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by choice, clowns strike wit.

the winding road sound alone and proud as the ace is defaced one flying card at a time as the error blows the deck stacked to the floor where our hero swimming and prone in the gutter moving in no logical sense save the ground zero sake, where in the darkness the skull is baked in the sun with mutilating strength day after day in the quaking desert as shifting sands of dust like hands of rusting time trusts us to grow old and wither to running as the decapitated chicken in serving our system to the death it seems, but housed in this thing the human as an animal tries enduring marching candle burning consciousness that never ages a day as the rest decays away eaten by those slaughtering fiends who cannot take no for an answer unless you stand invisible to their singular echoing rage… the helpless are less for the help as they refuse like trashing the best of us for what we love to lose in this particular type of faithless waste encapsulating fate while we sit and wait out some next incoming message that soothes our curiosity, a disturbed brat who decides to attack us only to amuse itself in those rainy day blues choosing out of the blue with a swift approach too intense to measure accurately in the moment as active agents have made all motion oh-so subtle as not to notice, and as these senses register more than just the feedback and damage in filtering either anger or the drive to be more than just a host to this elder organism feeding as it subsides on dread to the result of madness as it endlessly plunders the blighted peoples in their native lands and as left underfed… united we fall as the plunger pushes us all down the flushing pathway as tunnel to traffic the unwanted taste of fecal hassle through the passage without a right of way as that would be confrontation we don’t want Here in this disposable world culture of cures that kill us, the movement of thoughtless cues through the ages as these roaming peoples have left traces in various parts all summed up in this distorted phase as obscure thrill for the chosen few disturbed by screaming psychic visions attempting to manipulate the living experiment in all its facets, but what of the issues passed between the horrid distrust and frozen souls whose automatic reaction is caught in narrow headlights as the deer running along the same way gets struck off into the underbrush by an oncoming thrust of speed and energy… this is dedicated to the animal within all of us in the out there reading or hearing this from first to last time as it drifts along through a protean miasma that has never known what it was until it became something more than just some memory of the experiences that build this life beyond merely a fragmentary elemental terrain, where the heart does not seem totally emboldened by the life juices flowing through this emotional vessel as the night drags day out of its cold cocoon to reignite in the mourning ritual as the phoenix rising from the ashes whether bird of prey or sent flying as the withering egg finally leaves nothing but rich growth in the flaming wake, and society made of stone and steel remains as a skeletal wasteland to turn into tomb transformed into a womb for the rest of the world and its next denizens crawling inside the space betwixt as the swirling orbit comes to rest bounded at all ends by the gods’ suture which fails to mend the urge to release to again search outer spaces other than those found Here… the gasp of air as we are born into this thing sucking in oxygen for the first time and an uttering of cries that cannot be tamed except by soothing balms and mother’s lullabies soon to ingrain lessons and working orders for the next in line to serve the greater cause with flawless faith, a leader made from shit-stained tasting parties of finer material things that will not easily be abated by mere action toward satisfaction within the webs of intrigue spun thick in perpetual patterns of instinct and conscious distinction both together and apart from this human herd as chattel, but we are not just as penned in a creature awaiting a whiff of the slaughter or a cult hero for those of us who dislike or distrust cults immensely because of being misled… you are all my people and this never was a cult disguised as a civilized monster whose tricks might try to refashion this reality into a depraved mockery as manageable situation into which we would all fall into the bin, a distortion shows through the thin veil of words and decadent whims to find a proper purchase overlooking the whole hive unfolding out from beneath the lifting power in this ivory tower conquering knowledge as a kingdom might fit, but we are blind if we are ever to believe that we can control these major problems with little or no effort while maintaining the bizarre structure that tries to suck the marrow from the bones enchanted by forgotten ancient spells weaving the DNA strand from thin err into solid form manifested to preach and sin while damned to stand firm and commit sin again…

Thanks, khet.