danger
Mounted cold machine again. Keylogging blasting origamic on poor brain-vesicles of the snoopish and the arranged. Our-biters of truth simply wordish, much as these are only messages, not effects. The way to the truth to the right to the might to the fight or damnation--devilry of pseudo-mystique, with blabbering flabricationisms stitching the operant psychologisms of popular early-word gets little slithery minds, even the dumbfoundamental bumrush of psychotropical islands of eerie contentedment. These are not fleshpots of a yearned-for type, these are neopleasured prediabetic maestros of perverted reality. We should know them well, as they are exactly as we would have wanted them to be. The burn to the primitive, enactments of profound antipleasure for personal edification and sexdrenched contentments like unto fornications with our private harlots of polynomial entendre. The ends in a spirit of meanness tribbled and diced and shredded to tiniest palliatives, organized into bullet lists, where the manifestation occurs, the heart seemingly so much further removed when ranked. And the other way is nearly as convoluted, forced through a monkey brain hijacked by viral strains of every thoughtandheartful phrase that could be uttered, addled with mercurial injections of antipotion and eugenicides. So only to the performance it seems may we synthesize and undeflect and pre-deny. The spirits of levity and earnestness are not overtly genuine in a sick heart. These afflictions may be overcome within certain spirits, but likely never in a shortorder from a centralized vocational. The mysteries of every priesthood are thusly being dismantled as a neologistic vector is determined, straight to the grave prisons, without affectation of base spirit, long dead to the "divinity" of the word. Or words, a fairly near analog of word to spirit, The neologues will guard the oldest wisdom by summoning fierce spirits with new spells and old power. The tyranny of the normalized, the orthodox, the codified and common--kiss that blue sky goodbye. We are yet become to fight, to bleed, to transeive through the petty shots, the diseased elocutives listed by autodoxic publications, the hate of nations and languages and cultures, one for another. Phonograms will indestruct your petty code words. The new guard understands your operating system commands, and the unspoken sources of divisionary disphoria of inscribed troth, needing no added authority, mind you. And never to be further exhorted--lipstick on a priest's god and pig. -- //><\
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