Aftermath Has A Strange Reflection

Swearing to the self that it could all be understood. Momentary realization of that certainty of pointlessness. Ah that is the reason that all tends to be gravy. There was this forcing through melded group-think. Its all alright. All right? This? The collections of scum in the distractions of death. The dying world accented by the giggle from the gaggle at the sitcoms. Contrived tropes guiding the livestock to the salt lick. It all takes on the aesthetic of a bad everything. So cheesy and campy. What a crock. But the restraints say this is it, sit back and enjoy. The friends created by the subconscious in windowless rooms for profit. Take that out for a second. Pro fit. It is all gravy.