All The Wrong Topics dot com

the day the internet died…

the doomsday clock hung in a corner by the lone solemn chair standing by the window, tickling echo was resonating a bit too loudly for the occupant of this minimal room in which the clock was kept out of the reach of our common hands, but he had to stay Here to minimize all the damage done when this odd clock did strike ‘one’ finally launching the place into a reckless fit of chaos and havoc and dementia as we access the data in moving out and spinning once again to keep some out while the others were trapped within for crazy-making lengths of time… it was this game that drove most of the surviving residents forward as distorted urges becoming mad from all of the pain and pressure that seems to come to those that suffer in realms where animal domination is the impulse for most of the imperial hordes throwing their lives over the edge of a cliff for material gain, or to crush the opposition who sit idly by abusing their positions of power to confuse and to lie on purpose to distract and deter from those successive truths bequeathed via lines of tradition followed to the letter in exactitude and maintaining both replication and repetition of these rites in particular under superstitious constraints as conflicted between an antagonistic faith and untethered curiosity in evolving from these electro-magnetic states to a greater understanding beyond mere flesh, coming home to that Other within ourselves that somehow separates from us when we reach all these new spiritual plateaus as each a different set of rules and rhythms to adapt and to metadapt (cellular adaptation) to as well when everything seems at odds before the evens… the rules can collapse just like the body in moments of deterioration collaborating to the mosaic we call ‘history’ maybe a bit too frequently nasty in the collective cesspool of a tragedy sadly pronouncing most of us ‘doomed’ prior to being born where the acceptance is limited by human ignorance as it envelopes this consciousness by degrees we can only wait for as we shape current reality to our choosing whatever that may be for each of us, electron or proton or neutron in this made-up dimensional abyss that our energies inspire without our consent most of the time whether we follow the rules or not makes no difference though it describes what kind of person we are in the long run abusing freedoms of choice by excusing our behavior when no motions are made to be compassionate for others’ actions even though we are stuck in the tank Here together meanwhile observing and subjectively serving the powers-that-be in these incarnate forms while thinking as much as acting and to worrying about the moves after the emotional facts, and this is what we are when we get lost on the journey to find ourselves instead of those old roads most traveled inside of this organic chemistry as a body tries to approach that solemn floor with the clock and computer screen grinding away at blank symbols…

Thanks, khet.