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Suffering succotash.

the greens are the last thing on your minds, aren’t they, even though they are quite good for the system… however, we as cockroaches don’t eat those kinds of sustaining raw foods by now, and a good portion of us eat the anti-food in repeated gusts of activity rejection… we beat the machine to repeat itself, the coin to the slot, thrown to the bushes for the sake of the musicians walking out… what a waste of the money in that pursuit of romantic delights, or that pursuit of rest in spite of those noises shutting out the earthen being, taking hostage the ways that we invaded despite our best efforts… the over-stimulation can make the souls of some cringe, those not native to this plane express a disregard for the ‘soil-worked’ souls Here, and knowing what to do is the last of the worries within the riddled form… the survival intrinsic even though i have assumed the role of the practical antagonist in relationships to bliss i am knowing, aspects of that greater whole that gives much of itself by proxy, and that lonely cold road that beckons from the edges of knowing delight… pattern makers breaking with traditional behaviors because of the disjointed approaches of the sick-fed hosted within our warped and depraved notions… the cosmic ocean shudders for an instant that eventually repeats or expands into a fleshed-out commotion… these are the real influences, derived from this perceived taste of knowledge, perverted by a culture unknowing… the deprived end of a privileged stick that wiggles in the air just above our heads, when struck with it, the tint turns a little bit pink… whacked too much and the mind draws back as the cravings for some status bloody the lumps a bit… fresh from the love-sick gestures that build the pressure of resentment, that electric static zing pulsing through the everything, allowing for our wasted interest to overwhelm us at best… where the rest have become friends, we have become enemies, but only in haste do we strike that turning page that neither of us tends to be on together… the stormy weather hits the boards with pleasure stinging as the anger and insults stack higher and higher… feeling like ‘no exit’ in sight except with two instead of three stuck in displeasure with each other forever and ever…

Thanks, khet.