Crushing Through The Curse Of These Times

Cursing at the underwhelming surprise, coursing through the course for a coarse vice, voice turned hoarse, to be denied. To reckon with the wrong ultra conventionality. The unmitigated belligerence of faceless institutions, to deem numbers on you, deeds and duties unqualified, squeeze to define your relationships in zeros and ones attempt to instil fright, now you are deemed to owe them some bones, don't own anything you own, now asking you to grovel with threat, paternalistic teat no treat death debt, no one can really own anything but respect, build my compost shovel, oust, out the drivel displaced aggressions, it will come down back on itself to hit reset. Stay your existent mental post.

You wanna fill your head with symbols while all the terms are crude to the dude? Fucken preachy prattler gossip slip pit swindle or paranoid societies gone mad to the end of fadism. The end of fads. Would it be also the demise of fab? Gab or even Bob!? A mono culture of dim wit machoist militants, worshipping the arms trade, the rat race, the boring gizmos of death. The sensationalism of tweaked out versions of burdens burn the inspirations dry, I'd be more happy to take the pain, get pissed off now, the real pain, not the fetished, drugged or distorted versions. The so called sane are non-sane so I'd rather be insane in a way that is more sane. More humane than human.

Can you scrape the surface or escape to discard a purpose? The discord, oh woe there are more and other depths, not just dreary isolation by the state and pop culture of no taste, distaste, disgust, disgrace, face off with the faceless interface. Find your own grace in your pace, that's your place. Generate each historical facet/precedent of each generation number 1's unfinished revolutions, embody as respondent to end the rat race! Smash the gossip pit, those political pundit tail tuckers. Get it wit.