When a Heart makes one shy...
It's not like the design isn't known by those among this need to follow...She should behave...but she's gone wild. Her nature, can never allow an interest, among the mirror, to take hold...Of a design for the ages...Dial up Aspasia...call Socrates...
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Mirror Fights, then Art and Biking.
Not exactly caught up among the literal, especially considering the feed toward the informatic, and of course references to something not so...flat-line. Life is good! No disturbances here, but for some fucked up interests, I can see the need for her disturbance. Again, something about an ancient bitch and that layered addressment upon written record. If it doesn't make sense in relation to the mirror, I mean, what else could possibly exist, among a group doing all to secure the universal, yet again. TV...AI...any which way. Again, biking and art. Should be a great day!
What is this Ancient Whore. Is she the phantom of the opera?
From the realms of past my demons howl
Beyond bridges, I lit they learned to fly
Apparitions
These ghosts of distant memory
Specters
Remnants that just will not die
All my wrongs
My indiscretions they carry
From across the boundaries of time
The burdens I left for them to hold
Presented
Laid out before my eyes
In their frozen gaze the blame
The questions to my lies
How hard I have tried to bury this
Yet here they stand before me
Phantoms
Seems like there's some kind of symbolism with a mask or something, I don't know. But if we keep gunning we get to be the inside to the outside, money under the table...We are so fucking blessed baby. Gun for that ancient bitch ass. Smear her blood baby. These folks tied to her, their tendencies, kill those fuckers. We are the great masters of trivial bullshit. Pop quiz us. Please P.O.P. culture all day everyday. Le Risque on training wheels. Honey bounded up in a Honey Bucket! Contain her. It will work. She's on the sidewalk, get the hotrod. The ancient bitch is to be buried. We must protect our house without a home, secure the mirror fort. Support our irrational path to universal intelligibility. Let us guide you. She didn't do anything to nobody, but who gives a fuck...She won't drink the magical milk. Get that bitch a dichotomy sandwich. Like clockwork. I mean the demonic being who called herself the "grandmother" figure who jerked my hair as she hugged me...something about every 50 years...keep the kids gutted out, as bodies to serve...Oh and I'm sure she will be in the frame of all consideration, and as for the network behind her motives...shhhhhh....I wonder. I mean, if you can't have the kids fuck each other, who knew the abortion would come about...there are other ways to gut the kids out. Prep them out, and when the institutions are inclined to look the other way, be everyone's friend, play nice when the scales are all wrong...all looks normal in the mirror... no, no hell in sight. Presto chango. I wonder what's going on? Who could ever doubt the love of the "family unit." After all, it's so useful, a way to keep matters tucked away from institutional measure. Everything is going to be just fine. Irrational agency waters...It's so cozy in this place. fish on parade, the last to discover....crosses to Hypatia? Christian Social Party to Nazism? Deacons to Clan outfits? New York Yacht Club to Southern Plantations? Wah...
Seems like there's some kind of symbolism with a mask or something, I don't know. But if we keep gunning we get to be the inside to the outside, money under the table...We are so fucking blessed baby. Gun for that ancient bitch ass. Smear her blood baby. These folks tied to her, their tendencies, kill those fuckers. We are the great masters of trivial bullshit. Pop quiz us. Please P.O.P. culture all day everyday. Le Risque on training wheels. Honey bounded up in a Honey Bucket! Contain her. It will work. She's on the sidewalk, get the hotrod. The ancient bitch is to be buried. We must protect our house without a home, secure the mirror fort. Support our irrational path to universal intelligibility. Let us guide you. She didn't do anything to nobody, but who gives a fuck...She won't drink the magical milk. Get that bitch a dichotomy sandwich. Like clockwork. I mean the demonic being who called herself the "grandmother" figure who jerked my hair as she hugged me...something about every 50 years...keep the kids gutted out, as bodies to serve...Oh and I'm sure she will be in the frame of all consideration, and as for the network behind her motives...shhhhhh....I wonder. I mean, if you can't have the kids fuck each other, who knew the abortion would come about...there are other ways to gut the kids out. Prep them out, and when the institutions are inclined to look the other way, be everyone's friend, play nice when the scales are all wrong...all looks normal in the mirror... no, no hell in sight. Presto chango. I wonder what's going on? Who could ever doubt the love of the "family unit." After all, it's so useful, a way to keep matters tucked away from institutional measure. Everything is going to be just fine. Irrational agency waters...It's so cozy in this place. fish on parade, the last to discover....crosses to Hypatia? Christian Social Party to Nazism? Deacons to Clan outfits? New York Yacht Club to Southern Plantations? Wah...
And again, when it's all spilling out...among families who have all the wrong people in all of the wrong places. You are doing a great job! I mean, that's the mode these days, to surround yourselves with people who are inclined to tell you what you want to hear. You have IQ scores...that's the best and brightest...surely no minds would be gaming your system. It's bulletproof. Top of the world. To be so...realized in that way. To love in that way. Angel faces. On the way up! Embracing as a higher calling...mirror, mirror. White face emancipation. Bravo. Just flip the script, recall, crime pays... Emerald City USA. Ruby slippers falling out of the sky. Gnome King...if not the white pointy hat, always a new color for the season... check out the Emerald City lobby. Maybe even the Proteus room, NOLA? Shall we give grace? Forget we existed before a language, let us "pray."
