myhatismad

my mustache tickles my bottom lip as my nose runs down the hall, chasing smells of previous, much more inspiring days and all that i want is a chance for the trtruth to manifest it's self. I will shun anyone who comes into my path and i love myself for that. specifically because i am kidding. not only you but my self aas well.i tell myself to consider all options and to never miss the chance to embrace a new perspective or opportunity. opportunities missed are the ones that ddefine our lives, and opportunites taken are the ones that separate us from our selves. Duality of personas from one situation,one person to the next. I float around ambiguously so that no one will ever know my true nature. It is far from true anyways. dilute, convaluted, misconstrued, poly-hued, forgive my speech for i am the dude. lay back, chill out, watch the news. we are who we shouldn't have been. we walk crooked pathways and call it a straight line. i fly in all directions for i know not my destination. i rumble and ramble, and juxtapose myself. pose, repose, compose, and juxtapose are the only options we have. i find myself prone under a cloud of confusion, forcast forsaken for the immediate moments to come.my body outside of my body backflips and swims through the room, i tunnel my vision and it all disappears. voluntary hallucinations are as free as my will can get. . dimensions collapse through my black-hole of an eye. light never escapes my vision, for all that i see will never be again. you're here and you're gone, you a are here and you are gone. back again gone again. the master of reappearances, continuous, constant, and forever. oh captain, my captain your will will be done on earth as it is in a heavenly space above . . or below, we may never know. tithing away, biding our time, sacrificial society wanting nothing but more. more life, more time, more laughter and smiles. more sin, less sane, it all goes the same. the spiral is downward,and momentum is high. a constant rush, with a con constant wait. flatter yourself with material things, as you build a temple around yourself. All you have left to worship is nothing. Worship of the worthless.Organic decay will never cease. We are the next mayans, the next egyptians, a brilliant culture lost to the world. monuments of architecture.pantheons of art, literature, and beauty devoted to the gods within ourselves. we are the gods of the future. primitive and primal. unbound from the past, unraveled from spirit. poised between the beasts and the gods, not one nor the other but a mixture of the two. sprawling for acceptance, from ourselves.hatred is abound, and morale is low. we we're given wrong directions and off we went. rant and ramble, it all stays the same. til death do us part, man and his games.stuttering, confused, battered and bruised. tread til you're dead. sweat and don't fret, you're penny will be paid, as we bury you in debt connect and be elated, swell you're ego inside. you're head gets bigger as your soul tries to hide. development of american youth, the trash compactor of the soul. . . . . . . . . .

myhatismad

watch and wait, it's never too late for revival of our spirits, resuscitation of the imagination. curiosity fills while listlessness kills. waiting for change, yes. . . waiting for change. a culture stuck in a limbo-ing, pergatory type resevoir of waste and un-ending destruction. the ever and all sought happiness and love, we sit and hyper-judge, sling a glance hoping for a chance for some actual communication. language is lost, communication is a miss. money being the priority, everything else is dwindling. education is a means for a job, and not universal skill and knowledge. the anti-renaissance age. . . . . . speaking of these things is useless. i need to rest. . . .