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What Next?

today, is a reckless impression, youth and everything vapid or distressing about the way things work Here with our mechanical techniques freaking out the locals in the isolated warmth away from prying eyes devising means to alleviate naive types of a privacy from within their overgrown locales… we traverse the wilderness with barely an inner eye open to see where we are going as the trail blazes off out from under the feet of those who are unwary to the inherent dangers of change, the ground beneath our sturdy standing shakes and quakes in a bid to perhaps move us into some place as vulnerable as the soil in our hearts as it startles into a new age with the same round of days to look forward to, but these moments are not the grains of sand as one was staring at through the glass before getting Here without a moment to spare when as the clamoring hordes reach that ill-fated precipice it becomes too late to keep from falling… the momentum from this haste of mob mentality that strikes distaste in those mouths caught screaming on the way down as though they could not have ever fathomed a force to pull them over the edge into an ablyss (blissful nothing; the bliss attained by ignorance) from which no one can be torn back from whole because of the ever-involving nature of this swirling locomotion… a warp of either time or space or in the curious consciousness between which inhabits imagination to transmit these messages onto imprinted neural pathways driving home neither hint nor clue, but action in excess as it tries to envelope the singular messy antics of humanity into useful symbols in the hopes that soon systemic assimilation sweeps in absorbing all the information and knowledge intoned throughout this strange world beyond a conscious range of filth or clean, a dichotomous dictatorship ruled by subtextual signs as they scramble to become these conscious things in order to now manipulate further the gauges between false and true by experiencing all sides of the argument perhaps to solidly justify its’ existence… the real is cut down by a faith in what is false, as net of safety perhaps through cultural negative reinforcement of struggle and suffering as one, and meaning to relieve this harsh cruelty as powerful catharsis-covered insanity as discorporate intangible veil opening…

Thanks, khet.