All The Wrong Topics dot com

to Pair the oddities…

whether satire tired and bored with being serious taken to the heights of exalted artistic merit that gets us pumped from the heat of humor fiery like poured gasoline burning the brain inside overwhelmed on dualism is there perceived by the eyes and the deeds used to exploit some of the dirtiest movements laid bare if anyone can act offensively with due diligence and thoughtful tracking of details as the butt end of a bad joke sided to poke fun at the misery we all feel this twisting in the wind a carcass full of suffering stuttering jests taken in relentless vestments to disguise the truth in one’s actions, to be open to all sources of a funny is an enduring trait one that others might assume is too nasty or tacky in their serious states as they accept another rancid burden under their breath while they cannot seem to contain these complaints as it all bottles itself insidiously hidden under a smiling vision perhaps as though a kind of preacher asking forgiveness in the belief of divine faith that overrides the stains made by human creatures taking shape in the waste, but the hammer strikes with the scythe rendering this discussion mute as much moot to their vacillations vivisecting inside the ruling class of their awful elitist dreams and glory casting others about like rag dolls to distort and harm without a retaliation vexing sting to keep those parties in a perpetual swing as to stop it all would kill the illusion which remains like a halo over our heads collected together Here my friends sharp as small jagged thorns stick and sacrifice the losers to honest whimsy… what is it to be regarded as simply divine or as legendary by those once considered peers pressurized to this state of The Art Of (TAO) the way that builds us up into these people restless for vengeance and victory stating the obvious when we are the ones killing in the name of whether as nationalist furies whose lust for power knows no bounds as chaos binds us in disordered shells swelling with pride at this repugnant source of this life, but depressed as in subservient to this breeding machine that urges us forward kicking against the pricks as we skip to continue to better things in the selfish light lit for those accents on the affirmative when wanting of any and all things as objectionable actions collect to submerge us deep in our own shit detail while waiting for something to free us up long enough to crave reality working correctly dissecting moments, until a decisive clarity that filters us through as yet another gloom as darkened room barely dim as the darkness caves in a bit to close off another avenue of direction held up to the last second like a belch savored to reek the rewards a tad toward the grotesque as in a monster created by our struggles to really attend to becoming an actual human even if that means having to get our hands dirty when taken to task as if a reality matters to us at all Here as urgent agency moving heavily through the cosmos with guns and ammunition…

Thanks, khet.