The Precipice

 

I have to come to write about the wickedness of this world, about these flesh eating, blood sucking demons who leash off of others to prove a petty panentheism. make us to lackey unto the chains of religion and sanctimonious servitude, to serve the hierarchy of the iron cage of capitalism, mine our loosh, retard and stagnate us so that they can mine the ore of destinies for another duplex, another car, another used condom on the bed.

they hoard their loot, eat all and still bath with the rotting remnants, morph us into time wasting prostitutes with the onus of a ride up to a hyper-gamy of puppy eyed eye’s services, this atavistic convolutedness, this atomic combustible we call an existence that snap bones like twigs for fun. in a never ending whack a mole, used to the point of inure, the jewels are finally handed out to our corpses, never tethering past enthusiasm with ardor.

mere we, should lie in wait like the tortoise and wait for death? their god, the peddler of this inequality, eater of hope find himself with a bludgeoning enterprise on his hand but who dare challenges him? reality had better watch out for the energy it saps- as eyes droop, and neck slouches, the tug won’t be fanciful for long. sloughed out dopamine steams with a reality so bleak, you only have hope as the continuant, which can be snuffed like candled flame- commit suicide! 

For at the precipice, there is no blow that will jab me, food that will fill me, nor sex that will sate me. or i have eaten it all, and find no one to tell it to. Reality better watch it.

And don’t think I will not scream, for i have come to realize that i cannot trust myself for all my homilies mad much and sexually driven, and I am dazed by the power of this shiny clay and piece of bones, the magic it can conjure, the ignorance it posses, makes me unable to pontificate with certainty. It can feel like a masturbation besides, the bottled id of action. calm searched for as money wealth and possession freedom searched for in solitude in want, tomes written as ejaculations..

rest, how?, I need a place, time and freedom, can’t for the trees have all gone, the bounty of the forest is lost. Gone are the days one could subsist on the plenty of the forest, and chase higher callings. They created this drought, this famine and subject us to a plow a drop by the concretization of our world. conditioning in brain waves, To pull a cart or spin a yarn daily and for what? greed unto waste- True wealth remains buried - the land and its magnetism, it’s alchemy and magic that decomposes bodies and sprout plants.

we have been lied to, civilization is a theft of the grease of the human life, a wash clean, a bland, as time is important so is it irrelevant, dinosaurs prowled the earth for millions of years and nothing was lost, so also will our strife, it will one day be eventually be forgotten

hunger confused as affectation, infatuation as an ideal, all amp to the apex of disillusionment- ayes blood shot, shoulders slumped from the tiring of trying. To

heart rending, stilling compromise, naked, bared and cold like a dead man’s hand. On our shoulders are the worn clothes of others, proudly call ours from the snatching it off others at the thrift market, for 3 months before they wool, fade, before its off to buy another.

Looking left and right for people who will drop a note of carelessness and find mirrored our own unsmiling faces waiting for dinner, as the day's only meal, Life’s a game of whack a mole, only a fool will play it twice.

We have to feed them to educate them, what happened to the world and made it devoid of concessions? we stopped accepting payments as smiles, aren't we all looking for happiness ?

 I'm the rule of absolute endlessness  exist everywhere in reality and in priories on a stretched psyche you can find no one to accompany you down this abyssthe joy is to taste and return but who has done that successfully reification of the madness of the mind find myself unable to participate in life's folly.seeing the end myself of all toilan empty shell whose soul have finished the race and waiting for my body to trudge through nothing interests me anymore except farming.we all develop into our skewed persona i remember that one track i heard half asleep on Sun kil Moon’s Benji which goes i wanna take out the trash and watch TV till I'm dead and i smiled. life is meaningless the brain is a waner and forgetful, at the fullness of the breast the biting of the infant is discounted and forgotten time replenishes and but do I forget that i once cried myself to sleep cursing my damnation, Reality had better watch it.

we crave company.someone to talk to, unassured of love, only that remains for i will be forgotten.like rain, like thunder, no matter how wide my clap.So i do things slow now, trying to wrestle time by stilling myself. Hoping to linger a little bit before I'm irredeemably swept away. life doesn't care about us, walks you on knees, put restlessness in every breath.

what do you consider a loss, company or elusive love?. The gyre, what is mine if we never gather moss my chest feels very heavy i feel like another woman will distract me from feeling this down what is real what is truth? what can i trust completely?, Unable to find calm,  i languish and hurt so deeply how can i truly flail run amok in this universe from life time to life time? -A face, a hunger. is it real? Sacrifices, reification of the mind and the bubble one finds oneself should all be questioned. Can a lack of sex play out a dream and restlessness to my mind is it fate? if I'm being factual it wasn't paradise, I am addicted to it like the destruction of a drug, and risk a lot for that cortex in the brain.since our energy is sexual, could a lack of sex play a chanced meeting as fated and numinousity to cunnilingus or am i being too cynical?

life is people misery loves company all my gains, I now count as losses. Been my own shrink can't tell if it's working. You might see me counselling on the street, and think I’m mad. The problem remains: who do i share it with? All these junks trappings of affluence and I roam them without joy. They prefer eye service to really doing anything, there is a mediocrity rampant, words without reason, and I just couldn’t play.if life is people and people are ether life is basically the impression of ether nothing is really here. I've been looking for home all my life but must accept that I am a traveler through life times, vetted by a St Christopher pendant, so I never have to argue, haggle or fight for anything. i have lived a thousand lives, had a thousand wives, and i forget every time, until the weed reminds me that I'm back, back in this prison called life.

