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where is the authority?

in a desolate and cruel world when is it that we finally need to realize to think for ourselves when sheltered from the eye of the storm, when the actions necessary to function are more than words of desire, and when are these thoughts a system of gain instead of betrayal to the inner idealized self? the corruption of purity is inflicted from every direction, and we are but humble slaves to the function of the circuit we reside within. filling out the appropriate paperwork to desecrate and dissect our feelings into sheer oblivion touched by the hand of god. moments of the dull seem to overlay moments of passionate forays into obscurity. the whims of warriors castrate with the efficiency of a well-hung jury, second-guessing the motives of all suspicious behaviours of unknown origin, and collapsing systems of unwarranted appeal. the thoughts span precious times left laid to waste under the authority of a forgotten force of memory, and fearfully few can handle that reserved knowledge at once. it drips and leaks from sources of little consequence it seems, and finds the information rehashed before the staid glances of baffled onlookers there on the grounds of real time investiture. at all times there is a priority to stand firm in the face of enthusiastic sycophants, and the urge to defend the right of being against the forces that do injustice to the mental state of those around them. sometimes there are no defences to tolerate the dysfunction of a handful of the few that choose such dastardly vocation as to defy the logic of feeling and humanity that permeate this sphere. where do we abort this caustic cosmic thing that presents itself to us on the platter of self-sacrifice? and is it really worthy of the troubles that it would take to stop it in the middle of its predestination with our choices? we are all conjoined with the fate of this beast we have raised from the depths, and yet we neglect to see it for what it really could be, lurking in our midst. unaware we suppress our innate selves and allow the energies to be diverted towards the power-hungry madness that bleeds through the psyche. culture defines this mad beast like a cloak in the darkness that allows it to sneak in upon us when we are at our most vulnerable. as the monsters still seem to stalk us all for their private gains. the whirling void accepts us like cheap used goods, all at once or one at a time, we are made to feel as though there are no options left until we are far past the door of opportunity. where can we find ourselves once we get to that stopping point? is there a point there? what words we have to repeat these fears with, to recycle them to the next generations of being born under the thumb of mediocrity, and to mimic the feelings of those projected out onto the screens in every home. where can the madness compromise with the ordered rationality in these extreme times eternal?

Thanks, khet.