All The Wrong Topics dot com

Sitting in deadtime.

we worry about so much, that there is no room for others’ baggage to be claimed Here, and there are a handful of ideas that make sense the most in our torture world scenarios… the ghosts in every room look at us much differently than we look at each other as flesh and bone creatures, their shadows are longer and resist the darkness as a means of transposing their substance which is now dark matter/ energy carrying the conscious as an intangible vessel, but these things we are only supposed to learn as fiction becomes real to all of our senses at once… the vanguard of the singularity, as though it were like a gateway to another dimension, is what one might term the ‘Singular’… at one time, the scales lift and lower to reveal the shock that comes with this transcendental growth that purges from our minds as though like a wave of particles shooting across the room from our mind’s eye, and it is this twitching restlessness that finds us in our least calm states of being while Here… accepting all the fragments of our time without understanding until we fill our respective cups with the experience of making things real, we seem destined to stay unclean as long as others’ dirt sullies us while serving their wishes and dreams above our own, and what makes us really unique is that we don’t have to take anyone’s shit if we don’t let them shovel upon our tombstone door, we are designed similarly though without the whole consciousness that surrounds us… it may seem utterly unconscionable to defy any natural urge to be another person’s bitch, but we have to trust ourselves and our intuitions as opposed to the sometimes destitute attitudes of dilettantes and their demented flock of glory seekers, they eat the souls of people who willingly give ignorance their whole lives to play with… sometimes struck by the validity of hearing this, we recoil in an abstract of horror for our accessory to the crime of centuries to come, and there will still be this stone left of us even when we are long dead and gone… many creatures consider themselves chosen, but only the human animal considers this with as much fervor as over-saturates this womb-like existence bathed in fluid we cannot see because it is intangible ethereal juices that envelopes us, but we allow the serious ones to defile our humor with their various validations and critical analyses… our fun is always at stake in this pit of vipers who would rather we wash their windows then think about these things at all, but there is justice for suffering on this plane of balance, it is merely a trick of the mind to convince oneself of this… the mentalists and psychics are everywhere anymore, and maybe one or two can teach you a lesson in their ways, so that you may become more aware over more than just your body consciousness… there are some frightening things beyond the self that we must have the courage to explore, or then perhaps there never was a purpose to how we were supposed to work, just the entertainment of the rest of the unknown universe as we adjust the symbols to fit our needs… we divide and conquer ourselves without remorse and certainly not in a clear-headed mindset where simplicity does not have to be a bane to humanity, where the minds assume their roles and functional positions, but not be considered superior to any other system or being otherwise as those with especially perceptive emotional and physical awareness will most certainly have the same juxtaposition of functionality as those higher intelligences have already become Here… the ghost lingers awhile on the more salient issues it sees the humans contemplate, but it is these entities that drive the other side to this electric currency we may call ‘soul’, as the mood swings ’round and ’round amidst the darknesses like a swirling ball of ethereal fire igniting the skies and heavens in a black rainbow ruse to live and abuse…

Thanks, khet.