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Asbestos You Can

the earth is a poisonous garden with layers too impossible to breach without sacrificial collateral for the cosmos to imbibe taking turns out of jive to be alive with access to all this data malleable by the right hands to shape it out of context with all the other clues to the mystery embedded into miserable moods mistaken as matters of fact, or worse contained within our heads as listless remains of that enlightened streaming into those incompatible meanings without reference and doubtless with awful menace taking over by turns as the worst in this recorded history as shall yield other human traces unto the dirt, the gravest of most serious matters dealt as death blow to these reserved and ignorant chapels built from the stoned and devalued inert pieces of a dreaming rarity devoid as this reality recycling the clinging bits of restless data from some gripe site retreat into the digital ablyssal bathysphere of space and time left loose to jerk a reaction out of the reeling memories of noumanity’s romantic attachment to resistance… vile trohl for all seasons whose very presence is an inflamed nerve twitching out of time to the rest of this clockwork sequence shaped and solidified in out of this world’s marrow brought to bear against the most sensate of the people before developing further than in this cesspool stirring and shunning fools’ juvenile abuse of rules and a rulership, in use of the living vessel to drudge filth and sling mud from the depths as quality of those shit-flinging monkeys locked up in the zoo anger building a knot of venom in the veins as rage keeps the tension moving hardly forward beyond the wall of sleep slipping a numb pulse of all pins and needles down the length of flesh wet with a bleeding heart pledging love, but whose masses could disarm the fat fascist tumors as though not one’s own would be able to retain and retrain the personal progress measured kicking back against the pricks who would choose nothing more from this existence than to have wealth and master control of the world soul… we are a sour tribe that has the ability to decide to be more than this as born-again sin of retaliation in repetition to proliferate insane ignorance amongst the masses, managing to make decisions for everybody who will ever live Here as respectable citizen or disparaging hoodlum cursed to convince only the handful that they are worthy of love and compassion, but everyone is worthy of something treatment more bordering on compassion of others…

Thanks, khet.