“The books one reads in childhood, and perhaps most of all the bad and good bad books, create in one’s mind a sort of false map of the world, a series of fabulous countries into which one can retreat at odd moments throughout the rest of life…”
~”George Orwell” (Eric Arthur Blair); british novelist and essayist.
WARNING; the content in this post evokes imagery of a questionable and disgusting nature. Mature audiences please be advised.
out of Context;
‘the descriptive factors of words defying gravity of stone…the rock and the words are one and the same Here…the battery makes motion happen…stored energy will allow “stone” to sling, trebuchet-style, through the mirror…glory creates its own intrigue…the hands of those that will give relations evoke a symbol calling the angels down into reality like water in the streets…the closest return and rot…’
They are there right now. Everywhere in our midst, keeping a patient eye upon the suckling void active in humanity, and this fatal flaw will always reveal itself given time. To betray a withering self that cannot think beyond the material scope of the reality they seem to hold so dear. The possessions that can take a stranglehold upon their keeper. A misty recollection of what the past had been. Now, just subtle memories overlaid the entire scene the eyes can take in at once. Baffled by the ill-tempered, I stride motionless through the questionable realm of thought, and get to know the hollow chest which is my emotional center, my heart. The mind and body can stray away distracted, but the heart guides the soul to its fateful destination. Weeping in sorrow over the torturous existence that sometimes …
crispy from the fryer, eye have come to spread cheer and enlightened false riches. philosophy is emotional experience, and it moves like friction in the mechanical, it needs something there to lubricate its’ machinations. nihilism makes hippies breed faster, and communally, they resemble rabbits accustomed to rapid fornications. twisting their genitalia into some heated amalgam of fleshes that makes all the bodies move, writhing and thrusting, into bliss ever more temporary from the mouth gaping wide open to reveal the pain beyond the dark swelter. the ejaculates of the mind’s eye have become distorted folly. by all foolish standards, self-parody is the macabre avocation that propels the defiant urge forward in the ‘mic/mac’ cosmos. darkness needs to light that love brings to inflame the wounds from active witness to the pitfalls of reserved behaviors. the actions that inspire billions …
The fissures from the social pressure becomes a force to be reckoned with as I scale the mounts to take on epic conditions above me. My mind feels as yet still too young to pronounce pro-actively. I wonder what dysfunction puzzles my systems, and what the consequence will bring about to face me from the depths.
out of Context;
‘Twisted by the chill winds that crack the air and soil in equal marks…My erosion strikes further inside that I would wish upon my worst enemy…I guess everyone needs a nemesis…Though through the carrion is where I heed to stay in the dark, the pitch is bent to scratch the itch…’
‘Senators leap up and bray for the Death Penalty with inflexible authority of virus yen…Death for dope fiends, death for sex queens (I mean fiends) death for the psychopath who offends the cowed and graceless flesh with broken animal innocence of lithe movement.’
out of Context;
‘The sound, I always go back to the sound, but it is difficult to describe if you cannot hear…’