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we are the Eloi

sensitive to the trails end tribulations toward a wilderness left from the structured an ascent to the stars to scar the heavens with heathen atrocity forcing human bodies through the portal organic cutting static reality like lips waking from a knife scraping into the skin, of a softer substance still and precious while under the watchful eye of a parent or caretaker even if under illusion of human can be projected like a mask in the eyes and minds of those untrusted, and unknown people who filter throughout life’s endless doorways both demanding and describing circumstance as macabre sway to which we all dance and obey like truth played against us like odds stacked high to crucify those not aware of the method by which a subjective daily madness wins… a snide structure imposed as it is imparted upon others as wisdom in a kingdom of fools striking out in ways that mocks and belittles a response ability welled within a human carapace having sticky insides warm to the touch when first opening up about being human who wins the acceptance of unwitting youth turned human vegetables when no one other breaks free from banal approval, the conscious chains acknowledged as brutal and awake separating the lot of us from ever connecting like we would wish from stories and of myth to which the mind seems to link information together in these fascinating loop patterns that churn out the loot from weak and sensitive hands that scrape, and the vast diversity of vicious viscous creatures throwing themselves out of the womb by the droves as the fires of creation send those roiling and boiling mutating masses out to inflict the world with their juices and carnal curiosities as living expands our fears beyond our heads creating obstacles in our path… again we come to hurt feeling a slow droning monotonous with the chained distorting a collective vision of change as we would wish to see and believe is truth into this oppressive horizon setting sons against mothers and daughters against fathers forever obscuring whatever it is that feels worthy of this effort and attention to detail, consuming and observing as though a truly objective view subterranean and hidden away, but digesting all the debris a taste of that which filters through all of us at once urging us to obey inasmuch to say never or no to that voice so distinctly forcing the individual to submit to horrors Here discovering what buried treasures lie beneath that which appears projected as the individual…

Thanks, khet.