Slaughterhouse Blues In Late Summer Sun

Thoughts going on in head reads like thoughts eliminating thought for the purpose of channeling that with another form of peace,


Simple thoughts of cursed pigs rotting, swine carcus in late evening sun when the only flesh remaining to feast are the flies who drop their offspring like tiny bombs slowly, slowly bringing to life the dead and that which is left with nothing but hair, teeth and claw.

 

The only real purpose is to oppose the non-real existance of the bare flesh floating in the breeze for the sake of nothing more than nothing at all.

The true drama is the only result of the overall experience when the underlying sense that it does not exist is proof that it does.

The orgasmic sting of one on top of the other pulls pleasure from the very real sense that when it goes against the wall of nature the puke pours forth like an uneven rain.

The other side of the coin shows bare the ass of hope with softness and a personal grace the other cannot share without a moment of grief.

 

In the end when the rest occurs the obnocious sense of overall despair becomes the purpose to regain and refuel again for the sake of continuance of the orgasmic experience.

The trick is told the end result of nothing at all besides the inevitable death of first the pleasure and then the pain.

It all adds up to a mountain of thoughts of days dead and pleasures had when the sting of the orgasmic experience becomes a shrine of once again.

 

So the next time someone tells you that you're out of your mind thank them for the compliment.

I would much more prefer to be out of my mind than in it!

 

But one can re-fuel as veggie, it need not cost a life. But even as veggie or any beings we are, life is just eating, drinking + waste the next day in a never ending boring cycle to keep our physical form alive.