Primary resistance at a critical low.
The musings of the euphoric creationist continue. Taking a sip of sebaceous acidform with less sugar than should be integrated into most malformed treats; the continuity extenuates it's grasp into aforementioned musings.
Inserting a gnarled finger between one's teeth and wrenching useless epidermal sheddings, he sheds light on a path thought about much, but talked about nary. A Kenyan once said he was a wise man, a Dutchman once laid bare his soul for her to reap, a wandering soul gave up all she owned to validate his prowess in the field, and the cycles resumed; the revered reaper of all that is transient intermittently reflected on what taken, and what given, sorted through the mess and established the many names and faces into palpable form.
The wise man was one who knew the limitations of others far before his own, and dictated their actions with due superiority that came forth through an expertise shrouded in mystery; juggling logic, faux emotion and playing the sophistic spiral, he entranced the audience with prophecy, all bearing action advised would come to fruition... And it did - Painfully so. The logistics bared down on that man, though; spreading himself to thin, he regressed into an infantile state of unbecoming ego, bolstered by deeds considered good from the warped masses, yet without his own ethical sensibilities; he'll crash tonight, alone until they call out; only to shun them in response to what they've given back.
She, however, was more a mayqueen than one in power; something to be obtained, an object of worship on unfair grounds; her availability, yet indiscreet walled protectionism captured his heart and tore at his mind; he was a lesser, a mere shadow of a kind soul who fell into dirty business; a reflection of the poster girl of suburban sickness. Manipulating his every move, she pried open his mind, infested and raised it to the ground; he thought she'd never leave, as foolishly idealistic as it was; was just such a pity that she was never there; unless one would to be counting spirit, foolishly.
Though the vilification he spewed in slipstream around her seared with the fervent vitriol of a mind awry and self discontent; she accepted his flaws and took him begrudgingly under her wing, her mind racing with inward abasement all the while. His love for all around him in working form was naught to the destruction he wrought under the private analytical eye of himself - Once more, she accepted, knowing forthright that it would eventually destroy her goodwilled acts of generosity and kindness she so had finely crafted within her own pseudoethical policy of karmaeic justice. And karma saw fit, as she always does, to chastise her ignorance with his prior dammed belligerence; she was washed down and blown asunder for her folly; he thinks nothing of it; how could he?
The acid under his tongue whitewashed the names and faces he'd committed to his very own skin, and he lay back to watch the universe unfurl his machinations, only to see them play into his hand, just as it did before.
Just as it always would.
Inserting a gnarled finger between one's teeth and wrenching useless epidermal sheddings, he sheds light on a path thought about much, but talked about nary. A Kenyan once said he was a wise man, a Dutchman once laid bare his soul for her to reap, a wandering soul gave up all she owned to validate his prowess in the field, and the cycles resumed; the revered reaper of all that is transient intermittently reflected on what taken, and what given, sorted through the mess and established the many names and faces into palpable form.
The wise man was one who knew the limitations of others far before his own, and dictated their actions with due superiority that came forth through an expertise shrouded in mystery; juggling logic, faux emotion and playing the sophistic spiral, he entranced the audience with prophecy, all bearing action advised would come to fruition... And it did - Painfully so. The logistics bared down on that man, though; spreading himself to thin, he regressed into an infantile state of unbecoming ego, bolstered by deeds considered good from the warped masses, yet without his own ethical sensibilities; he'll crash tonight, alone until they call out; only to shun them in response to what they've given back.
She, however, was more a mayqueen than one in power; something to be obtained, an object of worship on unfair grounds; her availability, yet indiscreet walled protectionism captured his heart and tore at his mind; he was a lesser, a mere shadow of a kind soul who fell into dirty business; a reflection of the poster girl of suburban sickness. Manipulating his every move, she pried open his mind, infested and raised it to the ground; he thought she'd never leave, as foolishly idealistic as it was; was just such a pity that she was never there; unless one would to be counting spirit, foolishly.
Though the vilification he spewed in slipstream around her seared with the fervent vitriol of a mind awry and self discontent; she accepted his flaws and took him begrudgingly under her wing, her mind racing with inward abasement all the while. His love for all around him in working form was naught to the destruction he wrought under the private analytical eye of himself - Once more, she accepted, knowing forthright that it would eventually destroy her goodwilled acts of generosity and kindness she so had finely crafted within her own pseudoethical policy of karmaeic justice. And karma saw fit, as she always does, to chastise her ignorance with his prior dammed belligerence; she was washed down and blown asunder for her folly; he thinks nothing of it; how could he?
The acid under his tongue whitewashed the names and faces he'd committed to his very own skin, and he lay back to watch the universe unfurl his machinations, only to see them play into his hand, just as it did before.
Just as it always would.