out of Context;
‘you don’t trust them with their flim-flam personal displays swaggering to take control if you don’t watch out for your whole, knots you cannot see linked though by invisible thread tied like the rest of us tied together for better or words that decide to sever their relationship forever with our essence in the which where we credit the winner with the glory of the massive a collection of souls weighing heavily upon the face of this earth as heathen as it may seem to be with regard to a killing deity dispatching without mercy, and it is we who become trapped in our own definitions needing to be broken in at least a house-broken way so that we are not responsible for cleaning the mess made after we have left…’
out of Context;
‘only fooling themselves into thinking these things certain, and yet these cracks are now showing themselves as contradictions of theory put into practice as more methods added to the madness swirling confusion into a deeper embedded tragic sum of parts but gracelessly shuffling with a tag of sadness at our heels… screaming bloody murder silently as the matter dulls the sounds of that haunted taunting from within mingling with a few ghosts of your own friends as aspects to your dream that never end even if you do, there are more than horrible things that the imagination can summon to frighten a specter out of you so that you run babbling trying to convince everyone of the end about to come as a dirge waiting to be sung in low mournful tones for regret of not knowing…’
out of Context;
‘something animated through the detritus we conceive of to produce to somehow tuck us into the place where this space/ time riddle conflicts in distracted path, and can the altered fates this animal of Man whose protrusive curious demeanor means curiosity in urge to conquer ridiculous fears and those apprehensions that try to eat the solo self taken as granted in a universe as full of fellow conquests debated and razed through the ages paid in the wages of sin and a lust for life and terror for mistakes made wading waste-deep in the excrement of the past…’
out of Context;
‘it appears that people wrote these laws and rules most of whom were men that could not do much more to advance divine intervention than to acknowledge that workers need more time relaxing to endure the monochrome colors limited in relation to the actual world we live in… and the work week carries on. no matter where you are or what it is you do, there are certain qualities about working that separates mind and body by allowing the body’s motor consciousness a control with which allows some to think about many things at once or with more focus as perception concentrates itself into a narrow beam to activate the energy for multitasking for example requiring a slightly higher perception of a person’s immediate surroundings, and diversion then becomes the bane of the activity…’
out of Context;
‘this oppressive idea of oblivion used in eliminating oblivion from thinking as the heart gets lost in its’ own twitching spells disposed to making one think endlessly of those fucked up instances where if only a bestial side of ourselves could awaken and eliminate the creeping distortions inherent in trying to live a life free of those killing obligations from which others seem to suffer, what loses me is how much i want to suffer as the martyr set upon as a person deserving of this instrument of torture for their people like sacrificial scapegoat sent into oblivion just as easily with a knife or noose yet that is how cruel we have to be in order to kind of get anything what we want done or the corpse gets left unidentifiable to authorities…’
out of Context;
‘something counter to whatever whiny muscle rock that seems to me to permeate mainstream rock radio for what there is left of that old ideal out there of jerks as profitable role models because my ear is not groomed for the radio anymore now that i have experienced a strange climate change between school-age and the person who is writing these words now, and i guess i somehow have always wanted to produce satirical outsider art in the truest sense of a satire trying to be a reflective tool expressed like maybe a ‘canary in the mine’ scenario holding relevant meaning up effectively until the canary like the run-on joke dies a horrible death…’
out of Context;
‘constipated institutions which work even worse than the outside because of all the rules in reverse pressing against us and our resistance against that wrecked of an ideology, but still we move on and give of ourselves to the others that appear worthy the gifts of human interaction as we have come to know it in this distract rear view of the good old days when there was never any need to be this hostile or suspicious of fellow humans in motion doing whatever it is they choose to do in their own time which is none of our business personally… but somehow worms and maggots will edge their way in where they do not belong to try whittling information from the wilted choices of word that people in their weakness and vulnerable states falter attempting…’
out of Context;
‘inflicted with these conflicted beings in motion uttering nothing but broken words that cater like a hammer striking to the back of the head trying to knock some sense into the brainpan as only humans can, be ignorant to each other and reap the fruits sewn by these obnoxious actions as only the evils within could manage while the ideal you is tasked away with other oppressions pressured by the rest to wash and drain the stained marks from sight, but it would be nice if we could actually listen to each other even though no one seems capable of anything but doing whatever they can desire to make happen whether that conflicts with the others or not… we may wish for so much that it seems as though only nothing can satisfy the inner eye…’
out of Context;
‘ritualizing the lifestyle like the slaves to extracurricular idols as saints with the church veneer and the shining screen teeth eating against type the believers and their beliefs like a treat or snack of casual urge to consume, but to assume the ends means nothing of the result of attacking with a hunger gnawing restlessly in aggressive longing to conquer the meal one presumes to give its livelihood for a value in the devourers’ cookbook canceling one residual avenue for food… sustenance in small steps taking critical charge as the visually gory love for blood pours off from the screaming faces raped and tortured in scenes witnessed flickering through a tiny window quantified by experience of cheapened trauma allowing the dismissal of the real fates of the human beings…’
out of Context;
‘the journey of living makes some more weary than others swaying and bound to fall overboard into fathomless waters in this dream made up of seamen as the roles we are fit to tailored to serve as a crew as each member keeps the vessel moving along toward the horizon line beyond this life, and the body can have its’ own agenda and will not always care who thinks themselves at the helm or controls of this ship… you can either ship wreck or ship rock and enjoy the ride feeling the waves sway you side to side as you glide like the rest of us, some of the others cruise at speeds too volatile to handle as a general guiding rule for anyone else to apply, but constantly we miss the flowing of substantial progress…’