All The Wrong Topics dot com

a wasted luxury…

the mechanical void wants to eat us to digest all of our acquired traits assimilating the humanity of feelings to utilize as predictable laymen domesticated into place to continue this system as a broken parasitic sickness warping our thoughts and our souls as we each meet the needs deemed our own weights to bear in this wading cesspool of sexual frustration and financial extremes wishing to a god we could in some way float beyond this karmic anchor embedded in the sea of soul-err powers-that-be, why to be in Here inasmuch anywhere else deemed appropriate as we continue to define a need for these as trivial acceptances worthwhile missions individual perspectives trained to explain ourselves as a much needed valve to release the pressures of a daily existence even as a pressure tugs at us in depths of madness and clarity we have inflicted upon each other as easy and random as our dismay directed to the Others in whose defiant behavior we are enthralled while severely-judging in all this time local vague rats unworthy of hostile let alone any kind of real humane interaction between the beasts we are and those we choose to be, and as holier than thou to possess these instincts as well as these experiences which bias and offend becoming catalyst to the social drama reset to start again whether a daytime epic that fuses a working life inside of a contingent myth as lengths of linear time frame the mind striving to advance beyond these oft-contemptible ages as an immortality craved by those oblivious eyes and devout minds of a paranoid being snuffed out at a moment’s peace as a preparation for the end as penultimate goal to surviving this cosmic shank in the spine used as a demon logic of an imperial swine song sung along to with ignorant obnoxious wails… to try on this imbibing mind worn to intoxicate our senses in decadent infinite swirls lost to the train-wrecked of thought sought after for sage advice and wisdom so unlike a vapid kingdom of wastrels and foppish antiques walking the streets in tight leathers and plastics shaped to a fit that only a taste for sex fetishism seems to approve of these days, distract to ‘kHarmic’ (harm from the karmic) misdirection this ‘schizophrenetic’ (characterizes people being in states of emotional aloofness, solitary habits, while also being fast and energetic in a rather wild and uncontrolled way) statement of the soul that wants to escape these material constraints before us ever fading into the greater wilderness of the out there we might call ‘timESPace’ trying to direct us covertly through the active agents and passive urgents of change that stain our reality imperfect, but this does not mean a total loss of the hope that can translate into a better both individually and to the general civilized massive ticking away as hands on a clock whose cosmic timing remains an eternal Mystery within layers compressed into dense forms that break jaws loose on into endless speculations…

Thanks, khet.