All The Wrong Topics dot com

NEMATODE

Not Every Memory Ascends Toward Optimal Divine Ends… worming through shit to reach a higher plateau as weight and pressure inflict themselves upon a creatures’ physiology embedded within the expanse of the macrocosm trying to pry away and to force every single microcosm to be digested remarked upon and defined by itself and responsible of consequences as a living memory as the Self embodied is as this, worm turns conqueror or snake as ouroboros of our lifeline determined Now as the singularity represented by each one of us in the out there as beasts manipulated by our own atavism through the learned traditions, and their slanted biases over our eyes filtering what love might be through any pores of the senses made sensible by fears and abuse taken to levels unprecedented instead of horrid desensitization from histories before us Here making sense of what is left as the distance leaves us worried for the future as futile as this act can be to broken egos like cracked eggs laid without a thought or timing of when it is a ghoulish regression to return as the human animal… as wyrm in the draconic sense that breathing in fires of imagination and out of the mouth a madness a conflagration sits to intimidate those cold and indifferent persons who betray a depth of truer wishes to becoming another lost cog inside of this machinery gone astray, when everyone else is very obviously against whatever the truth may be it is true that this medicine mocks perhaps as it heals these insinuations difficult to swallow without some stubborn defiance pushing one to grasp those ideals least chosen as the curiosity expands to contact this mysterious refuge of consciousness, and the ease with which are thrown out as many details completely through that elemental window of the soul as it mirrors us what our intent really is as well as potent forces cycling throughout variable human universes using words and symbols to release the energy creating these things that happen amongst the people… we are so much more than our rotten consequences as inactions and reactions make glimpsing this determinate dynamic more intolerable, and these beings we are cannot be mighty gods when merely frail beings in stories unfolding a sight of larger more expansive end goals to which Here it remains clouded by the delusions and mysteries galore, fascinating all those lured to the devious precipice off from which nothing but the dread of helpless reflection fills space out and beyond this mutating wilderness…

Thanks, khet.