All The Wrong Topics dot com

there are no organs without the “i”…

organized diatribes on the facts of life as these spoiled sheltered remains seem to expose to elements unknown until knowing that this is the end artifact in human thinking of product and produce reducing us to another mechanism anally-retentive barely inventive enough to fight for a taste of life in walking dead living said customary consumer goodnesses and freedoms granted by a state satiating the creeds of corrupted individuals caring little about charity in those whom will not believe benefits their own in some way ill-defined today that isn’t simply rationalized hypocrisy in crises crisping us under one’s own whims of an authority reflexively poking fun at the blurred lines lying to our faces as the ages of greed transition into something more actually charitable somehow a broken system creates us this way to attain extreme satisfaction whether the terms used define hate or not, the bitter arts of spite and hideous influence all over those other individuals thought so possessed expanding beyond boundaries equipped to explode in some way as yet we cannot see very clearly these pieces of psychic shrapnel at oddities with morality and ethical behaviors lost in conversations like spent shells as casual killing blows to a weakened immuno-memory deficiency crapping out doubts plopped into this seamless circumstance organic by demand to adapt naturally consciousness creates us as we define ourselves searching through crazier conclusions buy the consumer toys left out upon the stairs with flowers everywhere draped and slipping material causing us to fall faster than we would like to say we could, but this is not only learning we do while rolling thoughts over in residual as much askew those perceptive faces lacking the perfection of an actual order to anything but this in the willowy hollow words we speak to each other spinning slowly down the drain locking that Now vital material gain to sustaining the self last amongst other a little while longer than anyone ever expected once having piqued on that plateau said to be harnessed from human achievements met and managed well all simple things getting more complex as time wears on and the beings brought forth take the place of the ones we knew so well oh well the trick is to keep moving along never stopping longer than a lingering look at the past… the genes granted by our forebears carry unique marks of branding that stain existence for some of us collected at various spots on this heathen planet without a plan to escape from the confined spaces though without leaving those tracked distinctions as traces for the senses to receive signals from in the tiniest packages of data delivered straight from source to station because god is on vacation vacated vacuumed into a different location as interloping eavesdropping burning cinders mighty though just as triggered as we are, wedded to this bliss that teases our present as if we ever needed the ghosts of dead presidents to reign down on us from above like sinister zombie relatives taking turns to make you earn your keep on this leaking ship of fools taking trips out from nowhere to the vastly unreal out there that skips days and years to achieve light speed without being too greedy it seems when the moderator merely dabbles in magics of babble as much troubles in law and legal missions requisite by the officiating government of your choosing taking sides and losing to hideous fiends skinning kids and babies alive with knives the size of chopping cleavers while also roasting the insides as they drop outside of a last life-dying scream of doubt to be betrayed by the doctors and their cold stinging err, or the warriors who come out to play and decide they want to kill a man and rob him in the streets crazy from the trip to hell and back attacking another person whether needed or not creates knots in the system cannot untie even as unified and united their might seems to be some good guys some bad guys though the test of casualties becomes the surprising rise in the tidal wave goodbye to eclectic electric gaps far scarier charismas of delicious gravity ahead severing the knots with swirling blades like cyclones whirling a winding wind blown beyond those winsome memory lanes a bit farther than a disciplined Mankind can travel even though from Here you can get very far indeed from seed to maker in hand’s grand sweeping gesture…

Thanks, khet.