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ass babies from Inner space.

we rape the seed and call it canola, pitching a fit every time we are a year older, and by lessening degrees does this disturb me… as the internet pulls the lively interaction out of us all, a certain amount of invested attention gives rise to new details as the view unfolds again and again through the essence of universal consciousness, and straining in attempt to see what others might consider a veiled truth lurking in the cosmic underbrush as it is hidden by so much distracting matter… whether it is far nobler to give in to the mighty truths of others, giving their systems the upper hand for your own learned intelligence which by proxy gives them the power to state ugly words and terms of hateful hidden gestures over your life’s work for decades to come, but the rebellion comes in so many forms capable to shatter the current mode of deranged stasis to which we have become all-too accustomed as the rage in our hearts builds to greater and greater extents as the rebels begin to overpopulate those wishing to maintain this thing the way it is… oh, the precious interpretations are out there, dear reader… the fascist university does not have to be the standard of living for us all, and as we can all be witness to how being specialized by degrees does not make us any more wealthy than what we learn through experience can give us, please forgive these sins i have made again against you… the years can whittle away at the psyche of a person for only so long, and then it is down to business as they say in some circles that i have heard of once or twice, to be the serious ‘hard’ worker with a universal hatred for people less than yourself is the castration of this world culture’s rights to be the asshole… you may say the wrong thing most of the time, but Here we are relieved by how others could be like us if they could only change their ways, proceeding to “be” in a different way that compromises their entire being… less an obsession with this place than once thought true because insight reveals our hidden motions terrible through the ether, which is to say that the truth hurts all of us sometimes in undefined ways that we won’t feel until this time and space idea gives way to the next new possessive display, and the surge of indiscretion washes over the crowds as to them no harm was ever done… we want to rub it in their face just to feel this shamed later when the coffin shuts closed, and the world will never ever know who the real you would have been, that was all left for your experience to create when owning up to this self-defined reality you have once lived… the dream becomes real again always again as those left to live are shown new lessons that gives one an idea of what is really out there, you could say it is a state of bliss, but how right do you wish it to be forcing your belief as it uses the energies everyone else has to give?… how is it that we all come to learn these things and take them for granted as ‘givens’, some people crave adventure where others yearn for stasis, and yet these things are absorbed by a culture in transit with all the access open even as we realize the doors shut once we are through… i am not god merely an anti-social person adept at possessing myself for these deliveries of mental spatter as the brush strokes those nerves which never calm down, and paints me into the corner where the only thing left is the berserk, with the words coming to my aid like sacred warriors that leave my body quivering with release…

Thanks, khet.