All The Wrong Topics dot com

Hairy tainted deal.

sluggish thoughts Here today, could have done so much yesterday, but i didn’t do anything worth value except spend time with loved one… trying to think even now how to be so useful, our times are each very precious, and in a lot of cases end up wasted like the youth we might attempt so valiantly to retain… it is difficult to find a steady work pace, and even more exclusive still, the systems that other people build on their backs with blood whether spilled or not, to find a comfortable work place… one that will contrast against my home life, but i am not on the gospel of the lunatic fringe, no something of a different purpose it would seem… my dusty little hovel side of the room needs cleaning… as the minutes tick down for me, i wonder about the ride taken across the big shitty to get in line for a license, and then i am shook reminiscent of my personal err… destruction of personal property as it relates to a being unaware, cannibalizing my points of argument like the spirits of my enemies, but still the alarming sensation that the peachy veneer to this plateau is nothing more than an illusion… one that has been agreed upon by the servitors to these greater powers, with its interlaced decrees and energies ever-expanding, and eating the bad things at the bottom of the bag eventually… the spirits aren’t what you might call atrocious, the only atrocities lie in the hearts of humanity, and the lost beast to make it a reality… that animal willpower that drives the survival game, but i care not for the holier-than-thou types that don’t seem to do more than complain away the day, leaving change for those other real grown-up types crawling like a cro-magnitzed people outside of a flock asleep… i myself am a hypo-radical, always an ignorant retrolink at one aspect on a spectrum of extremes, but objectively aware of what i am and usually too critical of that being in motion… contemplating the memes as they stir one out of control, insufferable mountains from mole hills arranged and then staged as to look accidental, and that is the hairy-tainted deal my friendly devotees… the incomplete me, that incidental activist of the lowest common denominator made flesh, blood and bone, and Here i sit with the sleeve out to receive the pumping belief… quickly, before the stains need relief, and the loss of blood and love is too great… the wet pressure as it recedes from the hollowed out space, to set the stage for the western disco cowboy as the crowd gathers together, and taking that half minute to look out upon the place… dark clouds move in front of the sun, a movement behind the scenes that pulls it all together, when at the last there is no need to bring the amalgam into being… look at what we have done… we have created the the eater of dreams in our own backyard, catching the priest off-guard as the soldier moves in for the kill, and the bystander can only watch with big old voyeuristic eyes… the filthy beasts we have become from the lack of civility seeded for more than fun, but for the spiteful urge that humans seem to ooze like dripping nauseous refuse… the tactic seems to teach us, to reach within us only at that moment least cautious, and the room begins to swim and sway as we realize the devil is upon us… the accent is defeatist, but the doom-and-gloom seems to win more fans, by far the puppet strings reveal their plans… those ley lines streaming with possessed human beings acting as law-abiding and assimilated, civil spirits dressed as flesh under further pressure to understand what defines this experience, but all while hatching dramas through families and clans as this obscure extremity of tension finishes us off at last… that final and most mysterious breath, describing us dead, but we were more than that…

Thanks, khet.