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castrating Uranus.

when there is a problem, you can’t come to Here for resolution, and all the yahoos will twist your panties in a bunch for sure… footing is weak when pursuit of the objective is rendered a confusing flush of bodily fluids and repetition… the hounds of celebrity eat their shares and more just to keep us general people from being filled in on all the real things in life… we don’t need money, but we are forced to work within a system weaving back and forth in its death throes, as it staggers on its haunches trying to fathom the open wound where a phallic symbol once stood… the general public is electric with the energy of this coming revolt age, surging by the thousands to spill into the streets of every location where the false needs to be torn away from the niche of currency being suckled at by the lecherous fiends we democratize into office, but we are all fooled by the human disguise that the beastly minions wear to further impose their will on society… whether it is through the royal highness evoked through mystical militant inbreeding among the titanic forceful hands of political power, or through political machinations clogged and wrenched through the gears and cogs that build the corporeal structure indifferently, the modern day titan crawling the surface for more consumption of every and any resource required to make dreams happen… this creature we have built is semi-conscious, and made from the transfixed gazes and judgmental twitching of the solipsistic society that fairly tingles from the self-abuse we have infringed upon to meet the needs of a necessary more somehow made real, the next phase seems as though it might actually be the feces-eating stage where anything goes… the ouroboros swallowing its own tail, an optical illusion from only one direction easily seems overwhelming to the viewer, but this is not defeat that the child of nature needs to fear out of animal discomfort… the filthy rotted thing that we have embraced reflects our face on its brain, the glowing chrome featureless visage that takes for granted our very being reinforcing its own twisted implications, and always considered the realm of cthonic entities outer god something outside of ourselves… the alien outsider to compliment the security of our choice to live in commune with the rest of the world, where is justice when there aren’t any people suffering, but too many liars just wait to state the obvious to the yet still infantile massive… the charitable psycho pomp of circumstance prance after having the junk severed by sharpened razor wit, the filth and funk start to show, but there is never a button to turn back attacks of nondescript ‘what?’ from your general direction… we all take a place as the steps to this graceful withered bitter way to dreams made real, swallowing all this knowledge and praying that the digestion doesn’t reverse the movement of these new world titans, and we are the modern Olympians that need to take care of the generations of waste properly… these ‘somehow we need’ speeches don’t make the difference but action, real and earnest to the fault of any other epic belief, and with the will and focus that these “gods” will require in the evermore modern future… like stars incarnated within this human flesh like the rest of us, an incendiary soul burning from the inside, and with highfalutin conspiratorial voices the natural backdrop in the halls and shadows in our hallowed chambers of capital power echoing about like a haunted vapor… it is not so silly to think that corruption is never too much farther than a foot from those that hold public opinion in their sway, the beginning of this revolted swing in power and potency starts with locating the root of this narcissistic disease before bleeding out the phallic symbolic weighted with shallow wallowing in badly-worded wretch, and we just take out the metaphorical sickle and cut the sky as the golden age tarnishes and decays… ruined by the superimposing of rules and laws upon the people born with the drive to rebel, to usurp the powers-that-be in order to take the place of the ruling class, but the unconscious pulse of our ancestors breeds deeply through us as we ourselves digest and devour… the mass hysteria eats our brains as we are left trying to make sense of the trends, and the context drys the soft wet tissue that thought requires of us, the materialism of synaptic response allowing us to follow the cravings for cramped trips to another yeast and treats that will retard and sedate our sense of self… harvesting the right time to ride the waves of change, the saturnalia is over with heralding the dawn of another one entirely different, and the celebration is something they want us to never realize in order to retain their foothold on positions highly coveted to push political maneuvering to taut conclusions… the halls of power have tried to suppress the will of the people, by only allowing certain times of the year to be outright celebrations for all, but for those without the need to be suppressed by the masses there is no option but revolt Here…

Thanks, khet.