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I get so very tired of being a lone voice, as the madness stirs deep interests, but what words are left in this sloppy, inefficient sponge of a mind. comprehending depth is not so difficult when lost in the founding well, and abstract thought riddles the bones like the chaos of a hurricane. the sledgehammer has worked itself into the wall, as the swinger became disaffected with the trajectory of the blunt object, and let go far too soon to realize the aim of the destructive pummel. that, my friends, is the gravity of this thing on my shoulders. sometimes a weight far too unbearable alone, and at times, the only burden to seek without comfort of contact. the general obligation grows too invasive for my preponderances at this time. my point is simply this, that I need more literate minds to spread their words around like messy finger paints, and not be ashamed of these manifestations of excess. like the foam of the ocean, with few other equivalents, and this action expels the wasted material of the solid waves. whatever has been picked-up at the edges of utility that overflows as a by-product of consciousness. self-condemnation is not the goal, merely a freedom of thought, and to expel the crass implements that do not serve my mind moving in practical function. the brain is a far less organized vehicle than the salesperson said the ride would be. that doesn’t mean that I have to be the only person Here, right? it seems, though, that too few are like myself in my courage to put sheer stupidity on the line. even comments by others than myself are too few and far between, and registering is free as far as I have known this entire time. why so humble are all of you? do you have to be so bored to death to write down any thoughts at all? personal opinion might be what you lack, however, but I choose to disagree and repel this mantis mantra to savor solely the self. the ego is not that great, but neither is any other part standing alone, a chunk that we dissect into exacting objective stances. declaring the label to be individual and opinionated, when it really happens to be recycled gibberish, and then it is taken to be so literal that opposite meanings are derived from this matter. thoughts float, and by god, we all float down Here. sight and interpretation are just as linked as sound and the skill to define a world of one’s own. the vision must always be unique to quantify any proposed aspect of the universal unbound. I surely can’t be the only person Here, but I am truly the only friend I have Here. humanity is my nemesis in the real world, but the instinct I have to filter through to understand what is inside of me is that only lens of humanity. you people make me sick and tired of revealing the pain and trash taking up residence in my feelings and day-to-day life. my torments are the entertainment in this roadshow, I see, but I am not deterred from my ends. to present this chaotic true self that lies just at the surface of the Here and Now, and capture the glimpse into this steady thinking force in abundance all around us. giving a channel to all of the shattering images underneath the lid of the summons of the real. the mind is really crackling with the purest energy ever, a core with a transient potential, and the ability to make incarnate the ideas of life and death at all. condemning ye who forsake me as a plummet to your amusement. fancy yourselves executioners on the microscopic and compulsory level. particles from your gazes, and related mentalities that are scanned through the projection of information, wreak havoc upon the ooze dripping from my words that I claim as mine. you thrash the world you see, and use up the dust that is in the wake, caught in the wakened eyes of sleepers whose turn it is to control the destiny. the density of the real is subject to the whims of corrupted desire, and with a sense of real urgency. you obviously choose not to describe your ideas in any great detail, even if they are just gibberish on a stick, and you take something away from the release as a kind of catharsis for your soul. you flock of dirty souls, you. can you not desire for more?

Thanks, khet.