All The Wrong Topics dot com

Jonesing for the frustration.

why choose the wrong path often?… there is no feasible reason to make failed attempts over and over again, but this feeble i am wobbles indecisively with all my heart and soul as though my best isn’t good enough ever, feeling myself ever more lodged in failure as though like mental cartography in the obscure sense… i don’t believe in your words as ammunition, but rather as desecration in a processing of means-to-ends in a list-like fashion that raises the barrier between people who do not abide by the listing syndrome of others in their ordered sensibilities, and those individuals who dance listlessly among the reckless hulks of concrete and glass that tower above our present day conditions… we are freaks in need of restitution, to renew our feckless constitutions in the wake of true revolt, and we are in need of actual human compassion instead of this defunct by-product of the human condition that has served as dim substitute for all these decades of havoc and mayhem that beasts like us desire in an attempt at stability… we are not insane, and the dichotomy of sanity overall is a useless expression of the enigmatic when conditions are not favorable in making others pursue the will of one mad god over individual rights imbued in imbecilic revelry, the queens are a punctual breed to favor their own in unquestionable orientations the proof of culpability among the unbelievers believing their unbelievable… the skull appears to be blank as a slate chalkboard reused and wiped away to infinity, this bony fragment of what human was to be, but little occurred to refute the ability of humanity to adapt to whatever environment has been thrown at it… a satellite dark age where the burden of humanity never rested upon our shoulders, but the massive is littered with beings who were born to challenge expression no matter what that may lead to conceptually and otherwise, because this Here is the playground where we orient ourselves to the degrees of material motion to astral action ratio that makes it necessary to coordinate between unreal plateaus and those that are naturally spawned into reality… the action speaks louder than the words because like a ringing shot there are echoes beyond this world that we take for granted so profusely, and every action has its repercussion that makes us truly wonder what ‘on accident’ really means, these are the traps laid like landmines in the path of those who would follow us at all… society like demons in the abyss, which surely we are to a certain extent, trying to actualize the impressive traits that we wager our death throes will take when the time comes to react like a mad initiate lost through the intoxicalia that imbibing from the impotent lazarus whip most surely grant one youthful favor over that wretched calm and peace in place as the aged sanctity is broken into like all great experiences for the first time treading year by year into that smaller crevice narrowed by those aged before us… our lack of understanding the lessons first obnoxious residual hook, as our downfall among even the ones that have gotten ahead still fear the whispered jinxing twitch of the wrist, but what is required is a steady even like a surgeon’s hand to access the right opening for that wounded section of sputtering gravity of thought put upon display by the shrugging skin that sheds like dead things ache for a new fresh outlook… the shining light that darkens as soon as the eyes of humanity see a goal so as not to be blinded in the brilliance of so much resonating glory, but this strange gift of epiphany is also cursed with a flavor that re-tailors the guts of that thing you were looking at turns into that odd something completely different with mood and aural description entwined together to create that picture absorbing the mind’s eye…

Thanks, khet.