part 41

juvenile discretion weeping on the rocks far below anything surrendering with the dawn the clown typing not p0em cuz he ain't no poet, and don't he know it. that's a fact. ya can't beat that.
a fact of experience. he knows what is and what ain't in the long run. don't make him decide for or against you, you might be surprised what the results could be.
let's just keep it simple as always.
we are prepared to disentangle all evidence and memory to the contrary. nothing is forbidden, everything is permitted. this is the starting off point where when everything is possible. in with the bees. can we trust them now?
what?

funsville. a universe created, maintained, and destroyed for our pleasure and amusement. why should it not be so? no reason we can determine if so or not. are we not gods now walking the face of the earth as it pleases us to do so.
so much talking about it but not enough doing about it. those were the days when the freaks came out to try to save us until they found out there is nothing nor no one to save. too bad for us. we were born and raised with bad brains. we should not be, but here we are anyway all acting like the world owes us a living.
dancing in the garden. imagine that. audacious intents. sucking in information we cannot judge if it is good or evil like we are supposed to be able to do according to the psychological profiles we are compared to marked normal. we are not normal. we won't be normal no matter how we are pushed into it. why does everyone have to be normal? that is how normal people think it should be. be like us they all tell us. is that normal behavior?
it's normal behavior for normal people. they love the collective. they distrust the individual. they want you to join them.
sorry - not interested.

the normal people are those causing the problems in the world by being so fucking normal - normal this, normal that, normal the other thing on and on.
assimilation. the stinky underfoot things they have to say about one another with smiles. each hating their lives but who are stuck and can't get out. the clown's been there and done that with the normal people. normal people are nowhere. they don't know where anything is. anything else is not normal. dig?
the collected artifact. admired but never read.
reading is too difficult a process. who has time? some isolated group of radical poets undercovers.
why is it assumed that the few manipulate control over the many? shouldn't it be otherwise?
an orb of what is left of our consciousness placed in orbit around 0 the beginning ending of everything. the clown is lost in a confusing world beyond his comprehension babbling world words of his new found innocence laughing to hell and back as if it's all the same.

an everyday experience of joy and low sodium diet with us vs them mentality claiming the upper hand with vengeance for all as all would have it.
can we live with love? can we live without it?
do we know what love is? is there love without sex?
silly questions enough for us to ask with dirty teeth signifying there might be something amiss a deserted ship. careful as you step.
he thinks about having done it like others have done it, imagining some weird scene in our hearts and minds to play out upon the world stage once in a lifetime. it does nothing else. there is no purpose. it is gazorbnik for no practical reason whatsoever that we can think of.
what is what?

shout into the abyss. no sound returns. nothing to comfort or scold us. any meaning is an invention of our minds. this is where we escape to. this is where we escape from. becuz. why not?
simple meanings exposed for all to attempt to understand that previously have no meaning.
our favorite gas station is closed it is sadly reported by our patrols back to those of us who rarely leave the house.
there's prescriptions ready at the pharmacy.
the clown has thought so many thoughts unconnected to any sort of logic that they are nearly unrecognizable in his head programmed by nature, nurture, and indoctrination to recognize only that which has economic purpose.
one person looks into a forest and see abundance of nature. another person looks into a forest and sees board feet of lumber. who is right and which is wrong? stinky gloppy tangy cat box smell. let's go insane around here, baby. begin by rocking around the clock. does anyone remember beginnings of anything? has anybody ever? are we dreaming? face mecca while you shit. pronounce the holy words from your heart doing your sacred duty. go in peace.

an armed society is a polite society.
long may it wave burning up on the hill high higher highest. that was the feeling of the old days before the future came to town. a backward time we lost our way. can we ever recover? recover what from who? if we only knew then what we know now. but that's the trick of it, isn't it?
the clown scorns the world as he has come to know it. the plot thickens. he fell for all of it. he didn't have a chance. the whole revolution of it for nothing he didn't want to begin with. what a dupe. all a rock and roll fantasy outta his mind.

