All The Wrong Topics dot com

Words from our sponsors.

the world is on fire tonight… in various odd locations that i do not have access to right now… a sense of relief or respite as the pause in sensory overload stretches out over minutes, though, relentless still through the commercial atrophy of mind… fighting an urge that will not release the daily denizen of a world where there is privilege for televised leadership we are informed that we have in office, but where is the accurate decision-making skill that survival requires to get through to another life time, where is that entity whose only wish is in rendering the pig flesh our culture calls civil or moral?… it floats as all dead gods, in the dark abyssal sea behind gravity, where time slows to an internal eternity… the macrocosm reveals the inner detail behind the translucent solar skin… as the forensic engineering of our analytical pondering reveals a so-called ‘enlightenment’, but one externalized like the proboscis of the metaphysical animal, its curiosity eating and digesting huge lump sums of culturally-stimulating information… assimilating it into crucial chunks from out of the depths of a nowhere we can only dream about from Here, to refashion them into a concrete reality, but the manipulating class do their damnedest to press the hive mind density back into a supposed lower class as it gets closer to freeing itself from that particular bondage… the flavor of the suffering grows denser as the time limit shortens toward that deeper expression of revolution to come back around again… where have we heard that sound before, calling out and ringing loudly, but when will various empires of the world dismiss that division of the world into Firsts and Thirds when all parts working together should really matter in creating the Whole World?… is there any working exception to this issue?… so we stick ourselves into odd states where the whirlwind strikes us down, but there would be no other choice than to get back up from that floored impression, as the background chatter fills in even that space… the capsules chosen from that early launching place where comfort replaces distaste, a narrowing, harrowing rite of passage throwing us into the unforeseen digression from childhood’s early package deal… the subliminal mistake that might take decades to waste the rest of life to dust and those chiming scattered winds, though it would be anyone’s guess whether as a species we could ever get away from the righteous segregation enough to reassemble into a unified plan to escape, and to put forth the effort required to create a hole in this oft-looping cultural field… where the range of the everlasting becomes complete, or at least as it might seem from the surface, the interpretations always get fuzzy from this distance…

Thanks, khet.