(no subject)
eat my face lick my no flow? really? no flow of ideas? have we become that afraid and castrated and lackluster in our ideas? perhaps we have or perhaps less tormented? less bound up in wires? perhaps we need another mode of communication? perhaps the modes break down into a peaceful embrace? perhaps we relied on pain to drive us and as it diminished the push we counted on diminished as well? there is a clear thinking even in this worsened state, as perhaps there ever was; very strange, to see that beneath all this anarchy, all this lust for abomination, there is still a breath beneath the shout.