The desperation Of constant soreness that too often wracks the body. The area of your choosing. The days of distress dissolve into grains of sand. The fiends of Hollywood put ideas into your head. The voices emanating in this public space around you simply obsessed with the illusion of money being wealth. Garnering paper instead of material good and land. Some fish swim through the water in an assumed cloak of inky deception. Invisibility by obfuscating. I imagined anonymity and achieved it. It is called mediocrity. Terminally aware but blinded by coffee and indifferent experimental surroundings of the experiential mundane. Throw away impressions passing through the scattering device known as memory. Raucous disturbance by virtue of head injury. Too much in the way of apologies for wanting to be recognized as being larger than life. Reflections of a more generous era floating to the surface. Dreams popping tiny bubbles. Effervescence. You can spot unfulfilled desire by the expressions frozen upon their faces. The paper illusions of a dream. A carousel swung out of balance, out of focus, out of reach back into darkness. Too many educated beyond their means to comprehend.
Wake up in this hostile land of the too many perpetually mentally deficient. This New World order engines equally casting a perpetual gray overhead. Mood deficient ever offensive ‘weed‘ smelling dirty canvas soaked individuals blasting their presence all the way up from the back of the bus. De-evolved animal vision sick fucks uncaring in their habituation and particularly so. Every time you feel another thick black cock push its way harder up your chancre ridden asshole you can think of how you fucked up your own life by messing with the Proletariat for no good reason. Demoted now to just another worthless piece of shit. Would you really want your dreams to become reality? Or is that simply the main way of controlling those who irk those other that push the buttons and pull the levers?
Tall dehydrated ‘pickle‘ people. Some tall, and just in from Asia. International crowd, running suit proud. One becomes two. Two both passingly curious in a Japanese sort of way. Everything sort of perfect in a superficial sense. The streets outside are suddenly full of Asian faces. Inexplicable? The world is struck by silence. No talk zone declared beneath the blare of eighties hipster Negro beat speaker tones. The Barrista spills the ice. Water wiped upon the marble counter for the first time in ages in that consciously diffident Feminist backhanded sort of way. It hurts my eyes to look up at such closed minded people. It never fails that those bereft of proper parenting were missing a father. The ones that need to stabilize their fragile existence by routinely diminishing customer’s egos by enacting silent intimidation. If this world were to stand up to direct interrogation of, “Is there?“, versus, “Can you?“, then what? Women of unimaginable proportions who have lost their own sex somewhere along the way. Perhaps existing under rolls of fat covering the intransigence of their aprons! The intellectual mind sucking prune thing posing as the Dr. Phibes surrogate’s wife. The arrogant ‘lefty chink‘ over the left shoulder flexing her bum sticking it out suggesting the false possibility of a brilliant as fuck. Sodomy being the only possible converse that they seem to know. Available to any who might wish to tame her lifetime of regrets.
The playlist around the room a usual life experience for those addicted to opiates from the world’s foremost drug dealers. Centuries old poisons of misapprehensions taken for incontrovertible fact. A poising virus affecting mankind as a whole like lice. The plague of false ideas supported by nicotine, sugar, coffee, cocaine, opium, and all the big business mark down specials that your wasted pocketbook can possibly survive. The two zombies continue defying life before the picture window to the unceasing march of time outside. One the better of the two parasites feeding off the flagging life force of the other. The pretend male thing prancing about in his Spandex tights and a woolen shirt. The haphazard result of the interaction of two queens, one having slipped up and actually possessing a real vagina and womb. Young woman forward thinking Feminist guiding her male pet about. The constancy of his enforced silence a book end against being drawn into a larger unwanted discussion that might leave her the lessor. “Sic em boy!“. They are collectively terrorized at the prospect of their sole means of support in the basement of the very thing they espouse hatred for turning off the spigot of future finances. This invisible daddy resented by the playbook vagaries of contemporary Liberal lore.
The horseshit smell of misplaced poverty piss down the back of the pants shit stained male white homelessness. Piquant aroma of a really, not wanted to be breathed in, form of rare cheese. Do not even think of crackers! Society now tank on the guise of a demanding mistress that sorts people like a cardsharp putting ‘children‘ in their place. The tyranny of mother Medea. Man hating the prime directive as witnessed in smelly roached reprobates like him. Guys and gals that should have made it in happily continuing forth the race now cut off at the pass by the current doctrine of hate making them mortal enemies. Stale stink perfumes of unceasing echoes the rip tide. Existentialism now the seat of oblivion in this nightmare situation. People’s insides deposing gas from the persistent alleged Neanderthal ubiquity.