ages have passed since we came to understand anything true that was not
just some other regurgitation, a “new” tangent on which so much without
necessity rests, and frail board breaks as there are more to walk the
plank overboard and off the ship… the tripping off the short pier mode
of awareness, i see… where are the pirates and radicals i thought were
real and valid, visceral things?… the mad little experimental souls that
wield wisdom at the end of their spears?… the true natives of this
laughter inherited by the mindless massive pull which the public
displays like the bloody huge penis, bloated and warped by the swelling
inside of its loins, and the pants too tight to fit quite right somehow…
the countenance of the missive-brained individual i picture gripping
the pillow in fright, the sweat cold and burrowing into the flesh as the
bed grows damp, and the teeth grind more and more despite the gravity
of reasons to do otherwise… lonely beyond the path where righteous souls
swagger...