what he did want to begin with is to be left alone. he dislikes annoying people and all people are annoying. only interested in me me me they seek out you you you. they want something from you, for you to verify their identity they have had stolen from them replaced with a temporary replacement identity, or 2.

identity for all, and to all a good night.
don't let the bedbugs bite.
everything has been stated already. does that mean it's truth? it can hardly matter less to us. seeing words vertical and diagonal instead of horizontal. what's the prognosis, doc? tell us what you believe is true.
slight instances of visions on/off in our brains.
can it be explained?
neptunian love children.
children being the gods of everything everywhere everywhen. the sacrifice of self to self. what does it mean to the common schmo? and there are so many of us. those who wander unknowing, by the millions if not billions. the schmucks who fell for the whole damn thing at once and for all. it's too late for us now.
it's all been a con game. it's all been fake. now we awaken to that fact. no one's coming to save us unless we save ourselves. but how is that done at this point? who is ready and able to disentangle themselves from it? what does that entail?
it's medication time.
he wonders if he wants to lay down for some period of time, and he decides that he does.

awakening (but not really).
something like it but not the same. a chill up the clown's spine making him twitch a moment feeling briefly naked as a bean hearing a laugh and a scream.
what does it all mean?
we don't particularly care.
we just do it as it goes.
we are a menace to ourselves and others down the line.
we screw things up really fine.
but somebody needs to play our role, swinging from the gallows pole.
for every game there must be losers to make their victories mean anything which ultimately are dust in the wind.
this few seem to understand it takes someone wise to perceive through the lies.
we laugh and laugh at their profound ignorance they have yet to discover blinded by the light they believe is revelation.
we have no truth but the truth of being alone as those living the solitary life might find it being unknown to those following the crowds. but knowing this truth will do one no good. one becomes a stranger in a strange land - a universal soldier for someone else's profit throughout the universe. this is the focus of our rage against the machine of our oppression.

thoughts of suicide bring us to the pinnacle of understanding ourselves. who ventures close to this is perhaps a fool wandering aimlessly where angels fear to tread. we know nothing. stringing words together like glittering beads that become meaningless.

part 39 (3)

zap?
is it what?
could it be?
nothing is real the coo coo says to no one but everybody knows by now. reality has shifted to the crazy zone where it might belong as robot children play in the rubble of war like the old films we once saw but no more.
are they forbidden?

or maybe we are forbidden?
cast off into a sea of darkness - or not.
for us the skies are bright symbolic green of always joy above which we may reach but not to touch.

no problem for us. why bother with that? creating what needs to be destroyed. what fun. a loaded gun. we know what to do, don't you? let's go home.

expressing the inevitable defeat against the world indeed unless we might imagine ourselves becoming increasingly otherwise engaged in a hero's welcome. watching them everywhere they might choose to wander. cheese.

easy action here where it belongs on easy street spitting images settling the scores at the burning theater to cheering crowds of not so innocent bystanders learning to behave themselves in proper mannerisms of obedience coordinated to ritual forms of free shipping options after dark.

fear not little people, it will do you no good. be glad for your oppression. know you are needed for the machinery of our project to continue as it will. don't give up.

arcing electric chest hair beginning the test of life or death continuing ever onward toward needless forgetfulness. burger control consciousness. everything else is nonsense thinking as if nothing ever is going on.

into the hours of the night before they come knocking in the door for us into our brains overloaded with nothing but how much longer do we need to know better. gazing upon these golden asses
emptiness revealed on the underside of everything that is nothing more than a moment never happened to be foretold again forever and a day.

dizzy in head inside urinal dreams about to climax on the floor with good intentions with time well spent aside from the storm. praise be to the one true god almighty pronounced dead on arrival. our prayers are answerable to no one. no one is answerable to us. we have no answers. we are fortunate enough through understanding but yet again maybe not.

who could be such as us?
who am us?
we dream struggling snakes and ladders of things impossible without motion of space and time and mind as if anything exists as that.

