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…to what fLuxury is this…

…currency of conundrums beating us down so furiously sometimes it flux you up in the head messes with achievement and accomplishments geared up for decent initiative to succeed having no one else in particular to hold us back or lift us out but ourselves preventing measures taken forward doubtful as heavy steps of progress feel leaden certain of momentum if one could only be set loose instead of harnessed for energy covertly replacing the horsepower guided into place by pressure of your peers scat singing our way through liminal eschatology whose escalation as wielded into tools of ethnomethodology versus sociology, we are not worthy in our secreted excretions seized pleasingly sized to objectify as fetish holding certain mojo about it symbolic of particular peculiar sensitivities some would call mystical in this essence heaven’s lobotomy preaching at us how to live properly via interpretive temporal advocates playing devils wishing to be redeemed by whatever savior we have for the time being justifying our maleficent influences creating tensions between people as though social constructs to be toyed with in sights solipsistic amounting to who we decide to listen to with undivided attention accounting for little as pity party wallowing in psychic wounds, keeping the shit parade going awhile longer by involving oneself romantically with their pain every subtle tribulation to be dedicated to suffering in the most exquisite ways to become beatified reaching some distant ascension as primeval martyr the body rejected behind the energy enraptured with itself and its mission for validation while on the planet condemned to savage acts that precede converting this brief glimpse into perceived divine futures envisioning as motion forward if we attend the right meetings and meet the right people no matter how chaotic the reality truly is finding comfort in each other and nothing more… confiding with whatever capacity we are left nonsensical turning psychotic after neurosis has had its way with us marked off facing terrible odds of certain doom Here compartmentalized instinct thrust to inflict psychic wounds difficult to heal though leaving sensitive scars which trigger some of the worst things finding their home within us playing host because these are behavioral slices made and influenced by artistic shortcuts affording personal escape or retreat rather into ourselves transported by trainspotters smacking themselves up with horses obviously not deciphered from Plato’s forms to varying sorts of drug-related paradise comforting the weak motivated into motion, though are not mere puppets who obey conflicting masters towards disaster streaked with fluids drinking or digesting the bullshit in moderation becoming key to surviving the hostile terrain before it rains on your parade taking hostages wherever it can Here some for ransoms some for trade though all at random when least expecting this veil pulled away from the reality we thought we earned manifested around us to then see it wash down the drain in spectacular fashion trashing ourselves before the real manipulators keeping us chained and enslaved to compulsion betraying us for short-lived bandage repeated without permanent fix, still choosing from faces of evil when all options look bad sampling the local scenery because one can never make much money from dead things in such acts of wasteland grifting so the gimmick must be found amongst the lost that speaks to them all in tone and timbre at once soothing yet commanding to transfix those not to listen with visual propaganda then as well used like ammunition against anyone and everything opposing the simplistic though incorrect ideas of what right ways to live would be usually not those opposing the people in which we serve serving each other…

thanks, khet_:/