tricky is the wish of the person who makes things happen, using and
abusing others kind qualities to make their own plans work… the leaders
do not lead a cause, they subjugate it to their will, and bring
authority where there was only a natural balance previously… the
disgraceful memes layered inside the head makes me feel particularly
sick, but to speak as though i am chained to this environment around me
is a cowardly thing to feel, because it is all in my hands to do with
what i will to be… my words merely condense this struggle with imbalance
as i experience every last detail… whether it appears written or sits
on the surface of thought until it is done, and becomes ready to be
spoken aloud by someone… getting locked into a sure and organic way of
processing the information as it sweeps right through me… the sucking
whole that responsibility has made me… a good person beyond the germ of
judgment implanted in my chest, the metaphysical data just below the
heart, and on fire with the friction of every day as the dynamo spins…
propaganda urges pushing and tempting the people to terrorize themselves
by their own hands, stalking a populace made for management and manual
labor, and the hooves of the devilry ruling with cackling madness
simulation of royalty… compulsion of derision for the under classed and
downtrodden as they spray into the streets for a fix of the good life,
but to each unique required step to reach the dream, there are many who
would wish to see the other plummet to their death… there is never quite
so complete an ending to any life, but how many of us held captive
really live through this thing called ‘existence’?… i would wager only a
few can be truly worthy, for whatever that might mean to you, and this
is because of the influences that all seem to just randomly come
together in the shallows of this wading pool… some shallow impulses and
others are dragons curled up in the bellies of the populace waiting to
strike out, these energies reach a meltdown level if relief is contained
away from the conscious mind, and there can only be explosions if there
is never a release for these energies go into reverse after awhile of
being trapped by the monotone of treacherous comforts… the distorted
analysis from a mind’s eye view of stagnant disease, this crawling
anxiety that gets pawned off onto me through the mutual weapons of shame
and guilt, but can concentrate at the neck-jerking pace of haste so
common to the custom today… of man misleading humanity as a whole, the
rise to the supposed top of the heap, but all there ever was is the
feeling for wanting a place… whether in the dirt or the architecture of
this structure we call ‘home’, we consistently seek out the wages of
“sin” to give us comfort, and this all plays right into the money trap
as well… have currency, will travel, but to seek fortune without
financial interest is the uncommon… some fiends feed on/ gain more
information from negative stimulation, and most of the opposite kind
derive energy from the positive influx of situations, there are as many
different ways as there are people to perceive and regain these basic
needs… are we just one giant pinball surging through the machine
altogether as one whether we have a vested interest in the direction or
not, or does the energy used come kinetic from the interactions between
the one, and that multitude so large as to be considered an emptiness?… a
holy schematic of flesh overlaying the enduring adaptability of the
human soul, ideally aware of both surroundings and mood at the same time
as the individual opinion is defined by a conscious thoughtfulness, but
carved also by forces beyond a personal capacity to arrange directly in
the ebb and flow of tangible shift… as the nails go in, after the lid
has been shut down tight, think of this and Here is my voice…