? it's a zoo around here forecasting shadows of our lives with truthful lies of love. happy are the days passing out of our control.
blessed be, baby.
hooray for babylon.
the smell of medicated sweat dripping from the brow opening the imaginary eye out. everything shut down for the parades of misfits in the rain.

true truth rotten from within the twisting rationalogic devotional mind that exists. but how about a kiss from beyond this mortal sacrifice demented injustice? how do we feel? our righteous indignation knows no bounds on earth feeding on its own fury of itself. good girls and boys training to become warriors they are told to be for nation and glory. slaughtering the despised among themselves. easy victims without mercy. their masters are well pleased. so be it.

the oldest trick to be devised upon us we are suckers for in our stupid youth. no wisdom of age in our brains. go home to turnip town.

everything okay thanks again to everyone. please be pleased. but what formations discovering thoughtcrime throughout this process of making sure it might belong here in opposition from getting better soon enough to prevent this human death disease thing from taking over the domain and that we even have such words as these to describe our proposed fate.

the hate involved for ourselves many enjoy its taste of assuming foretold delusions in their simple minds bent on destroying paths is all they can imagine as in days of yore.

the brutality of blood and honor. but this is how they would have it in warrior paradise of boasting pride bragging of adventure. they will not tolerate disgrace, they would rather death. a silly people.

nevermind - let us be beyond that. we know the way toward infinity. come as we are. be here now. a stupid people.

envelope elephantine epiphanies which come and go outta sight and mind these days before they vanish with completely different complicating meanings hereafter.
do we want to die?
or do we just not want to live?
it could be this, it could be that, it could be the other fucking thing. just keep on truckin' seeking another blessing in disguise along the side of the road least traveled that if we do our jobs right we may discover its perpetually penetrating presence purposely pondering putrid purple puddles.
double secret agents whispering in shadows of time licking lips after washing their hands again many times over and over like psychotic awareness wannabes too dangerous for reason.
nobody's business comes walking down the street asking, who do you love?
who do you do?
was the sky blue?
is this an advanced directive by chance of the moon.
5 2 1
it's all over, baby, one more time as we need witnesses for our confession now around the wheels of confusion playing in our heads of romance. turn out the light could be the last thing we do anywhere around these parts. cancel our certain chances for attending the clear power ceremony working the stage. we thought the only way out was in if we thought of anything at all. but we are doing alright. stooges for the lord god we remember now being set right by our foes.
who knew?

we fit in where we could find to fit in on the edge where we attain little pieces of peace smooth face against the cold tile.
each house a golden sphere of love in doomtown.
nothing left to lose.
choose your choices carefully on fire in different ways.
fighter jets missing the mark with power chords  ringing loud upon the scene in our minds. disgusting ridicule of madness the clown awakening forever to appear as unassuming as possible remembering who inherits the earth. this isn't here><freak out!>|[]|<->|\\|...???

living against the rules till death doth part in holographic illusionary inter-dimensional flabbergasting hillbillies in heaven with yesterday's child heroes always leaving town when there was revolution in the air, or stayed and suffered.
suffered from the agony of love misplaced.
we are always in the world at the front face of the earth, like that would ever be, or would it..?

we remember when we were champions.
the end.

part 37

perfect nuances of everything.
the clown is calmly delighted gazing out the window while typing not p0em.
cuz he ain't no poet.
ouch?

but he can dream.
as if dreaming is anything.
dreaming about cyborgs - beautiful colorful cyborgs.
moonlight.
another cigarette.
it's cracked cut off at the past where the twain shall not meet.
the future beckons us through the unknown darkness.
but some will tell us there is no future, nor is there a past.
one continuing moment here now.
technically this is true.
so what?

here now is where when we directly perceive the world and from this we surmise a past and suppose a future from our experiencing the world and ourselves in it changing in space and time and all that jazz and then some.
the clown likes thinking about this kinda shit.
it tickles his brain.
there's all now about the universe being some sort of hologram that's semi-popular.
is this a shocking surprise?
to some maybe apparently.
but we always metaphorically describe and explain the universe with whatever technology we have developed at the time.
it used to be a clockwork machine.
then a computer program.
now a hologram.
whatever.
pet the kitty.

