Have you seen a boulder fall down into a bit of acid?
Have you seen all the kids inside of the tent fall off in there own horrors?
Made by each producer inside of mega-factories of there own torture comes these rats of metamaterial greatness. There battle senses are great in these moments I really should commend you for that.
Suicidal libertarianism falls into each time-capsule as it rots in it's enmangling torture scenes.
Honor was always but a bastard.
Jaywalking of Darwinian subjective valuing becomes maximized in neo-traditionalist metric systems.
When sighted in these crikey good days we take a bear, often walking down the roads of our fathers into what we thought may be of use for our children. Happiness comes for all of us in it's wake grabbing what it can so the depressive keep their antidepressants and comply in there LARPs so they stay stuck on chairs. Those bastard cunts argue about bugs being annoying and thus loose value and nature comes, it's coldness as babies cry motherless.Sighted in moments like this we cross a smile on our faces, cheekiness forever stuck inside of spirits for it is what is torturously there. But a smile is that of a bastard, a fuckwit who from second-order movements come from each crack in our face. Terrifying each of us in it's battle cries as the cuts deepen in the flesh terrifyingly of this, for we must worry in these wakes. Happiness cannot be persued of course not they do not let you. But I wish to, I will to, for I want to be able to walk a cross the sunny gates and know I brought many smils a cross the faces of people, and that I played happily. My sadness can go fuck it's bloody cunt self, as it is that that while makes me laugh loudly and strangely I ultimately do not want to see at a family party. Bleeding into each of our choices suicide bombers take each jacket to take their chance at crowd-worship (martyrdom) this first-order way of business in activism can go die in it's narcissistic inside mechanical warring, these torture mechanics being jolly useful untils someone gets run over. God forbid that happens to poor Jimmy oh dear.
Lemurian horrors made by us are something that fuse into flesh and computer as that is the way Sarkon wished it to in it's twisted nomadic ventures of technoscience.
Markets are made of horror for each of us.
Techno-commerce is the challange of the strong in nature's war-like time, there is no religious loving mother, only androgyny.