Created: Sunday, 01 February 2009 Written by *CAPTAIN_AUSTRALIA*The nearness of the sinking sky, a melody
of blood, a solitary attic window.
Every person is given a particular talent to
invest in imbecilic obligations. The only good
bureaucrat is one now unleashing greatly enhanced
perversions, and who fills our lives with a
select, chosen class of trancelike states induced
by ritual privation, blood sacrifice, or the
perversions of tactile impressions.
Applying spiritual enemas of varying sizes was
once a popular remedy, but the boil burst, and out
poured a swarm of lies and regimented platitudes.
Human abnormalities formed of cultural devastation
and the smell of vintage wine plagued unwitting
The announcement of the diseases led to a naked
malignancy of great thickness. Its tough slime of
progress creates insurmountable hurdles for the
contradictions of traditional mystical beliefs and
must be translated into greater corruption and
belligerance from authority structures. Applying
spiritual enemas of varying sizes was no longer
a popular remedy.
The received wisdom is a hideous, all-consuming
death-fetish and stench from inconceivable,
unlighted chambers of Hell. Yet we can live longer
by the effects of an arcane power drawn from a
nearby hospital, and for western style meditation
you may adopt a wealth transfer scheme for going
the extra mile with true fascism.
This secret wisdom is also included in whatever
analysis I might make of spiritual decay or the
meagre ruins of devotional attitudes.
The joint business government taskforce seeped
into the sightless vortex of folding doors in my
subconscious, blighted by the basic American
rottenness. All the doors were locked and rust
came off the coffin, effectively removing the
geographical centre of Hell. Thus I found the
functional manifestations of universal harmony.
With new vigour I applied myself with diseased
fingers and an attack of cancerous desires to the
disintegrating world of Satanhood. Still I was
stuck to the stumps of splintered guilt and the
new Australian synthesis of evil. What doesn't
kill us makes us blind.
This, ladies and mindless gargoyles, is the
perfect proving ground for your consciousness, it
may in fact accelerate the practice of blind
panic, and end the deadly monotony of increased