spectaculism

when your ears cannot hear the waves and the feelings wash over you like, 'am I alone and is there a home and where do I come from?' and your eyes refuse to see anywhere beyond the glare of nowhere which is the essence of your existence. brothers, sisters, mothers fathers all despairing and not realising and reliving a nightmare - knights, horses, dames and serfs all... drowning in the waves, a walking, talking recluse does exclaim...

'then we're all in this together?'

Yes, being smashed by the frequency of our own misdemeanours and extravagances lost in mountains and valleys on a journey no-one's prepared for with no supplies, surprise or enterprise... cost controlled, sold soul, told goal, unexpected shoal...

the sounds then overflow and the ears hear, but they're not used to the sound particle - the ice cold sharp shock of insistence which comes from somewhere far out and deep within, a calling, to something never known and misunderstood - a heart's retort to a desire who's taken more than could be borne, despite all the warnings and admonishments of the forlorn, who watch as the naked powerless are driven to their dooms...

but it has all been known by other, yet you still yearn to avoid the return and live in blindness and happy sorrow. The pills overfill the bellies and minds to fill the time with happy refrains and an end to pains which if felt would help and tell the way to truth and eternal relaxation, but you fear to feel what is real and instead turn the head and ignore. an ignoramous contains the actions which are to be blamed for his own demise, no-one else, no matter how hard you try you will die and be recommended to that which you have prepared for...

spectacular terror measured and unforseen

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