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otiose
alone with yourself
if that is even possible
the internal narrator is somebody else no?
as close as it comes to being me but somehow removed by this few feet of viewing room between him and waking life
That small detachment saves a lot of emotional violence
apalling, disapointing
what was i expecting
expectation is like a shell for an insect
allow yourself to change your shape
the scaffolding is hope and love
death and regret
holds up unstable mountain features
boulders rain down with brimstone
the universal power's dissatisfaction
she wants to give you a spanking
like an urge to hit someone after your own shot in the nose
thats what im talking about the flesh is ultimately in charge
im just a vulnerable space alien and my body is a vessel
like the bad guy on ninja turtles
a hideous monster in a jar concealed by the cyborg intimations
that i can crush you because im like a hydraulic press, my body is a machine
consciousness is not as profound as the consequences that arise from it being tweeked ever so slight from similiar social mammals
lets be honest by psychedlic rituals
and they grow on cow shit which continues with consciousness not being so profound
that does not mean the results its confounded on society are not profound
all the limp babies that gotta eat paste because whole food would kill them
endless suffering
is there a decision somewhere?
is there a self denial or exra effort that would have made a difference?
unbelievable masses over unbelievable time periods
all the particular eddys that develop
what difference is a life
to other lifes potentially pretty massive i guess
thats kind of a stupid question
