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...
