all have had to pay though some of us refuse the trash and garbage that they try to say to us as though we are to be kept out of harm’s way as like pets or children by those third parties with zipped lips playing a long game from a distance in order not to reveal these hidden hands dealt from that first turn onward, and as the universal version of the story that gets retold is that fundamental trigger mechanism foreign trying to understand this minute flow of thought as crude oily salespeople from hell will aim to target victims that seem to have no close connections relative to others as surly merry-go-round that centripetal force perpetually spins blooming in a flower growing out of Here…

Thanks, khet.