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atrophied tumult Witnessed today.

projecting the soured human condition as an expression of dismay at the world utilized like a repellent toward others… technolo-hollow substitution or effigies to be burnt… as creatures who feast and harp upon the carcinogenic actions of others, we also assume to be anonymity among the anonymous without any intent of standing out in particular, but we also tend to raid the sleeping tomb to purge of its holy room for so many other souls to be laid there… the mummified dry gangrene of the nomatic tribes malnourished preferring to subject themselves to some kind of ridiculous amped-up amputee nation to deliver them from evils of the body and mind, the salted water washing over veins and the vane in their vanity to move the sins away onto the porous substance of the ground floor with all the employees waiting, but you have to stand around like any other retail job relying upon the patrons and their ungrateful mercies when the customer might even appear to be wrong… we are stigmatized into a dysfunctional lot to be thrown in with the other false gods trying to rub two nickels together to create change, loosely defined as the caged lunatics are set free then locked out to cull the herd that are left walking the streets too late at night though even night is no barrier to a real monster, but few ever get a chance to witness that atrocity up close without themselves being tragically snuffed out… we have homegrown film-born simulations of the actual thing, but the truth of the matter is always far stranger than the fiction interpreting the mixture in this place we are in, our lives becoming these entranced oblivious attempts at half-assery with a sophomore chivalry to boot it to the head instead of faking a mockery to the real live substance… we are kindred in hindsight, you and i, because we are sitting Here reading this inane banter for minutes at a time perhaps at first, but soon it just frightens me with all the intrinsic layers built into this contraption beheld before the eyes so they can see whatever Trojan whoreses mouth speaks the odd Grecian symbols that utilize the lies as they permeate and near bleed… fate has brought us together this day, and we must always celebrate the good fortune for our friendship which might count for more if you never knew me personally in one way or another, we must be this anonymous signature in the lost loads of datum too collected to separate easily… we work closer to a singularity and that is why it must exist to us, whether that requires the enlightenment of consciousness that most would perceive in culture today, but this but one arrowhead pointed in our direction solely because we are natural harbingers whether we might want it or not in these classic remains of the day before and after reality through our eyes… the holy stains pain our only minds in religious torture divine to be sure that divinity could occur at all through the human form or otherwise, but then how would one explain their very existence ever to be sure enough, the gilded wage pays enough for the artist to live on is only a fantasy among the living dead trying to cop a feel to grope the victim of a massively lucid illumination to see if they too believe in this fractured perspective landmarked by a permanent remainder of poverty the chamber or cell, and it locks down those who fall from grace in the prison of subjugated turds whose only purpose is to remain on the surface of the earth in order to easily be destroyed by debris from any cluster out there… a sense of many haunted vaulted vessels that scrape against this shoreline that melts like a surreal butter into the sea out into a sea foam divorce into the wilderness where none can reach you once you are gone… somehow that is the human idea of peace in rest…

Thanks, khet.