Reality is the Irregularity of the Past.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Depravity in Words

There’s a tremendously life-size trait that is so far into development amongst a living organism it is astounding—I find it altogether…hopeful. It shall be in this, my declaration in appreciation, that I hold accountable not wholly to my own evolution—as a product of Mankind—but to the process in itself. What is so fascinating is abrasive recoil upon the Death-date, cellular tissue’s creating and recreating themselves for a good and cause of survival. It is part of the human condition, and it is monumental!

I saw an elderly gentleman about a week ago; a week ago I say, no later was it when it was he that I saw. It was this time that I’d notice a dismal outlook toward the future of this gentleman, because he had a very non-promising disposition. He walked with a walker, and upon this walker slid the weaklings of a man; this man with a hunch, or a paunch, in his back. No doubt he was a Richard, but any name will suffice. I guess if any should do, but it is my own opinion that this, Dick, was It who flew—or crew, and crowed and scooted about as walkers must scoot.

He was an Ibis of a man, no more than two feet and four. I quiver in dimensions; that mine eye is a bit fallible, because this man was hunched, you see. This Richard, of sorts, had a raisin of faces; the fruitful Origin the must have veined so well, now had no youth left to portend. That from the swelter and through tribulations saw I, in each crinkle, a tale that so grand told of a new Funnel of time, that new bottle of Wine! And in each fold his skin did tell, of each worn hole albeit, torn through the sole of him that scooted a walker so, upon the walkway my eye did contend.

He shone like a skeleton made of dust instead of bone; the whole of ghost before a statue borne of stone. I was displeased by this sight; that grinned so grim a certain wide irony smile. And found myself in a sentence of verb confusion, and grammar skunked and styled. Oh, and I cursed at first the worst that burst, my face befell ill and mine eye upon trill, that thrilled and frilled upon that elder at Will, and I thought no man should know his Deal. I sat and I gazed upon pain and on frill, the ides of a dial and Ol’ Dick would be nil.

Way back in his back, he held to the cane; this cane that did scoot parallel to the pain. And Richard did walk as I have mentioned before—and up until now this has been under-scored. Away with a push; like a wizard and wand, a lignum of steel; a painful—a qualm.

I whistled away, the sound of displease meant for he whom had scooted away from the Tree. However, half-blind I thought with a Fish, I’d taught what I’d thought perverse in my head. However in lieu, whatever in light, I’d denounce of this man: “what a Dick with no Sand!” But before I defy all known as so Grand; a week from this L etter all weary S hall stand.

Airy and frail the cavity did swell; I fain, to say, without a stump, he’d of stumbled and fell. However the Knott that so tortured him so, became the torch that, albeit, lit of his quell. Oh, what an order of words, this fright the Dick swore; an awkward a Stork with a curse for the Shore. All of this, no matter his hand, the fact of debasement altogether for Man; this identical symbol the infants that worm, and crawl to an ending so sick and so sure.

He was and Ibis of a man so weathered and Stale; flicking the Marlboro a many no filter would help. I’d found him a weak from this date, so salty of Life. Accusing the younger so wretched with Lice; he’d had but a fit, evolving from worst; that wretched thing into this: a towering dung heap to piss! What I had witness above and be all, was a week from the first He’d no walker or Fall. So fit and, yet lame, functioning properly, but continuing Shame.

However, it was the objective cycle of things that at once I noticed. That our subjectivity in the most complex diversion, hold very little in the way of our cellular, molecular and functional growth. But however our countenance, be it grayscale to most vivid, hast a great more influence over chemical balances and synapses within our criterion of consciousness; and unconsciousness. Therefore, it is quite miraculous, thus I conclude, that in the presence of our breach into the truest of ideas, more of what was thought to be known, however true it really is, will always be that humanistic ‘bleach’ in the way of truest importance and what is trivial. As this bird-like man helped me to see, his physical disposition, only changed his physical nature; adaptability, as too, is the need for it, is physically devised into our genome by the complexity and autonomously certain functions within an environment equally delicate, complex, autonomous with the multitude of finite necessities deemed for the living, the dead, and dying; that is that in which has not yet died, but is living.

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