there is so much can be found to be wrong with everything.
if everything is everything then it encompasses right and wrong.
are both in equal measure?
is one distinguishable from the other?
is what is right for one wrong for another?
is right and wrong absolute?
could be.
could not be.
take your pick.

if we do not know right from wrong they tell us we are insane.
what a messy business that can become.
good thing we have professionals to sort it out for us.
professionals sorting everything out we cannot be trusted with judging for ourselves.
rinky-dink.
so much confusion.

and then to make matters worse, there's gazorbnik.
it muddles and fuddles everything apart together like nobody's business.
everything being incomprehensibly comprehensible.
everything full of joy and sorrow depending upon one's motivations of apprehension.
come hither.
listen to everyone laughing.
do they understand the joke?
or doesn't it matter by now?

from the depths of our disgrace in the judgment of others we overcome ourselves into being ourselves as we have never been.
bitter terrible coffee even sugar cannot remedy.
ugh.
a toke, a cigarette.
some oblivious of anything going on but their own happy days passing.
what horror is to come?
let's not think of that.

it's sad to think about everything could be peace, love, and understanding if we will it to be which we won't.
not us, not now, not ever.
oh well.

but there are those who have nothing and those who have everything and those who want to change it and those who want to maintain it and on and on like that.
kitty don't care.
poking her head through the blinds sniffing the night air.
happy is this day spent doing little of anything.
and everything's a scam.
realize that as we go searching for truth.
does it matter?
we can play along as if.
wander along on pathless paths intersecting ones traveled by few and many to steal what we want and need from them for our own purposes in our own designs.
we don't need heaven or hell or whatever like that.
let the others worry.
we have the project to be concerned about though it causes us no concern since it is perfect to itself.
and no one knows even if we tell them.
everything is smooth.

herp-a-derp-a-doodle-doo.
crazy time.
everybody get ready.
here we go.
nothing but trouble on its way.
gonna rain on our parade.
but we've seen through that and are quite willing to live or die as fate allows.
how else should we spend our time?
we yawn with expectation.

reject.
action through inaction.
take the energy away.
it's ok to be ignored.
observe.
report.

many are blinded by truth.
we don't care except to be thankful it ain't us.
no way.
we'd rather be idiots knowing nothing.
but we understand.
11:11
may everything go your way.
may everything be a success for you.
may you attain what wealth and power you need to be satisfied.
may your enemies lay at your feet.
what else do we want from this world?
what else is there to want?
it's such a shallow place to be.
there are depths upward to reach toward.
but we know nothing.

what is there to know but endless details about whatever inconsequential thing there is to know anything about?

we continue our way toward understanding more than knowing fact or fiction.
let the others have their pride to hide their shame.

another cigarette.
and he sleeps.

part 36 (9)

everything and nothing has been revealed about our theory of everything just about or not.
loose rambling threads of wandering thoughts this way, that way, the other way - irrelevant or not to our theory or anything else.
while the others are sleeping, dreaming perhaps.
living in a world of individual dreams becoming hard collective reality.
who can tell us it is not?
and we argue about what it all means.
and we fight about getting as much of it for ourselves as we can, some more successful than others.
as it should be?
perhaps.
or not.

as it is.
whatever it is.
whatever it means.
9@3
light rain in the darkness before dawn.
lit by electric light.
everything coming from the sun worshipped for ages and still by those who know not what they do.
funny.

so the clown isn't so sure he knows what's going on sitting before the computer typing not p0em for no one while thinking about dragonflies and aardvarks and those violently opposed to one another with each fighting for what they feel is a just cause which maybe it is or maybe it's not.
if there is right and wrong.
he gazes out the window at the children walking by to the indoctrination centers as is considered normal for this reality scheme.
he has dim memory of his own time spent there in his youth until he woke up turned on reading on beyond zebra for some odd reason.

and all the people who cannot seem to function within the parameters of the hollow structure of this given social reality alienated and rejected.
and as a spaceship hovers nearby.
an old trick.
oh, look! a squirrel!

