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slacker of Fortune

the nespots (nepotistic despots) have long taken over and built our world on the backs of those minor people whose labor really goes into fashioning of this a well-dog-eared version as discord-theque of most torturous portions as libations and defenestrations eat at our subconscious wielding madness to strike out at the sinister offenders taking us for granted as lords and ladies whose shit-stained lips pucker autonomically at the merest sign or whiff of superiority that makes their mouths water, passing around the incest like it were a taboo of the gods to create a perfected breed of human being who would never back down from becoming a pseudo-authority claiming power like all the rest Here even though their families possess killer instinct transmogrified into a killer opportunism that has plagued and eschewed the modern occulture since a hold on power has been an “in” theme used to intimidate those retarded of the cunning to command a respect from their peers and enemies, but what of the disaffected and disenfranchised those who are quickly becoming the majority in these gathered states of ours turning into days months and years all to the jeering privileged who choose to leap into this pit of calamity to waste out of glad-handed approaches to a looking good though as far as doing actual good there is little obvious evidence to reveal this as truth even if the outside near screams to be heard ‘look at me… i am a champion of the people!!!’ reaping the rewards only left for others’ splendor to gain more and more as our financial obesity continues to hoard and try controlling these few returns that some people have instead of roaring back to eat the fat of the land and undermining a civil approach to upbringing this system and the children within it toward anything closer to a higher plateau whether riches in wealth or honor makes no difference to those selfish knights of a shadow of whose intent no one is certain, but these are words written for you to see though not as a voice brought back to life from the dead souls now long lost detritus whose caustic breeze causes disease of the mind and the eyes and other senses locked into orifices in whose reach is limited by tragic obstacles that keep us ever under the close watchful devices that would soon assume to clear out all wonder and amazement for the gesture of journey as learned from the televised signals as opposed to any sensory interaction worth digging, dragons are trapped under the ice a glassy stare gloomy barreling through those surface impressions uniquely unaware as a soul is laid bare by the make-ready tactics of authoritarian dramas collected via this virtual reality soon selling on doubt but without substantial compensation for all the stress and complications loosed down from a gallows such as denial or anxiety to leave us hanging by our own slack that troubles us with any honest hassling delights as we forego the politeness of being to take back a primal edge of instinct now mostly lost to those raised sheltered as new modern domestication adapts to the new forms of humanity deriving itself from a swamp of genetic material and evolutionary up-steps…

Thanks, khet.