All The Wrong Topics dot com

…Quatrain wreck…

…the jokers have nothing on me as the hidden aspects of my symmetry placed between clowns and thieves so often zigging to other versions of zagging through the ephemeral trough of life living the best one can under these conditions omitting the light in enlightened aspects drawn toward more darker distinctions amongst the resident flotsam and jetsam Here obligatorily offensive to the senses that we can barely breathe our last enough to fill the glass ceiling up with drowning bodies and the residues that don’t filter out when held against the screen to see what is going on in depths we can no longer affect with our efforts breaking the one-sided bias attached to existence Here, as though like fishes we swim or die within a sea taught as holy vastness from which we are all thought wretched to be saved from other meaner sharks further out and down in the abyss from which we stem to be kept as inhospitable pets for degenerate masters who master nothing but an inner grief being what makes them take advantage of harming others in this life taken for granted to facilitate strife into existence somehow representing the living embodiment of chaos too often to tolerate, scared of being late to the funeral where everything takes on a funereal glimmer as mortality in the mirror reflecting a hate for wrong and love for right reversing only these parts can be described being true through the eyes of individual perspective fucked up and tired to extents too odd to contain or restrain as untruths delighting in the affectation of affection leading and leaving us forced to betray each other and the trust evolved over time between experiences as we continue to search for analogs of our own kindness not the brutality so often confronted Here… states of being versus a doing as proactive selves whom seal the deals with higher powers than us whittling away at corrosive messes fabricated before our captive attentions laid to waste by an establishment who are caring nothing for the consumers except as numbers moving numbers around constantly keeping the resistant currency alive through their more oblivious actions rarely mentioned for the powerful engine whose electric motions and constructions within society’s cities have reigned supreme throttling our weaker patterns into destructive behaviors eroding at attempts to meet a better bottom line where none existed before Now Here liberating, continually fascinated with the oblivious nature of humanity in its depths of mood and presenting a distinct mode of being that is fraught with suffering made up almost entirely of trauma stacked together enough to harness the optimal delusion that nothing is wrong even though too much gets absorbed by the systems in place to separate stories from shades of pain that all ring loudly to the point of desensitization with some who perhaps wish to not see the reality of what remains unresolved as microcosm for the larger whole that knows not utility words that enable us to seek clarity out of the sewage that has become some semblance of waiting for death, indebted to layers of kindness and obligation from authority whose insight we distrust off-hand because our intuition says otherwise about oftentimes subtle treachery afoot though by nature of covert tactics appears to have obscured successes as opposed to explicit violence creating eddies of mayhem in random bouts swirling hectically through the technical snares that hook and tear holes in the arguments meant to be taken seriously once the laughter settles the trends of offending units marching unified dysfunctional series in appearing as humans servile to obscene gestures…

thanks, khet_:/