All The Wrong Topics dot com

nothing As sacred.

what ridiculous proof of anything is it to have your child protected by an unseen veil of unconditional love projected from your heart, and to have the realization that other forces have convinced this creature to side against you, not those speed demons that have the past bugged but those whom the child calls ‘family’ on the other side of the genetic pool… the familial ties connected to wealth and charity are senseless lip service trying to bind towards indoctrinating the disaffected with money… anyone that keeps a consistent pattern, people hate universally because of their own flaws projected… blanched and bony separations of the self… we seem perturbed when the child strays so far, and then comes crawling back for the support the parent was obliged to in the first place, otherwise there should have been some planned parenthood back then… too many reckless hoodlums in the world cast out of the ideas of privilege when the sheltering became an experiment into how far the parent could do things wrong enough to scar, trauma apparent everywhere so how is the home environment just so different from the real, and especially when you can’t get a word in edgewise to penetrate the ears let alone minds of the people you are trying to reach?… there are discrepancies in this story, the rebellion is cut short by the genes of the lurking manipulators whose only reason to bring children into this plane is the creation of a scapegoat, and to inflict a sense of “world” order upon the more inferior of classes… what lies we are fed and oblige to continue to believe even as those ideals are proven wrong to follow closely… even as the naive lamb is run to the slaughter by the heartless mob mentality called ‘society’, there are tears of joy that conflict with the rage and anger at betrayal from the hands of leaders because they wish the changes to push themselves to the forefront of the human consciousness, and set about to cryptically terrorize and cannibalize the remains of what justice we ever had to begin with… the monsters we have become in order to progress our own selfish existential plight, condemning the thinkers with rusty tendrils recalling death as the pale rider, and still we live as though there never will be a tomorrow in the future… we glimpse the sun shining through a manic occult expression that makes us panic so quickly when we are young, as though time were taking forever to bring us to fruition, but the juices never stop flowing through us even after thirty… it all seems as though like a waiting game in some awful respect… the growth into adulthood is really a veiled attempt to spend our energies fruitlessly for the gains of others who mask themselves as the charitable forces surrounding us, but whose real agenda is ingrained through that genetic code only handfuls could consciously break right now if they tried… looking for a total absolute truth as opposed to the invaluable little truths that litter the atmosphere as particular matters and issues that change over time into tissues of the flesh in time with beat and a rhyme all uniquely its own, left wondering if there is even any degree of certainty to these words to which mental gravity pulls out through the mouth in odd pacing and patterns to describe this dysfunctional quality of nature, but the trains of thoughts long past their prime have begun to coast upon magnetic railways to the sky where the god head lodged itself with wish to die… but is god dead?… or just the scattering of seeds in our minds?… the sundered flesh of the dead thing in our beds as the consciousness shifts to lands of dream instead of listening Here at hole in my head, this is the trip i have lived for, the edge of the vessel taken one step further than had ever been planned…

Thanks, khet.