So I stepped into these pants merely by accident, but the way there
was through the network of humans disguised as stick figures… Trapped
into a need to free oneself through the truth of violent regression… Is
that madness?… We speak so highly of others that sometimes the
confidence of self can grow drastically weaker by comparison… The gates
sometimes close to the resistance of the narrowed perspective into
darkness of oblivion touching them… Ideas manifest randomly to keep the
thought structure afloat, trying to break the surface of the deep and
cold plunge into innovation’s pathways, and the deeper one goes the
darker it seems to be that one has to crawl through in order to reveal
more of path in hindsight… Very few of us have the headlights blinking
able to see through the pitch-black shit ahead of our destinies, but
those that do can take for granted their gift so easily, as hindsight is
equally twenty/20 for us all… There is no banishment from this
experiential foreground, the humor is well within reach, but how many
will dare to hold its white-hot flames?… The thrashing jerk and pull of
trying to loosen the excrement from its throne as ruler over the
ignorant horde, massive and impeccable, but still rather stupid about
each others notions of right and wrong… So then there stands the
misanthrope… The womb is rusted shut, but learns much playing the
ancient man’s games… Divide and conquer… One of the horsemen laughs in
tone with these childish, messy antics… Messianic, manic and
prolific….protean and malnutrious of mind… Where are these dark forces
that so much propaganda has built up in the collective consciousness
like a goliath?… The fear lies no where but within the heart of each
pawn it strikes down… Cast off the castrated panic, and fear nothing
until you own demise has been met, the horse and rider are one..
Thanks, khet.
Thanks, khet.
