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the Caustic Gnostic

frozen sobs of the crying whose decisions are made for them in critical repetition excising an overtaxed system dry to the mention of produceable assets to prove worth truth as a means to try ending this unquenchable digestion, everything categorized and monitored until fruition of being is revealed in subtle infatuation with the way things work Here except when use has been purged and further reveals no more worth to be had with exception of the rebirth process, and this system does not yield in truly being the bad guy grinding its’ gears and cogs all along at us in the dark waiting to exit this ride like proof of fear at a carnival for the damned in stark black light affecting cold glowing walk down the dirty row… the automatic clowns just want your soul, as in they are selling you on spending your lives away daily as i am in day to day cursing what these reasons are too in abstract to list why this gift of shedding light and dark in an equal caliber grit, and it is the sounds echoing from reverberation between highest seat of power to the lowest common denominator that scare us into place for fear of supposed retaliation whether the excuse is deserved or not from these distracted wretches as they move from one state to another when passing over… showering us with ideas of golden glories made epic myths with which to try following for most of our lives in lies sinking in up to our fat heads until the stinking corpse floats ashore caught in the webbing and the exploiting nets of those frequently delving into the abyss for facts as gems, there are many systems of value to utilize when questing for spiritual truth as individual pursuits assembling to participate in the reconstitution of the human being between this fantastical analysis striving to objectify all subjects, and a proof of life as organic journey we all discover together as we can never understand how deeply the symbols channel through us resonating within the cosmos as thinnest vibration in a spacetime array materialized from the speculative science and filament strands connecting this life with the next as ultraquiot silent phase perhaps met by Harpocrates with the face of Horus a psychopomp of circumstance that leaves the traveler wandering further for reasons to carry the burden and question the whole a little more than was figured as truth…

Thanks, khet.