Providing the Context
There really isn’t anything to say therefore I am saying something in order to point out the absurdity of it all. Like the freight train of thought which passes through town very quickly and with a clearly defined purpose quite out of mind, the perplexity of insubordination becomes not only moot but of little consequence, desire or even, god forbid, importance!
If that doesn’t scare the begeesus out of you then the bounds of the rock to which hiding has become synonymous with pleasure is no longer functioning correctly and should be returned, along with your receipt, to the nearest trough of capitalistic hyenas diligently performing their self-assigned tasks of importance, pomp and ritual. I do hear that the cannibals down in the swamp never fear of hard times because even though the cities are plagued by the living dead, a man has to do what a man has to do. Don’t be silly and pretend that I am encouraging non-socialist idealism and that fasting is the work of the devil. Not so.
Let’s move along, shall we?
In the complex of words, thoughts and emotions there are times that nothing seems to make any sense what-so-ever. In the yearning and straining there comes to be much effort expended but of what use are power accumulators unless they discharge at regular intervals? Is business really that bad? I’ve never cared for those who stand on other’s shoulders to gain the advantage but I do understand the urgent need to recapitulate. Lofty goals requires insane minds to think, determine and churn the wheels ensuring grease is well proportioned among the standing-room only crowd. How about that for beating the bushes?
Lest some were determined to feel left out in the cold I must provide necessity in order to ensure that all sentient robots full-fill their tasks - right on up to their dying day. Do we not all perish? Do we not all partake of the time and adjust accordingly? Would it not be foolish to do otherwise?
I’m sure the symbols among the lines coagulate of their own accord and come to provide an offer which for many are simply too good to pass up. Surety of bond and of blood are one and the same but can you really tell the difference enough to avoid assuming the prey position? Fishing with forceps will only provide blunder and blight but who am I to instruct those with the fashionable concrete shoes so loving crafted through the vim and vigor of despicable men. Or is that man? Since the variety of life provides kind would it not be silly to be so single minded in approach or vector?
With the precipice comes examination but with a doctor’s excuse one can simple ‘get away’ with it. Yes, the living dead do run around yelling “can’t catch me!” all the while remaining motionless on their death bed of perpetual self importance in which the natives all run around child-like and… hungry.
I am not here and you do not see me… and it pleases me to provide the context.