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a parasite lost…

“Milton took a pill and woke up in Wonderland…” presiding the depths of known humanity is dark and at times bleak to witness as information beholden to a futique realism gone astray as nascent pieces of a collective atrocity lurking below conscious recognition held taboo by societal constraints of an immoral questing we take ourselves too seriously to fake it until we make haste to succumb to the conformity that allows or denies such dreams as a bewildering chaos to endure through the fury of heavens spent reigning us in like sheep or cattle rattling with death urges turning the world into raw meat to be eaten and digested with a most disgusting culinary analysis, vorant forces at work chewing up with gigantic machinery all the while smaller mechanisms are acting to breakdown the other pieces as efficiently as possible in this whirling world of variables forcing us to pool our resources to create anything worth having Here that won’t be suspect to sudden changes unless the edges become frayed by those the most afraid of fear binding us in chains both metaphorical and genetic as the stress and strain of human motion can embed the oddest traits deeper than flesh, and on into the realm of the parasite whose trivial reality is comparatively nothing when contrasted against the strength of collective say swaying opinion and our ideas of ourselves so out of proportion with the general law crushing out our instincts from those it chooses to use intellect instead though at the expense of compassion either way as babies fed onto the conveyor belt whims of society left to fend through those mentors and friends until these loathsome mires and pits of inviting the degradation and depravity open up as we have had enough of their obnoxious facets… but we are the real fascists set on making everything more than it seems to be if only for our own gratification selfish in the long run as plans for maintaining control further as this humane illusion Now threatening the suspect agents of fortune who maybe can work with our collected best interests in mind as in myth perhaps fallen guardian angels left picking up the pieces on a shared journey to meet our own heroes and foes as fulcrum to the levers of power moving as the switches in time with the melody matching odds with sods strained by sounds tracking our every movement down under, a wonder that any of us ever succeed into the gears of this grinding anarchy as the humans stumble and fumble for certain that push and pull in waiting for pressure to crush us all into the hellbox will happen in our lifetime smashed and pressed against the walls subsumed like a grape into the process of trying to cultivate each one of us for our own delicious juices as metaphor for our benefits and side effects given, and reassured by the serpent urges as godlike demi-urgent a robot attempting to reassert complex scenes of the biblical proportions we have had to endure while swooning to the enticements that rumble distractedly across intention…

Thanks, khet.