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Loathing as a form of freedom.

So I stepped into these pants merely by accident, but the way there was through the network of humans disguised as stick figures… Trapped into a need to free oneself through the truth of violent regression… Is that madness?… We speak so highly of others that sometimes the confidence of self can grow drastically weaker by comparison… The gates sometimes close to the resistance of the narrowed perspective into darkness of oblivion touching them… Ideas manifest randomly to keep the thought structure afloat, trying to break the surface of the deep and cold plunge into innovation’s pathways, and the deeper one goes the darker it seems to be that one has to crawl through in order to reveal more of path in hindsight… Very few of us have the headlights blinking able to see through the pitch-black shit ahead of our destinies, but those that do can take for granted their gift so easily, as hindsight is equally twenty/20 for us all… There is no banishment from this experiential foreground, the humor is well within reach, but how many will dare to hold its white-hot flames?… The thrashing jerk and pull of trying to loosen the excrement from its throne as ruler over the ignorant horde, massive and impeccable, but still rather stupid about each others notions of right and wrong… So then there stands the misanthrope… The womb is rusted shut, but learns much playing the ancient man’s games… Divide and conquer… One of the horsemen laughs in tone with these childish, messy antics… Messianic, manic and prolific….protean and malnutrious of mind… Where are these dark forces that so much propaganda has built up in the collective consciousness like a goliath?… The fear lies no where but within the heart of each pawn it strikes down… Cast off the castrated panic, and fear nothing until you own demise has been met, the horse and rider are one..

Thanks, khet.