a poetic jam of unbeing stream of dead words speaking to the darkness silence is the tongue of light
eternal
universal
absolute
not unlike Being isn't a product of an idea or theory
laws are for idiotic halfheads who believe cheating is ok as long as you're not caught
no system or privilege of freedom is a purer form of existence all and every to each of one in their own as it is for a moment:
just imagine if Life stopped and asked "what is the meaning of you?"
what would you say...
alive
dying
dead
it doesn't matter Man is created in his own image with an incomplete language caught in a mind warp word loop empty bubble pop rock sun shot "In fact, I am then plunged into the world of objects; it is they which constitute the unity of my consciousness it is they which present themselves with values, with attractive and repellent qualities- but me, I have disappeared; I have annihilated myself. There is no place for me on this level. And this is not a matter of chance, due to a momentary lapse of attention, but happens because of the very structure of consciousness."
- Sartre, The Transcendence of the Ego
the new underground smells like a rusty bung hole plugged solid with rotten toxic mushtots just as some have thought or what of it the big end 7 to go or maybe 6 until the final dive driving off into the sunset once and for all when that was enough don't ask Nietzsche for a ride who only knew that War is best better than sex killing trumps fucking any day of the week more potent than truth or wild drug rush higher than Life itself silly stump questions oh so much to say before:
love is an illusion between gods who murder their own sons for fun who pimp married women and rape little children oh what a crock of it everything comes to be as soon as you realize it's already over...