Yes, you have!! you pathetic nonsense have projected and married that one porn you saw and haloed stupidity and doing so again.

Everywhere ‘s tense now, people resorting to mere prostitution and beggary. You meet the man ever cornered read to snap, bloodshot and on his ragged back home, still no money in his pocket , just anger - pocketed rage moving in empty bellies and slim figures, laughing menacingly and teaching wickedness as lessons in an ourobourous 

 In the era of no jobs, the economy find the player lost in the game, purpose rather than plans. Jesus lived off the forest, can be no role model of ours. I’ve to pray to God please curb my hunger, an empty walking on the pressure pads of the brain, imploring, waiting for that conscience play till we are traveling home, home for burial

Our energy is sexual we call it love , there are some that know how to circumvent the sexual energy of ours in it's entirety and know that its lies in hunger. And advertise our conditioned desires You must strive to cover that smoke with a cheap replica no matter how much we cry they know that even if through killing ourselves we have to die for if we don’t educate ourselves we will only proliferate our ignorance.

This is the longest sieving of a civility the mind will reincarnate and continue it's work for it is a conversation a precipice of eons, all god have is time, everything feeds him, every side quest every folly. don’t be scared for nothing is lost death is only transition we must truly educate, it is of primal importance  i like to believe there is map in this bog of ours

Afraid of the ripple of every bad action you must count profit and loss if you can't find trust. Do you really trust the one you are, or with? Break the cement floors please, see, the car doesn't wait to be petted, unlike the horse or donkey it speeds off to nowhere really 

The eventual vestiges of our civilization, there's an infinity in everything, taste don't swallow Since everything want to impress on you, trust will always be an expensive commodity when the price of continuity is discontent with a smirk.

from the mirror pours forth dreams, despair, agedness, youth and hope and the new day is deceptive who are we but our bodies, make us we, and only when it allow us. Who then would you say is higher this we, or ennui ? Bury a dream early they only injure us, life is a game of hurtful hope many are just hanging in there braying to no end. No matter how quick or slow the struggle, reality had better watch it.

With the woman comes fear, comes god, she's never really touched but the man feels shame, shame brings conscience but the brain can lie to you, reduce once ejaculatory love to smithereens. Sacrificed life which water? where there is no flour there can be no bible money is an important tool to attain leisure, attain transcendence, on whose time??

music cleanses the soul but and the affective ignorance will fight you the brain will fight you. i look at people and can’t stand the ignorance wonder where they get this enthusiastic confidence from everybody is always scheming tirelessly a job takes emotion straight strength that comes from within within means love , love means trust trust what do you when you don’t even trust reality the natural thing is to commit suicide in life , this game of hope try and pain seem to be the most truthful hurtful, sometimes you are happy other times you are sad one step at time at least truth is comforting 

The paste of life seeks your denigration maybe you are not the main character you once thought you were, imagine how small Joseph must have felt life will not just let me be something always wants to be born, other medium have been espoused to me than my denigration. My penis like an artist is going his all for his craft only to be useless by a critic the same still mind tells to you do gain without assurance the same brain that do elatedly, wanes just the same the sacrificed life, still mystifies me, But for the reassurance of samsara, would lock myself and never try but I would only just be back..

I'm not in control! all the thoughts that find me, find me luckily, who am i that i should sit down in an enclave and prefer writing to grabbing a hoe and think them foolish only writing and reading ti too might to find a balance the hoe and the pen

all money is bloodstained whether the blood of a farm hand or in reticence of an unused one, the lines are dipped in blood makes me prefer voyeur, for possession is a scam, written are victim of adolescent carryover  ego and its unpleasant time lack dignity and foul people have changed triggered by the simplest of tic fit to find the end as a penchant for conversation. Do people really think about the consequence or is life is filled with ego maniacs warring and trying to bloat their fats in an uppity pity

i was once enthralled, engrossed but didn’t know the feel, like the devil what he gain way do they swim the blow a lack of love, a lack of calm, a lack of understanding, people not being people they inflate this spherical unhappiness, our special is specious Habakkuk chapter 2 versus 3. Attaining knowledge by sieving prostrating and questioning it all, Until reality stops it.

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