he thinks about how museums freak him out always afraid he'll get trapped in one like maybe he already has been.
it's all death.
this culture is death.
the people are death.
he needs to wake up some more.
or something.
nothing seems quite right.
it seems like impossible dreams.
dilemma of post-postmodern life.
a new age upon us perhaps.
everything perhaps.
drink it up.
yum.

it's medication time!
pleasant dreams.
another cigarette.
please pass the ketchup.

he wonders about the consciousness of a cat.
or a worm.
an amoeba?
anything?
is all consciousness?
perhaps not to the practical rationalogic realist.
they could be right, but that's no fun.
but fun is not where it's at.
a distraction from what needs to be done to survive.
turn off the tv.
get back to work.

counting cigarettes down to 0 - death.
slow suicide.
no wonder.
this world has not been very nice.
it has constantly ridiculed him and called him names.
but it's not the world's fault.
it must be as it is.
it cannot help itself to be any different.
he is tired.
he wants to go home falling away back into darkness to never be no more.
or something like that.
he's just not interested, never has been much.
people getting all up excited about nothing to him.
he just observes and tries to understand - which he doesn't mostly.
the gods of song and dance.
the gods of war.
the gods of ocean waves.
the gods of thunderous storms
a god of just sitting doing nothing.
everything more trouble than it's worth.
existence is enough - to be.
an amazing thing it is to think about - experiencing.

and fantasies of this and that and the other thing.
it's all been a dream.
he imagines dreaming the world, or the world dreaming him?
whatever.
which is what?
who can tell the difference?

a world colored by his demise.
he is not happy, he is not sad.
he just is.
enduring with whatever dwindling strength is left him.
gone in a instant - 0.
has it ever been?
who is left to recall?
he becomes no one.
he laughs at this what must be a joke.
something that has been not at all.
this is paradise, if ever it might be.

he gazes out the window at dog and man walking each other going by.
he breathes.
sitting before the computer silent.
loops of cycles never repeating the same ever again - or not.
he imagines one rotation of the universe being the beginning and end of space and time.
perhaps.
or not.
the absurd surrender.
misplaced victories.
and now a car drives past disappearing into the future.
he trusts what he sees.
it's the meaning of what he sees that he is unsure about.
it can mean anything.
what does a duck mean?
it's all gazorbnik to him.

what a stupid unnecessary thing gazorbnik is.
it adds to nothing.
is it supposed to?
he yawns at the thought of it.
he insists on this absurdity as he does having another cigarette.
such a loser.

a peanut butter and jam sandwich and a nap.

the earth is real, the world not so much.

part 31

lighting another cigarette.
life is good.
as good as it needs to be for the moment with some evil mixed in for contrast otherwise it's like an eternity of beige.
yikes.

so everything is a groove with rough edges.
if not we would just fall asleep and not even know we are dead.
still, many accomplish to do just that.
why imprison those who do not wish to be here?
why wouldn't those feeling themselves imprisoned not wanna be here?
ain't no mystery to that.
love is not always the answer.
and/or we do not understand what love is and not is.
in crazy land anything might be true.
how do you do?

as the clown drifting further away from people continuing typing not p0em for no one.
he sneezes.
transformation #18.
here it comes.
be ready.
pay attention.
it won't be around again.

nothing much to discuss about.
we're right.
everybody is wrong.
challenging the established status quo that benefits the wealthy and powerful elite which we will always have with us.
don't do this.
don't do that.
don't do the other thing.
they will let you know when you are free.

freedom not to do shit unless one wishes to, not on enforced demand.
but can a community operate like that for everyone?
for the clown it depends on who benefits on whether he's willing to participate or not.
does the community as a whole benefit, or just a few who grab as much for themselves as they can?
becuz they can.
we are too lazy and disorganized to prevent them.

life on earth.
life in this world of our own making.
the promises made and broken to ourselves.
another cigarette.
there is a physical world - a world according to physics.
what exactly it is physics is measuring is still unknown to us and perhaps will remain so.
is it real?
is it ideal?
is there any way to determine which or whatever?
the orb of the machine glows before us.
the machine everyone knows as nancy strolling along the beach to come sit opposite the clown her back to the sea.
the sea is humanity.
so, nancy says, where we at?
i'm watching the waves, he says.
then i'll watch you, she says.
if you wish, he says.
yes, she says.

