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Junkie concubine.

sometimes i don’t like writing as much as spitting the frivolity off the top of my head in a voice that perhaps fits the statement, but even with the appropriate voice there is no guarantee that no offense will be taken when heard by human ears, the words of judgment waiting to be leveled at those the judging disfavor the most… the junk head is this way much like the child who suffers from the clinical scam of attention disorders brought into existence by our own inadequacies taken for granted Here instead of information flaws to grow beyond with compassionate care in this way too-overgrown forest thing we call ‘home’, loaded to the brim with distracting extras that capture the attention as society wishes to allow the compression to remain in place, and pushing all those undesirable traits into the garbage state of bliss yearned for but not for kicks… because it has to be this way where the junkie sits nodding off softly while the sleep attempts to hit like a brick, and sending the odd person off into a state of forever without consciousness again, hitting the skids by the seat of the pants all to push the edge of what we were taught to repent… idiots holding up crosses symbolic of what we will do to you if we do not like you, making the shameless moves through you instead of actual human agents because the punishment is so much stronger through a mauling internally and psychologically, but society has set up enough pins in a row that one becomes a statistic sooner than later… the odds are always stacked in the favor of the house where nobody lives but everybody visits, flashing lights and betrayed emotions at every turn and blazing in effigy to shine light upon the dread forces there at all times though good ones and bad, but one must be on the lookout for the people disguised as people… they are the ones who are not human, but merely playing the roles they have used to receive what they wanted, even if that means the imminent destruction of another or the self as the victim or proposed martyr… harnessing the harmless farce as it is depressed, and it is a crummy life when you have no one to confide in, always in fear of judgment at every intersection… a certain amount of crosstown traffic, if you will, that makes confusion stronger than one might fare a guess at truth Here… a caption in timeless err… to breathe the err is to lose with grace and take your chances with care, there is never any time ever like the present presenting itself to the presenter as opportunity fits and favors the critical enslavers and of course not the artist who wagers differently, but who really cares about that story anyhow?… maybe those who wonder if they are the living dead from a purely alarmist perspective, but how do i know, i don’t even read this stuff myself and know even fewer lessons about life itself… the stinking corpse from an overdosed jonesing for a fix of the shit that one should always quit before their time gets to be too late, stuck in the box filled with regret or with escape from this, but no matter as the living keep moving on from states of bliss into accepted forms of taking shit… what is this trick?… i became unworthy of compliment because i have realized it all derives from something else other than itself when we speak of inspiration instead of just respiration, breathing life into the substance as shortcut to insight cutting short the subjective viewpoint living provides us all, and human animals seem to inevitably require the mute companion in long undetermined treks across the waste we might call these united states of ‘Merika by this time in fact… trying not to cater to just anyone but the specific kind of clientele that permits change to occur because there is no constraint of fear made from the plastic gossamer and dross that inhabits to overrun our world, and it currently commands the human logic circuit to meet its ends through human hands as a functioning pyramid scheme of minds cramped together for the eager dream of success trumped by power through knowledge and skill… how to work the machine from inside without losing perspective of the outside as it dares to remark and act carelessly at first, which can be a devastating result in and of itself, but not without the natural consequences of course filling the gaps with its own preference… other than rage against the machine, we also feel disappointed by how easily we are manipulated by these systems…

Thanks, khet.