All The Wrong Topics dot com

the pharaoh moans…

distracted by the historical hysteria as the content remains discontented by these humans handling of the affairs as means to shift the rules in which they find themselves imperious to cancel our subscription to a lifestyle permeated with vengeance and random acts of violence whirling those swirled faces into those fecally-feigned attitudes fined for the time spent loitering in this idealism straight from an edging of wholesome which overlaps and intrudes upon our idea of politeness mixed-up with genteel suppression opposing questions, we talk and share the stories that thrust a weight into our living belief as it crosses the tiniest threshold which our soul enters free of this forming that was born into this casual surface decided by those great general established quotas whose status quo requires us to uphold the proof that this system works while mystery drops out of this mapping as we create it absorbing this virtual reality as it stings and it hangs in the err sometimes provoking our reactions as it wishes autonomously like a body, but when it comes to rulership there is no measurement for this vessel expressly exceptional toting silver lines as thread at time like a cosmic harp imagining our lives inside of this puzzle that looks like us from the outside even though there are many aspects unrealized within this timeframe in novelty of the Now as potential gift for the present to be presented upon the right sequence of events in the pyramid scheme… a gentle dream we might wish were the case but it is not for us to deserve as our biased morals have declared us as sheep or victims perpetually taken along for a ride where we stop and nobody knows what a price we have paid to get Here as things never are what they seem as truly proceeding point by point along this scale as the spectrum grows and gathers momentum separating liberation and containment from the source of our worries to assuage our guilty blaming as sewn like seeds as much like the fabric of the cosmic substance standing-in for the extras waiting around for something big to happen, leader of the pack of natural forces managing the essence of humanity shaping it like a sculptor with stone or clay in that creative focus though only if humbled by the curious predicament of this life weary of the intrusion made by these creatures pouring through the gates toward glory as searching as herd hived and writhing serpents unrepentant swerving and weaving treading softly without the feet to assert the sound of stomps scaring off the traffic of animals as we are oppressed, and the shades of change have been upon our eyes for ages as we devour and deflower the youth code with bits and bytes of digital assaulting spread on wounds already taken for granted by the human disease cyst emetic infection as the distraction sets in hopes for what may appear melancholy but is the will of the people manifesting in each individual striding bewildered and layered throughout the coming and going of decades…

Thanks, khet.