Frantic multipolarity and the dysfunctional snail

I choose not to make any choices lately. I am a solemn repetitive force. Standing tall and bearing it all under my fake fur garments. I never make any sense and I have no stories to tell. I am what you wouldn't call normal. I am a discrepancy from everyday and every night mediocrity. An idiotic version of a genius - Unbeaten and unparalleled. I am slower than a snail and faster than a road-runner. Narcissistic appreciation of my absentee personality. The grandest of Buddhas and the tiniest of Jesuses. A predicament unmatched. Empty gaze through flaming eyes. Spread wings and flights into the deepest crevasses of infernal mist.
I guess non-choices are choices too, perpetuated by the yellow strip running down my back. Emphatically hermaphroditic fear factor entrepreneurship. It's beyond fear of the dark and it precedes fear of the light. A sustainable ecosystemic reef of fears burdening my soul with carved uselessness and randomicity of hardly spotted, fly-by pleasures. "What have I become" has no application within my universe. I've always been what I've recently discovered that I am and up until now falsely thought I've become. Fascinating, ain't it? Hard-boiled eggs bumping heads with snail shells. Is it all down to the calcium content after all? Loser take it all.
Earth and water, mud. Mud and fire, pottery. Water in pottery on fire- boiled eggs. What the f-word man? Basic deconstruction of one's construction down to the barebones identifies the humility of the notarized circulars issued by the man herself. Who has time to deconstruct and sort - who has time to identify and formulate the findings into the helix a spliced DNA strand? I believe this to be the case with me, or even the suitcase with me. I've become a pro-deconstructor. I am the de-constructed showcase of my work. I know me down to my toe nail. I identify every fear, every want, all lust, all hate and none of the love. I am, what you call, a specialist. Available for hire 24/7.
Don’t get me wrong reader…. actually don’t get me at all. I am not to be handled, especially with care. I ain’t fragile and yet I break into a million pieces by the sheer presence of a loving breath. I would have liked to be able to love this brave breath back… but… . Let it be friend, let it be. A solemn repetitive force, of avoiding all basic human interaction. A finely tuned systemic machine of dysfunctionality, lubricating the cornerstone of the philosophy of evermore – I consume therefore …you fill in the blanks. A machine so well trained and educated that it believes it’s free. You are as free as your shackles allow you.
Abundant resources sustaining a style that’s been promoted to life. Maitre d’ vie, those who are about to be stylized salute you. Laugh and cry, with the right attire and the right make-up. Anyone ever had the left attire and the left make-up? Wow, how deep. I amaze myself sometimes with the deepness of my thoughts. Corks of the world fear. Thus spoke malakustra. Have a nice day!