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…my shit is death art…

…suggestions are not necessarily support when merely walking the earth gets us a citation according to the rules at work Here where children have tougher more resistant times with each generation as enacted can play in the world around us built up like a cage or dome to use varying analogies that may take up the slack for a time while it remains fortuitous to default this way without source from which to draw core values such as resourcefulness or compassion for others like ourselves who drift from time to space and back again as our minds vacillate between those states, obscenity and taboo are words controversial to use Here without attracting the demographics that respond as panic chastens their further resolutions that shatter due to static that builds up resistance from also anyone present that cannot decide but instead are struck with an option paralysis smothering any hope of freedom from a suspension of disbelief this suspicion that coagulates when a canvas revealed the deeper pain as a canticle and suffering its harmony, accumulated our shit eventually feeds the soils becoming brackish floods without hesitation in sinks with harsh finalized fluidity before we move onto tabula rasa style curated compulsions by our point of compromised view a different topic to clear the slate in trying to find any relevance in this particle zoo that undulates with energy and motion as any other body of water we find ourselves required to adapt in order to connect Here the familiar to the unknown of There through any means necessary as cosmic patchwork tapestry that chain links from the basest root to a thinned out atmosphere and everything in-between the atomic lattice-work found fathoms into surface reality… studying nature’s own nanotechnology as it comes and goes on stepping sideways through in timESPace frustrating moments while adhering to unspoken rules that are universally set with a certain timing into something uniquely produced though not at all productive object imbued with salivating sadism smiling as the doomed generations are well-fed a grotesque diet of worms as they writhe inside the guts such a wriggling in searching for the way out which may not always be pushing the path of least resistance, gasping as when breath gets knocked out of us thrusting forward leaving this being vulnerable and fragile against those very shitty things exposed we thought we could stand up against without exception except when we least expect it within the parameters of making sense or having some basis in reasonable logic though it doesn’t always appear as such before the soiled spoils of war unfair slakes the thirst the breathing method of blood hungry ghosts the humans become Here when all other options are lost or tossed away when choking to cope crossing lines like wires the whole world looks as though it might make anyone curious wonder who are these puppets connected by the strings of theory as much physically-encountered analog to these burgeoning ideas trying to force themselves to the surface to be accepted and universally validated among the appetites of the damned Here, the art of death may scream bloody murder to any who may lack the vision to really perceive but there is always more behind the superficial veneer imposing multiple ambivalent layers as a wall to prevent individuals from pressing questions any further than some agreed upon standard reinforced by a society that shifts constantly as alternate means to achieve imagined heights of power and respect are discovered then exploited even if a use of force kills the creative tastes controlled by a violent submission to brutally conform…

thanks, khet_:/