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Of corny and callus’d ones…

what a mirror sees is far differently described than what it is that i see as the subjective person as it is merely reflections of light that permit me to try relating the outside world to my internal analog because of senses that i barely understand while presently Here within this richest abundance yet is always constrained by all of these conditioned obligations as the functions of slight corruptions are erupting into as vacuous an attention eluding the perception of truths as the shadows dancing around this light reflected back upon the person viewing images caught in sight of that window, that personal panorama of dreams torn asunder from the seams of sleep where it is we reside most comfortably awaiting a kinetic jostle from cold data around the way as gated threshold encoded to doors of perception unladen by swallows of dry wit too droll to affect the accents that perhaps make it a joke worthwhile as these killing notions motioned for our discovery of the dread and gory details cheating us out of our obsequious feelings when sickened toward distraction most vile, but there are a few of us as hesitant tools in this box of pandora’s nightmares in a canned (s)laughter now running loose racing for clues to solve or become insolvent on into some degree of ghostly in hosting their own degenerate wiles within the electric ocean of these human skins to end at fervent schemes clotting the humanity’s pace into vain attitudes of dramatic distortion slithering into thoughts steeped in mystery as much misery that enshroud the personal terror and trivial horrors on muted sounds mourning that mutate… dilate the sights we have seen as visions some glories while others form the story of what it is we do Here as many a timed group of minions faltering on steps toward holy as region we will never visit nor appear to reach if we are NOT as a tight legion of souls all for one and one for all swashbuckling in the storybooks we grew up listening to then reading in-between the lines when we could stay focused enough upon the few tasks at hand without getting lost within these substantial twistings of plot and conclusions, or disarmed by the figures we reckon are accurate enough to equate to surface solutions creating small pockets of a temporary sanity in the mess we have devised for ourselves manufacturing ‘greater good’ from our actions inasmuch ideals that take us away into the future as a futility of emotional content for the better of our species distrustful of any and all intrusions, drawing the lines in sand that fade away as the span of time drags our minds from those petty games played to keep us chained together like beasts short-leashed to a fence post or telephone pole with only meters between what we are and as we could have been restless in our shared anxiety as concocted systemic infection of society slips into restraint yet again to mirror the lives that have lived Here before when things were just as askew as before we dropped in to join in the sprawling fun…

Thanks, khet.