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PUNC! rawk…

the ways we communicate with each other through symbols and certainties that seem to be irrevocable as in punctuation, grammar, and the ways we have defined communication with each other for too long now… we strive to live in a modern age where layers of sense have built up throughout the many decades since humanity could conceive of itself from the outside looking within as both means physical and spiritual to define the world around us, bound by instinct that resounds in harmony with an inner music comparable to the stars blinking beyond over our heads as the spatial delivery of this consciousness travels farther than imagination to get where we are going once the cycles have guided us toward the atmosphere Here, but it is as the skin is finally being pulled up over the bones for a fashionable birth that reality ultimately gives way to the newest of arrivals as space and time warp to allow this entrance to occur… a breach of screeching winnowing outward projection easily it teases doubts where none but confidence in total were steel mantras pushing this forward momentum to further reinforce hoping for the nude beginning again, and it is these layers leading to trial and err that speech staggers along in the wake of a futile explanation for anything but abstraction describing of action made to control and fasten the next thing to the next one in line dropping out of the same chutes as the rest of us, rebelling against the womb will get you into detention closed off from the influence of reason until a pop of an explosion warps the perceptual viscera into collapse around you as others begin to view the debris you have left as though you could say triumphant aside from the cynical reactions maintained out of a stubborn belief keeping things the way we know them in stasis… it is a crooked fragile thing then as anything that questions these perceived certainties utterly shakes a foundation seeming as old or older than ourselves, communication and the perfection of this quality as much as the idea of control trapped within this living mechanism by birth as ripping dichotomy trying our patience, but all is not lost as long as we can keep our end of the conversation rawking with this sense of freedom… closing our minds to many things to avoid a painful allergy to the truth when viewed from another person’s perspective, or worn like a hat inside of a head relaying the way things may appear closer to a completely different version of reality, we all have our misconceptions of this or that rule…

Thanks, khet.