a small herd of zebra trot by followed by 3 giraffes.
as a spaceship hovers silently nearby.
no one believes it's really there so they continue going to work.
be on time or don't show up.
there is no i in team.
crazy dream.

we measure reality against what we wish it would be but never is nor will be nor ever once was.
too bad for us.
we live in a dream - even especially those who claim to have woken up.
a dream of knowing truth.
they believe they are in a hollywood movie.
happy endings to a comedy of errors.
they are only on the stage at the burning theater where nobody cares.

but cheer up.
the dream may be shaped to our individual liking if we please.
forget the collective ideas of the masses and those who manipulate what they think.
they have their own limited understanding of their experience in the scheme of things around them as they have been informed how it is supposed to be.
they believe without a doubt.
we believe our gazorbnik with nothing but doubts.
how else is it supposed to be done?
we are enslaved by faith when we believe the unbelievable.
we are often victims of ourselves.
we are sometimes as angels in heaven and as demons in hell.
we are always gods walking the earth if we wanna be.
if we use our imagination.
who needs to verify this?
we trust no one to tell us the truth even if they might know it.
truth has no meaning.

how to succeed failing in life without even trying.
failure is a slender loose thread.
pull at it and everything unravels.
everything as we know it.
butter pecan ice cream face robotman scooting up and down easy street looking for a score before the show begins.
balloons for everyone.
:>-<]/|_|\[>-<:
having difficulty thinking.
the mind control radiation machines must be turned on.
but that's just an imaginary excuse to not wanna think.
conflicts of interest designed to distract from the main issue of belief among us about how fake everything seems to be.
doesn't it?
would we know fake from anything else?
why should we suspect?
becuz we are able to imagine?
something doesn't line up right.
everything's a bit off.
cracks in the wall.
invisible quarks in the cracks.
we are beyond such meaning having reached gazorbnik for ourselves.
we are branded traitors to the cause though the cause is lost.
it must be our fault.
but the profits of our endeavors soar over a cliff to the rocks below losing their market value instantly upon regret.
trillions of $$$ in their pockets they try to get themselves into heaven.
we know the story about that.

the clown is dying.
suicide by cigarette.
the rapid slow demise.
he is joyful.
no one here knows death.
it is eternal mystery.
it is what we make it out to be for ourselves from our imagination.
could it be gazorbnik?

death is an integral part of gazorbnik, but so is life and all between and beyond.
ain't playing no hero.
ain't playing no villain or victim.
ain't playing nothing no more.
everything is real.

awakening from a deep nap.
a toke, a cigarette - the morning coffee too old by now.
skip it.
coffee seems to put him to sleep anyway.
a sleep he feels he never wakes out of.
drifting in a daze, not even a dream.
it is now.
should he be alert?
should he be on guard?
defensive?
against what?
what's trying to get him?
what for?

when the state protects us from ourselves we are all each suspect.
having to prove our innocence.
you cannot change people's minds.
they cannot change their minds themselves.
everything remains the same.
a cooking bubbling stew.
count from 0 and you can't get anywhere.
something does not come from nothing.
where and when there is 0 there can only be 0.
0 can only be here now.
what are the limits to here now but the infinite eternal?
you know we're right.

everyone is right for what they think that gets them through it.
who are we to judge correct/incorrect?
to hold ourselves above as others are fond to do.
it is what it is.
and what is that?
we don't know yet.
it's something.
but we don't know that either.
it may be something that is nothing.
it's a possibility.
is it really that important what it is?
we would just like to know.

pet the kitty.

part 30

fuck.
integral temperament rotting from the inside with disgusting oozing filth running down its leg staggering into town drunk with power.
look at the butterflies.
think only good happy thoughts for once.
cute kittens playing in the daisies.
death to our enemies.
it's all distraction from each other.
think.

