Word dissonance and Sonic Youth dissonance

· Eventually humor will set in if you ride the serpentine-dynamics train and walk the edges absorbing the fringe heartfelt dark hearts. Shine on you crazy ascetic heathen. Create a true total death and dust off those eyes closed.

· It won’t ever go away completely and everything is wrong, so blink 3 times quickly you dense drone-dreamer and go west where the chasing rabbits boys go. Already can sense the dying and prepare the doors barely keeping the thought alive of head music face down.

· Strength comes from one’s own stupidity and kindness and murky no tone. The entire history of sentients dancing around me laughing and crying and still waiting for the master with three prescriptions indulgence. Combined languages visible, time is absent, it’s always the future right now.

· Cryptic-harmony paranoia increases with knowledge and awareness and nothing to find. Paranoid creative types can go to great lengths astral heights and mind travels for inspiration and motivation and moods of rebirth. There is no difference between me and you but black slaughterhouse blood soaked energy runs a slower death. Nobody cares like voiceless forms of life.

· Cesspool drama obscurity and depth of grotesque moodring melody take time to achieve. The immortal maker’s progress of opacity-in-the-profane thoughts let go. Always check the last door, those ancient dreams knew the colors of the secret.

· Don’t go where there is a lot of people like you especially by the underbelly wrong side of the tracks. Dukkha-delicacy cohesion layers like a cross carry on. Don’t know if artist as exorcist will ever come back, or even turn around. The phone is always on and in the end is self-destruction.

· The more experience you have (perpetuate myth) the farther away you get. Limited by language defined by the mad vs. free the mind – no winner. Will we end up in a world without night or day? Meltdown beyond the pale? Hints of salvation high-tone?

· Transparency only works if you’re a good person. Liberation isn’t missed. Saint Morning overdrive silver rockets feels like there is something left to do, and the devil won’t do it. Tension levels go apocalyptic and the aim of life is death.

· Be yourself contained in the mirror? Which one? – Overlords riffology? Degenerate teenage riot? Dirge bone muzzy? Some are boring but the end is obvious and abstract sights aren’t – closed eyes color filling the void psychedelic features that are not consistently vulgar – also suffering is good don’t bring me down……..

· We get defined by others’ scenester nonsense burn white hot derangement. Walk with the priest beast between the hammer and the skull. He left before sunrise deconstructing primal instinct, draining my mind numbing psychoactive life soul, imploding. Rearrange surrealism twilight squares and midnight circles.