I write nonsense.

I’m in the mood to post exposes. So ill spin a threaded yarn of woe to wow the senses. A semi-conceptual attraction of light to an occluded cortex given context in literary form. A short time ago in a small space close to your chest, a small organism lost its way. No SOS or rescue op. No multimillion, Americanized drama. A small burst of anxiety and untimely passing of a life. The absence of nothing bearing so heavily on your torso yet you feel no burden. As the disillusioned masses march through the neon corridors of smog ridden metropolises, you carry on oblivious. Yet you are the audience of the ancient coliseum. A spectacle of death before your very eyes. The demise of a blemish.

Everything seems ridiculous in the right context.

I talk the talk, but stagger the walk.

Misfunction

You can stride swiftly towards your deserved destiny while never nearing it’s storied center. You might feel you’re owed it. You might feel its been taken from you. The reality is that you have to earn your pinnacle. You are owed nothing. The pursuit of happiness is arduous and stressful, yet rewarding and bold. The acceptance of sadness is weak and frivolous. Overcoming obstacles is our fate in life. Bowing out and crying over difficulty is avoiding our calling.

I’m not mad, I’m just fucking sick of aspects of a normal day that I find ridiculously inane. Wasteful processes we go through for the purpose of idiocy and then copy in triplicate just to make sure the stupidity isn’t accidentally left to be overlooked like it should be. I’m now down for gelding the population who supports these notions to prevent them from spreading their tainted seed. Effectively neutering them from accidentally injecting their mutated DNA into my genetic dynasty. Images of the the village idiot pissing on my family tree come to mind.