will this be the end?
there is no end.
eternity is here now.
abundant sacred rituals in the face of danger for those who believe in that sorta thing.
as the clown continuing not p0em for no one comes to understand what the nature of everything might be - or not.
it's all in how we present ourselves.
he presents himself as someone who couldn't care less.
dress for success.
there is no success like failure.
realizing one need not do shit no more for nobody.
just hanging around on easy street.
abstract minds aplenty.
people go go go.
don't stop to look and listen.
wham!

it wears him out just watching it.
somebody must be responsible.
is it him?
responsible with all his irresponsibility.
oh no!
what will they think up next?
he'd rather no $$$ than a job like that.
and $$$ does grow on trees.
go print up some more of these.
$$$ sucking up anything of value and turning it into piles of garbage archeologists will dig through looking for signs of life.
nothing but existence.

their war machine keeps turning churning the living into dead while we go shopping.
one would think that we would think which we do but what is to be done?
line up to be shot down in the street?
vote in elections they always win no matter what side they're on?
they are everywhere.
get ahead people at any cost to others.
for us it's a kafkaesque scheme with surreal intent.
the devil's in the details of our subjective opinions of facts.
if it were to have beginning it begins at 0, yes?
we do not know what 0 is.
it cannot be detected except by its absence nor measured by any countable units infinitely large or infinitesimally small.
it's as though it doesn't exist, which it does not.
it is by its nonexistence it is known.
and all such like that and then some.

everything happens at 0.
here and now eternal place and time.
understand.
this is heaven.
chanting the names of gods atop a rubbish heap what's left of our endeavors.
this is our temple.
we may run and hide in the hills but not escape the increasing encroachment.
nature doesn't stand a chance.
we turn the fertile into desert everywhere we might go to get away.
we are long past being one with the earth until we die and become ashes and dust.
but even then we poison the earth with our bodies.
pure and clean were always illusion we destroyed everything to achieve.
now 0 will swallow us whole like a whore sucking cock.
and still it will not be the end of us.
just what the fuck?
where's the good happy thoughts in any of this?
everything at once.
ka-blam!

all engines full ahead.
here we go again.
too bad we need to fall.
decompose to feed new mutations.
do we want it all to be predictable or the mystery to remain?
good is relative, happy is illusion.
it is good the clown is happy cleaning the cat box like he needs to.
you just need a little LSD.

the things one never knows.
remain in control.
change at will.
love.
the project moves "forward" as planned.
direction is aimless.
purpose is pointless.
the corporate takeover is nearly complete.
citizen/consumer#: thp160-p
may you serve it well.
don't forget the ketchup.

everything has rules.
everything has that deviant to the rules.
all is necessary otherwise nothing happens.
maybe nothing is supposed to happen.
perfect state.
no mistakes.
0?

when the earth moves again.
nothing is left untouched unpolluted.
this world is a disgrace.
the clown used to believe in an age to come when all this becomes unnecessary and abandoned for the wild.
now he's not too sure.
an age of destruction.
dumb as fuck.
but as long as those wave their burning flags up on the hill everything is alright.
it's ok.

though everything comes crashing down.
it's ok.
though billions die.
it's ok.
evolving transformation.
we can go along with it but cannot control except it is a direct result of our collective actions.
everything is alright.
it's ok.

the others do what we pay them to do.
what do we need but next to nothing?
what do they need but next to everything?
we give them all we have to give but they  always want more.
we invent more.
we invent the project.
the object of the project is the project.
what would we be without it?
happy playing bongos in the dirt.
no one telling us we shouldn't be.
life is good.
it's ok.

but people have to get on each other telling them what is what and not what.
use your fucking imagination for once, would ya?
go away.
it's ok.

but many have so much poison running through them they cannot stop themselves.
poison ideas.
truth rotten to the core of their beliefs.
the mindless mind of the masses we are supposed to have faith in.
everything is alright.
it's ok.

nothing is free.
not the birds nor especially the bees.
wolves? hahaha...
prisoners of our survival mechanisms.
we can do nothing other than what we do.
nature nurture indoctrination.
even the controllers are controlled.
it's supposed to be this way.
everything is alright.
it's ok.

ok?