All The Wrong Topics dot com

subliminal Waste.

i make her into a monster, throwing everything out the window metaphorically, but hitting me with flying objects literally enough to scare me into convulsions of snot and tears… i am a child of innocence as i see the progress of it changing to the woe of ignorance in these modern ages of the human machine, and this innocent mode disguised as a trick to pull the emotive wool over our eyes as we are all lead astray by the forceful people that have been indoctrinated to trust without one question… questioning means thinking over the whole untenable situation, and finding the holes in what was previously considered a seamless series of relative concepts at motion, we treat each other as though we were all disposable beasts of burden that can be misled by those taskmasters with the access to predefined power over us whom others might consider “chosen” for the task or mission… however, our pure resistance to the exploitation is not the only consistent piece of affliction that we seem to commiserate around a campfire heat at night, and everything appears hunky-dory when the break of dawn comes to enlighten the masses again from east to west as another revolution winds ’round and under our cultural belt… the mishap is that we trust implicitly that weaver at work on the cosmic tapestry, and what if we are a nanotechnology from another eon going deeper (through astral, etheric and material layers) as we ride the rest of that silver thread down into the pits of hell and back, as though a floating and dynamic bungee yo-yo fluctuating information along its route as carrier accelerating evenly between opposing realms as in a grand array of all dichotomies at once… a great metaphysical switch board perhaps?… a superior collection somewhere of all components required to devise an instantaneous alchemy saturating the subcutaneous levels of the living being experience with no question whether the mental or physical is the active target in this experimental situation because all sources pour forth into the creative vessel that stands Here among the other human agents of change, and though the wiring within short circuits and glitches quite often among some of the more eccentric of authorities as focus and change are coordinated by very different systems, it is still this proclivity towards the organized body of work that we approach the engine of ritual experience… the distortion shows briefly at first so as not to scare the locals out of their minds like some Lovecraft spawned chthonic dream that curls and swirls itself around the imaginative sieve, that filtration system in use by this human brain to sort out the images vague and vast from that epic poetry derived from those past experienced states in which we are dealing with reality always now upon some cosmic circuit lost, but found to have the power within ourselves to wrench the whole insincere works from out of this nowhere stuff we have gotten used to being immersed above our heads… the unknown are discrepancies waiting to happen all jumbled and non-particular as yet, formed but no opinion has latched onto it through the less-reinforced censure of gesture most impolite people make at attempt for defensive postures, or there is no interaction but petty regretted non-actions left locked up inside those third eye projections replaying back and forth like yesterday’s graced us reminiscent nostalgia of days enmeshed with the markedly misty memories from a recollection cashed… no way to stop the beast, but to accept it for what it is finding the useful qualities it has to put those simple things to benefit the better traits through energy transferal to a portion of myself that can regard those tentative opinions with maturity, not everyone can be right even though everyone is right to a certain extent unheard of until the appropriate timing is mastered not necessarily in this personality i can see now… the human state of being is a precarious and sketchy thing that cannot be pegged down to one individual quality, it is truly all of them at once at any one time that keeps this living creature of beings jolting along, but we are not now one hundred percent oblivious to what we are capable of either as we have been more than willing to be in the childhood spaces of lessons and role models less respected…

Thanks, khet.