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spent thoughts.

crispy from the fryer, eye have come to spread cheer and enlightened false riches. philosophy is emotional experience, and it moves like friction in the mechanical, it needs something there to lubricate its’ machinations. nihilism makes hippies breed faster, and communally, they resemble rabbits accustomed to rapid fornications. twisting their genitalia into some heated amalgam of fleshes that makes all the bodies move, writhing and thrusting, into bliss ever more temporary from the mouth gaping wide open to reveal the pain beyond the dark swelter. the ejaculates of the mind’s eye have become distorted folly. by all foolish standards, self-parody is the macabre avocation that propels the defiant urge forward in the ‘mic/mac’ cosmos. darkness needs to light that love brings to inflame the wounds from active witness to the pitfalls of reserved behaviors. the actions that inspire billions to live and die under the sun. remnants of the lesser gear in fear of death’s grip crushing into nothingness. worse yet, an unquestionable emptiness. the feelings of desperate arrangements in faith and guilt summoning the creeping sense of certainty that only comes with thinking beyond to void. Indians and Buddhists aren’t the only ones to vier there beyond the senses, and sleep isn’t too far from the truth.