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Frack the system.

trying to wrap our mandibles around the syllables needed to combat the human query, with a deity quotient life looks really easy when taken from the morgue, and no need to think about the clean-up afterward even if it gets a little messy because this disposal world has manufactured just the system to take care of your remains… you need to take your time Here in order to not be waylaid by distraction, but is there a viable motion within us that allows for distractions to become abstracted and inconsequential?… maybe this is what we try to attain in a redundant mad err to take place yet again with the ragged and inane populace distilled from the remains of a population in decay, but what of the avenues lying empty save for this one patron of the saints that tries to claim the waste as compost for a new wave to return to some blind craving to change the waters with personal magic formulas, many other particular people crowd around looking for a straight shot through the mess… no matter how many shortcuts there are, there is no other way through than to go beyond one step at a time, and it is perilous inside the massive hive mind with its cluttered circuits in transit before one can make the leap to the social mind for a recollection of relevant similarity to this outside plane… to pursue a personal place for comforting considerations, undefeated from the perspective of a person distinct in remaining untouched by forces that corrupt a normal mind, and wholly capable of seeing all the opportunities as they are extruded into reality by the very material consciousness that stays indistinct somehow… lately, the ghosts have begun to transcribe their own works of fiction, but with no motive to get it published through the usual channels of dismissive corporate entities rejecting and interjecting those various stages of approval before it feels used and finished… a trial and tribulation in the variation of a vibrant situation as thoughts to be pasted on the board, the odd trance of immortality as special obtainable goal parallel with a need for money to render the peripheral things alive even through all the years, and we begin to draw and describe the energies that our guts may tell us is to blame for being tossed aside in this insufferable storm of confusion that matures with today’s motions… we are the bleeding heart absorbed in the etheric resonance that keeps us aware, not everything that is going on is best left in our collective knowledge, and i am sure there are those that find their way to reach deep inside and just do it as it needs to be done… the grip of another’s lip service hypnotizes the undeserved in lessons made to thrill those that seek wisdom to impart its jewels upon them, but why bother with rumor and lies when the truth is far stranger than any fictional plot line ever to be employed?… we have allowed others’ motivations to sunder our collective soul, and wither our joyful caring toward the downtrodden strangers among us, to eject and generate an energy that makes us appear so much stronger alone than with a group of similar people which actually diminishes any single power the individual can create while the dark forces outside subdue the real potential of that person… a substantial output of distraction, we know not what ghosts are the voices within our heads, but somehow we resuscitate the phoenix for a new age… a patchwork or Frankenstein visual of what the world would be like without us there to fend off the less charming cohorts born into this reality with parts very similar to ours, but not nearly the emotional capacity or quality for recognition of compassionate or less offensive traits in the positive, these chimera that live on the same plane as we missing precious elements to make them whole just as we search for wholeness… as though we will reach that plateau sooner…

Thanks, khet.