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we are such douches…

convincing ourselves that we can be nicer to people even when the subtle fascist trend speaks polite kindness as much a mask of preventing others from seeing our ulterior motives sometimes those internal mechanisms we are not aware of clockwork twitches moving the spastic frame into places it perhaps would not have dared otherwise without consciousness in this efficient functional reality grinding along, ticking out measured moments on as man-made a face as no one adores watching the flickering hands displace slow hours into waste that chills the bones because the time slips away in the shortest increments that no one stops to appreciate except occasionally me and those handful of others lurking behind the sealed off screen door to the digital floor, and ‘ding!’ Here we are in the last place you’d expect from the shallow ways of Mankind whose kindness seems either harsh or cruel to inhibit a casual growth of rebellious youth from cropping up again and again by some stroke of fate or worse creating disdain in the air we breathe to sate that autonomous reflexion rate flipping us out for whatever even something as neurotic as being too late to your own funeral for god’s sake what a defeated tribulation… regal in our pursuits of the finer things in life despite the yearning for a greater truth by some who have feeling in their guts who choose not to deny the self screaming back at them in the mirror as we stare and shift our motions from one side to the other hasty in our need to win esteem and regard from a bunch of hacks who cut the mustard with a spoon to stir it up, the collective groupie we have become in our urge to finding a home among the chosen people we know who come to actually enjoy some distinct part of ourselves that may not be right though it has perks attached as a reason of many to enjoy this life while you have it because for all you know this might be the last stop on your carpet ride before reaching a blank void, or your choice of a multitude of ideas and concepts of an afterlife where nothing happens personally from returning to the godhead made real by all of these layers to whose destinations remain unknown unless you were to include the third eye image embedded into your mind of what this future could look or feel like beyond dreams we perceive in hazy recollections that could blur and deceive the lines we draw to protect ourselves from random debris caught in our whirlwind effect enveloping the world for all it is worth… could we ever witness the future without such blinded eyes to see?…

Thanks, khet.