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Children of the Porn

so Here we are my fellow inhabitants of this circle of smells and biased kinship too much sometimes any try rekindling one of a number of old relationships brought back to understand the wisdom of those years deducing knowledge from the ripe fruits of experience broadening out through extended branches of peace with ideal of life everlasting in someones name further reaching as though umbrella of eternal safety constantly umbilical thrust trusting organic living Mankind manipulated through surgery drugs and Caesarian sections pulling life so bloody from the warm womb state cut out from the dreaming by doctored hands in masks to safeguard against disease freeing them to make decisions of lives and death right there in the moment as it can escape through the breath we take in once released into the cosmic plane floating out from that pool of amniotic bath inside mothers’ tomb of roiling sloughing skein of fluid disengaging us from stage one of the experimental foray into birth as primal humanity borne of happenstance and causality blending in formulaic brew the distinctive parts and traits of ancestry involved, the peak of human civilization attempting everything there is to cross thresholds bounded only by spirits that have lost their flavor for helping handouts in missionary position postulating the end of this perspective pushing boundaries tempting taboos lifting witnessed only by a few shagging on the carpet scraping enough to gather burns and fleas from dicks in pussies naked asses swaying exempted from by square few too tightly wound to prepare for orgiastic proportions of blood sweat and tears grinding pelvises through years of experiential exchange drifting between partners parting company with the champions to live normal lives that suburban banality trading out the creative surge that rebels against tradition means to meaning what life means to them without looking to guidance from other figures striking odd shapes of significance in one’s life which might seem contemptuous from that false stance of objective insight as we are only an object once dead and defeated by life’s neverending jest trying to catch the breaks where few arrive worthy of slight number of working relationships working for the world the way it works today where pain is commonplace, but suffering need not be when opportunity is gained as a first taste to that life most abundant crippling more than one workforce down the line hard knocks heard about through the grapevines in whose sour wines we drown our lives out in typical conversational fashion trends that eat the brains from out these heads containing dreams and dreads psychic amplifiers and compulsive liars approximating the adaptable species related to the beginning when cryptic thoughts fell from the skies as messengers disguised as convoluted cosmic creatures worn down from their crystal palaces to our humble abodes to fuck us over blindly emitting enlightening rays out from deals with our devils passed on to curse our empires with insanity taken literally at those points misread as interpretation when simple whims were the only thing there was to find… what other way was there to find oneself without getting in trapped through the lens of seeing things from outside the natural bounds we might feel ourselves afflicted in as much conflicted with that restricts the freedom of movement we had gotten so used to as time flew by killing friendly ideas passed around like gifts of calculated criticism squawked upon by oh-so-virtuous vultures flying luxurious on frills a simple traveler might not need except for good company and good food to traverse these bewildering verses spilling out to amuse or confuse the trip further towards ancient stardust spirits appeasing them with signals of a personified joy representing us perfectly honed by millennia of grooming, whether resistant to the polarity or not we succumb to those darknesses of the heart that reveal inner pulses of a preventive natural element hidden by psychic shadow curtains of lunatic subconscious insight remaining within sight of the newest macrocosmic plague danse macabre Manmade enslaved as wisdom remains under reigns of ivory tower threads of barest expression based on stoic plots defined by defied deities raised to heights of old god status by self-worshiping scapegoats inbred to burn with haste the fires of desire for an unique self-assured prophecy of future exploits and random picaresque sideways cheats made rich and thick story shared around campfire longings through abysmal surroundings before their cultivation Here, but we are never ever alone on as far as this quest will ever take each of us sorting our collections for us when the time comes to put down professions to take up arms against senility and loss vision overtaking one’s grasp the world around them at an alarming ratio…

Thanks, khet.