Imperative

Low on the

It’s imperative to know where exactly you’re at, we do not live in a time where the individual can be made more by external, pandoras out she got that dumb bitch hat on high waist jeans and her mandate, or what can even be interpreted through the ground slop evicted out the mincer of like 4 different paradoxical neurosis handed down from on high, pressed upon from without, alien, inescapable, is the desire to construct for themselves: themselves, notary collection foraged persona borne of pinecones, heap up the pile, a collection of experience associates contextual consumption contrived construct reflected like 5 panes back at min from the immediate, you have to extend repeat and fold over that truth to a level of abstraction that isn’t even communicable, outside of physical pain and the gooncave any thought, feeling or emotion you may have is hopelessly corrupt, profane, a pretense contrived as paper folds to unveil the lotus-spectrum embarrassment before God - he just brought home dinner n Adam’s getting fisted with the fortnite end match screen still on cousin:

Provided an apparatus whose structural components entail an active awareness of a growingly limitless set of fundamentally irreconcilable and actively malicious Views the output is and can only be: imbecile, accent on both bs. take a stimulus, say passive media consumption, you have to realize that for a large and growing segment of the population the unbearably brief and labored for Schopenhauerian moment of pure perception is utterly beyond reach, even for a second, an over-agitation so taut that before the RGB values are even counted a galaxy of interdependent and cannibalistic social complexes awake and as god’s universe is governed first by grace then gravity our souls are stirred by void then affirmation, though matter be negative or not at all if moving it still is, and all thought race to justifica to exonerat to counter to rebut to vindic to deni to refut and finally it always ends in a fucking apology.