stress, the implement, the tool… the motivated fool that trots along
merrily as the work duties are shed unto the next hapless drone mocking
unlimited potential yet again… apologetic ghosts that sing out sorrows
losing out to the full-throttle morals that deliver us from evil…
plodding with what condemned fortitude that only a hell-fire furnace can
create… we summon the demons that taint our dark sideways glances,
lacking any real forethought to the unmentionables, and dirtying those
unclean and defective wholes… bringing the second guess like a
cannibalistic observer devouring that haunted siren song of the
harbinger, the weakest among us flock toward the incredulous, and
energies kept tossed to be put away… muddled vicissitudes of the
vengeful and condemnable, hunting for a seeker’s day to ignite the
fires, informing the cowards to run away to spread their miseries
elsewhere… the masquerade swirls with half-garbled words and gestures
behind the masks with the pleasant appearances, the noxious laughter
fills the head between the ears, and does not relent with its vapid
intrusion… for wont of the better plaything, the cannibals corpse is
tossed aside like the rest of the wretch, chucked-up from the backside
down the slope of kind harshness that seems to be permitted… an insult
to harmony, the dissonance sparks outrage, and the energy becomes
kinetic once again…
Thanks, khet.
