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How To Serve Hive.

no person has the power to declassify another person’s existence, it just cannot be happening, as no matter how powerful one feels they are there are limitations to active insightful consciousness… all seeming to coagulate as the human entity with modes separate in emotional, physical and mental realms as the creature walks through this mortal plane among us, and we ARE all hybrids here lost within the depth of ourselves and our problems with solving and synthesizing the disparate details which only appear to relate on the barest of tangents to which the mind can leap in a conscious game of responsible puzzle solving… the game was made for human individual growth even as the survival game once played true is now one played for kicks by forcing the “rats” to make due with their miniscule chunk of the cheese, moldy instead of golden but still a fool’s eager march into the maw of the mutilating machine that wealth has become, and those with their actual gold buy a way to make the others feed their hungry cannibal tendencies which is the real purpose they seek… not equality with their relations, but some sinister will to move primarily to get ahead on this horizontal material plane forgoing the real need to grow into the vertical space, filling out the gaps nonetheless between the spiritual and the material spark that is caught enacting an electric ritual that provokes and shocks the system into movement like a cattle prod thrust into the mewling infant… we still crawl the surface of the earth even when we fly the airplanes that glide and tarry between locations, and we are sailing seas in ways not unlike our primordial ancestors born from the oceanic reality swathing the planet in precious water, the liquid life that can drown as easily as it can be drank by the local inhabitant with no ill side effects… unless you have a mind to think that all water no matter how filtered is the distilled ooze from which we stem as animal life living as kings and queens in the modern apathy as it projects itself out through us all, the effluvium and erotic ectoplasma that one might call a materialization of the hidden potential that reality holds, and this no matter what direction of the spectral pattern you come in from… then it behooves one to be aware of all the angles involved when one decides to get involved, the points of prismatic reflection as the divine light hits the third eye which allows for the mind to project forth both thought and emotion from where it is that most of the personality stems from, and we trail off curiouser and curiouser into one extreme wonderland after another with nothing but the memory of dead rabbits to guide us out again… every archetype at some time or another becomes a version of the “savior” energy that uncertain and larval brain attaches itself to in idolatry of a greater good absorbing and warming the kindness of strangers, we decry the one who becomes anointed as saint among sinners, but only within the native timeline that created and raised the supposed guru among the ignorant, in classical ages past the life line was terribly short for these enlightened iconoclasts which turns into canonization long after the brutal death was well-documented worldwide… there is no true order within the chaos of being, only assembled parts of the greater whole made to manifest at the key times when multiple points create the final answers that the next generations take with them as life lessons and adages, and it is a narrow gap that requires these details to fill it to the edge of consciousness whether dreamt of or made real by the motions of humanity… building a construct to continue on into the vacancy that is left when power surges through both right and wrong hands to create a complete circuit that can change both the states of matter and the states of mind, but the decision is always held by the ones that remain the most informed or most aware when the ability to respond is weighted and measured through an annoying monkey-wrenching mostly mundane, playing havoc between our ears beneath the tightened features our twitching facial muscles betray, the only means past the onslaught is defense by madness it would seem to me… much like any other person, though, i am nobody special so i will keep serving the structural weakness which is the grinding machination that becomes death over the course of many a lifetime lived by career alone while strapped to said grind…

Thanks, khet.