Regressive posture.
Senseless grasp at infinity; watch the sand fall through the desperate hand.
Not me, but you this time.
Watching every grain spill out your seams.
The regressive posture is illustrated in a mirror.
You on the right and my condemning annoyance to the lefthand path
In past, to offer, was to appeal to compassion
In the past, the compassion was of mix integrity
Paradox? Nah, we are both doing the same shit. It is all a repetitive motion. My condemning demeanor and your idiocy reflecting mine.
This is a relatively short essay. I found it entertaining, but obviously a bit outdated. Not one for reviewing usually. Not one for remaining indiscriminate either. So I have to applaud this:
Excellent album. I have enjoyed it immensely.
It exposed me further to Hakim Bey. I have downloaded and will read his book: "The Temporary Autonomous Zone, Ontological Anarchy, Poetic Terrorism".
Just looking over the contents gives the overall impression that I am about to investigate something very creative and abstract. Looking forward to it.
