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…Mogwai or the highway…

…exuding from pressurized states of sensory deprivation occasions creating science friction in sight of opinions secrete contrasting severely yet tiring of the near-constant damage impelling one forward out of fear that it recurs in oblivious patterns too difficult to defend oneself from the verbosity of word flux cards held tightly wound against the chest discretionary attitude beckoning with the reckoning of lifetimes whether through networked wet work of digestion as the material eventually must permeate this meat machine individuals are made out of combating heat being which gets the others especially if legions of horrible chefs out of the kitchen, becoming the definitive watermark of particular phases of civilization falling out of general favor and thusly rulership at least one built from animosity will not float easily in these waters where such arks are coveted in order to utilize the assets of nature at our command should we wish to know more and challenge ourselves in figuring out the stray pieces separately to unite some jigsaw frankenstein monster homunculus of dust dirt and other assorted extremities consistent in everything Here except our lives whose varied tales of exception or lack thereof creates dissonance between persons of differing levels of skill, and talent left to be sorted out by your gods and monsters in one fell swoop of battle turned war unfair to anyone who is/was there only bearing witness to what dark reminder the proceedings will become once distant memory sets in and the pain felt is less relevant to surviving the moments as they caress those shadow clouds out of the mind before we must recover them for sordid details to soothe our troubled path conflicted by our actions so often it hurts us too far to notice right away sometimes physically but the collateral damage has been done… Here now enough to realize life is spent looking at mortality for oneself directly though through distant fogs preventing us from being able to see more clearly as instances appear that any closeness to the name of death is difficult truth to confront especially when kicking and screaming for help and life revived somehow more genuine than our previous miscarriages of justice to others undeserving of abuse or punishment even as we occasionally coerce each other into doing stupid upset things whose snares serve the undeniably serious purpose of each instrumental lesson in gravity annihilating those unwary hopefully with painless celerity dissected, to which we cannot provide proof of assurance that we will survive this ride complete or in charge while having to submit to bringing ourselves for self-inspection through circumlocution to sell using that what seems authentic yet is mere gobbledygook taken shape and bought by bewildered masses having abilities to exchange for such extravagance goods worth direct access to what barely little needles in haystacks one can find within systems disproportionately sized for oneself Here deliriously lost from the beat neck freak set that roams wild alone or in packs dangerously high voltage hanging around unsafe and crazy, getting feelings of being coerced or manipulated recklessly from what are emanations of their sheer rudeness screaming bloody murder at anyone who will listen hysterically shaken in presence of light by previous events of a graphic nature between consenting mature adults attracted to the bane of existence because it is now packaged in light love and innocent wishes practical creatures from previous ages refuse dealing with self-fulfilling doubts even their own inner children discharged in the throes of lovemaking laid out altar-like for sacrificial jam sabotaging pressures of this world gremlins appear catching us by the skin of our teeth…

thanks, khet_:/