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Liar of Orifice

the mood resonates with the shamanic romanticism of the music we hear which allows for the stream of consciousness to open up and grab the various particulate thoughts waiting like fruit to be picked from the tree of life, experience channeled as energistic linguistic in sound and word many times together combined with its ability to conduct and unlock fragments of human reality never before realized in quite the same way previous to what we might actualize now, and from many sides we look very much alike among our tribes even though it is still truer that we are distinct in our separate views of the evidence as reality we each constantly try to prove as truth from our collection of cells as our army and defense of the proof as we know it… whether you strum or blow your wad through a bell, the musica diabolica remains within everyone as fragment of the curious and rebellious interjection as an opposer residing from inside the mind, and it is the perverts of reality that have introverted the culture with their secret and most hushed rituals of self indulgence breaching taboos housed in the matter of the grey into which all reality falls ultimately humble as the exception… the mood resonates with the shamanic romanticism of the music we hear which allows for the stream of consciousness to open up and grab the various particulate thoughts waiting like fruit to be picked from the tree of life, experience channeled as energistic linguistic in sound and word many times together combined with its raw ability to conduct and unlock fragments of human reality never before realized in quite the same way previous to what we might actualize now, and from many sides we look very much alike among our tribes even though it is still truer that we are distinct in our separate views of the evidence assumed a perceived reality we are each constantly try to prove as truth from our collection of cells with our army and defense of the proof as we know it… whether you strum or blow your wad through a bell, the musica diabolica remains within everyone as fragment of the curious and rebellious interjection as an opposer residing from inside the mind, and it is these perverts of the real that have superseded the culture with their secret and most hushed rituals of self indulgence breaching taboos housed in the matter of the grey into which all reality falls ultimately humble as the exception… except reality is not quite so simple like a pimple waiting to be popped as the fated eclipsing stops the random function for gathered impressions from the heavens, the rays as they strike down imprinting the minds inside this lazy circuit beyond a purely human function in realms of this strange intravenous co-reality leaked through the cosmic cycles by a coded rebellion as it crawls up our spines commanding the primal brain to attack, but the intellect derives dispute from these random assaults on the human capacity for vision outside this shell that tries to encase and overprotect the creature inside that begins to hide from the world once the aching confused fringe of youth has not fully dissipated into the dusk of those soon elderly trains of thought… which is not to say that once past this prime one cannot be re-energized with a certain recaptured spirit of which the continued life lead by unwilling restraint conceives as lost once the threshold as a perceived point supposedly beyond return has been breached,
even the muted wisdom of the tyrant has to conform with the clarity as coded in the words that create these paths which intersect destiny and free will as the supposed grows into the literal in this stew of organic breathing reality, but the Muse is sick of this disturbing craze distorting the choices of the people as they swirl encapsulated strands of vibration made alive and questioning the authorities that say we have to be otherwise to affect our personal desires and whims into fruition… wholesome and wretched, each of the compass points remain Here for us the see and use to describe the world with definition and empirical study to change the new religion into a hybrid of science and faith, but a dogma that can appreciate its many and so disparate selves and services as they interconnect into the greater WholE as group progress into the future which from this point is currently an pivotal ideal to start a new civilized foundation upon… we can be creatures of habit running to the coping arms of the addictive once we become all too accustomed with the lies and truths we are fed as the gears grind it out into a ritual of maintenance for this illusion as has been created for us to be controlled by so easily, trained to lose pride as soon as we have a firm grasp of what we are told to do as the walls of a sheltering state gets to be too much for some as their heads cave-in like walls of their suspended disbelief collapsing in on them, but only when those core beliefs held dear become damaged or tested in order to make them stronger by force on the savage streets where anything can and will happen to the lone soul in this brutal wilderness of joy and pain… the music is what tames and tells the tales so frequent from within…

Thanks, khet.