Social Awareness
Torid filth surrounds the naked eye, plaster corrosion and subtle mildew embrace the lung chambers. A friction underneath the surface of emotion, a flithering plastic spatula flipping imaginary eggs. 294 minutes clicked by in a radium of philandering. Symbols scrawled into the mental awareness bubble enveloped the plethora of mental hosts. Perfect understanding eluded the general meaning but a lark full of glee hovering southerly flew past the comprehension mallet.
Trash flew forth in a eruption of girth and magnitude, words cluttered in line like a continental baggage claim and a understood laziness. The people involved in the trade were collecting their perfect images stored in leather pouches and embedded with iconography representing the continuity of their existence. Following the accepted rituals and customs of the time one ought to jump right in and grab the right package, this would of course determin the entire future course of the play. Find your partner and select a representation of your true desires.
Feeling the mental hubris of a kinetic elasticity, the sheer fruition of unadultered self-expression began a parade into the potential storage of a sing plot driven device orientated novel when in fact the gross difference revolves around subtle differences in understanding and courseway. People need to feel their own sliding scale in order to adjust their intensity in corresponding future holdages. Too many times the fit will not equal the task and the individual will crush their ego in order to become a part of the game. This is the first part of a conditioning which extends throughout our mental environment to crush any dissent and break away from the malaise of a fortune telling machine dispute.
Touch the punk of a golden child. To you and me and the justice department, excluded reality fractured environment, the prose that equals the partially embedded thought pattern. Free flowing mental jazz punk fuck the orgasm of social structures colliding, feeling tension not apparent in the middle of the weekday who else could perfect the future without a mental boomerang effect and a lot of mental disturbances.
Touch it to the future of our world and the mental interest that welcomes a bleak and muddled fortune machine who is the crushed ice machine of their destiny. Language is here, the middle frame of your grouping. Exhaust fumes are here to stay, the world is here to stay, the marginalization of social constructions. To break it out of the world and the planetary interimposition of functionality. Too you and me and the entire CircleK corporation, the hidden reality will seldom expose itself for fear of prosecution just like you don't piss outside on the windows of your favorite resteraunts.
Talk to the humanure, find the realizations and truth that lurk inside human shit. The malnutrition of our soil stolen from the grasping environment, we extinguish the potential future while our waste goes to waste. Burnt broken bottles of frozen plastic waste remains. Foolery, and Tom the disco dance machine. Too much time and not enough disco dancing. Social lacerations and junky foam.
Yes indeed, break the routine, grab the flow of your heart and slide into a electrical existence. Break it out and sink your teeth into a juicy manilla envelope. Griddle cakes.