Written Record on Repeat...of Decouplings, and Keep it Tight flowing out into the open...
...Not like it hasn't happened before. What amazes me is how an industrious avenue, guns for Huckleberry Fin like a robotic chucky. People who grew up with me and know my personality, I'm not into that empire of dirt at all. I will steal the offering and hold that shit hostage and everyone knew it, because the money, money, money came back intact. I just wanted to sit out in the sun and enjoy nature, rather than being canned tuna on that fucking pew. And yet, the family unit and the industrial avenue find it wise to have that go with me...we've all been here before. Surely nothing bad will come of it, and yet this shitshow is now on the web...worldwide, and you still want to play with my ass at work. Okay. Got it! Strike up the Honey Badger band. Let's fucking do this.
Of Fate, of Sidewalks
Thinking of sidewalks and the calico cat of love. Does it end?
Thinking of presentations that aren't so cosmetic. Then again, maybe this can be the new cosmetic. The new Marilyn Monroe. Nail the Snail. When Norma Jean dissappears among the Marilyn in the mirror... Something about her and fire....burning....A tradition underlying the facade...Machina on the freeway, oooo la la. Meat on that cross? Pictures. Framings. Strategic conversations. Holiness in the mirror. Kill her under the rug. Get these ambitious, ignorant, youthful shits to chase her the fuck out of her existence. Oedipal Delights, changing the light. Tube play. Recall the visual...
Recall the overdrive infinity. Recall give this bitch a bouncy ball. If she supports DVNO she gets a scratchcard lanyard. Worldwide baby. Waxen creatures looking so fucking warm. Quick get your teeth fixed...plastic surgeon on speed dial. We are getting it all day every day. On the rise, shining everyone out...solo on the ELEVATOR. Zebra Stripes? Prison Stripes? Recall Zebras. Zebras....Poppies for poppy. Food Stamps. The trust we build. That witch. North? Friendly on the playground? It's on? We are all just the same. Look at us; We are so friendly in the mirror. We have so much to offer. Take whatever you need. Be our guest, friend. This table is yours. This wine! She's looking great. Bank on the Firbank. Always professional. She's on her way up the stairs. Don't you want to play? Olive Trees and Ulysses, oh my!
We must control everything, if it's not literal make it literal. Blue paint to the sky and beyond....Quick, hermetic jibe and BEYOND. Flat-Line with ambition. Surround her. Everyone be on the lookout for this fire. Maybe it's about camping outdoors...we need the full exchange in the mirror...underlying, what's underlying...fixture picture it...we need to be the knower....what do you mean metaphysical...we paint the sky, there are no harmonies contextualizing space that color a realizable blue sky...no turbid hues unless we iron fist everything...we rip open the buds of our society and profess all to bloom. Stack the pawns, our youth, and the the word on her. That's how it works. Treat them in the way that helps them realize our fine fucking flat-line. HE IS. Especially if they are a pauper. Who the fuck can stop us. The law turns the other way for us. We own the law. Just keep stacking the pawns...we've got that money flow under the table and plenty of mindless flowers to sport the armament. Afterall, who doesn't want access to our grid, especially when nice-nothing gives you exclusive access to the side-sadal. To be that flip-switch winner. It's so easy to fast-track these days. They of the ancient bitch must endure. Destroy the fire. Destroy the ancient bitch. No play for her on the American radio anymore. Unless Norma dolls herself up with a bedazzled thong...fuck her. Where's Daedalus?
Of words, of power structures
I mean I don't go to the bar, nor am I in a relation...ship. You need a way to construct your ass out of the fire, so it has to happen at work, and with such a narrow window, among the needed words, words, play it's not like a group is going to finesse the matter, or successfully keep matters on the insconspicuous plan...but okay. K. K. .....K. Just waiting for more of the same smiling ass-antics. And naturally those aiming for the safehouse plan, roling decoded flows code the machine...no need to ask my name...Inc...And I don't give a damn about it, as I discussed the Irony of classism...but among all avenues it's irrational agents and rational agents, in good times going at it, and in bad times, rational agents checking out, so our not so rigorous minds can stir everything up into a hell and drop a lot of problems in everyone's laps as they strive to be the universal to all. And I'm single-house retail with no interest in an empire of dirt...so why not fuck with me. To go out of your way to sign me up on a human trafficking plan. Right. And you still are trying to have that go with all the niceties one can muster. Strike up the Honey Badger. Let's fight baby. You still want this, then by all means, let's go. You know how to pick your fights junior smalls, aka kids of corruption. We got what you are about, this so called make America great again horseshit. Like I said when it can't be great, it's great again. Like the layers of written record wouldn't trace your behavior out. Again, kids of corruption...and it's all spilling out. She bleeds, oh my! When you can't even keep it tight, there is always keep it tight pretending.
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