he art of sleaze Vol. 1
Sitting in front of the playground, Sun glasses black. A head poking out the passenger side window. A van sits idling big and proud.
All the girls give me the oddest looks.
"like some candy?" I ask.
"Wiskey?"
why does no one want to get into the van?
What ever happend to people sense of adventure. Am I not a gentile and demure creature. I value life just as much as the next nihlist.
Of course I am not exactly sure what would happen if someone actually got into the van. I still havent got my rope back from that certain special someone. I ate all my pills last week and I need most of my social lubricant for myself anyway. And yet, the willing are not as few and far between as one might imagine...
Spring time hangs low and wet in this fair city. The future represented as an ageless and sinister divorced alcoholic cub, vicious sharp and just my size. Deja Vu. If only I had remember her name, things could have been different. But I can not but help to be an asshole. A polarizing figure who enjoys the animosity of his actions with the gidy glee of a child running wild. Why? I do not know, the pleasure of pain and the power of anger must be my engines.
Sometime I am saddness. But read between the lines and the story is a far cry from all that. Never listen to what words spill out of this foolish blowhard. Words mean whatever the populist propaganda has told you. Chaos disease, torment, death fear, God and war. Violent minds think alike, but rarely agree. Strings of forms of ideas that are created only within context and can easily be ripped apart with simple observational techniques.
Control comes from narrowing the focus of conversation on the things that were not said.
Memory is rarely elusive, but the truth always is.
Never agree with someone unless you are trying to give them an ego boost.
Admit defeat only when trapped.
Remember that ideas are always a metamophasis of thoughts.
Thoughts are subject to interpetation.
The human observation is merely a preception.
Everything can be manipulated. Even you, human.
Luckly nothing is simple, judgement is always impaired and i still exist.
Get in the van bitch!
Sitting in front of the playground, Sun glasses black. A head poking out the passenger side window. A van sits idling big and proud.
All the girls give me the oddest looks.
"like some candy?" I ask.
"Wiskey?"
why does no one want to get into the van?
What ever happend to people sense of adventure. Am I not a gentile and demure creature. I value life just as much as the next nihlist.
Of course I am not exactly sure what would happen if someone actually got into the van. I still havent got my rope back from that certain special someone. I ate all my pills last week and I need most of my social lubricant for myself anyway. And yet, the willing are not as few and far between as one might imagine...
Spring time hangs low and wet in this fair city. The future represented as an ageless and sinister divorced alcoholic cub, vicious sharp and just my size. Deja Vu. If only I had remember her name, things could have been different. But I can not but help to be an asshole. A polarizing figure who enjoys the animosity of his actions with the gidy glee of a child running wild. Why? I do not know, the pleasure of pain and the power of anger must be my engines.
Sometime I am saddness. But read between the lines and the story is a far cry from all that. Never listen to what words spill out of this foolish blowhard. Words mean whatever the populist propaganda has told you. Chaos disease, torment, death fear, God and war. Violent minds think alike, but rarely agree. Strings of forms of ideas that are created only within context and can easily be ripped apart with simple observational techniques.
Control comes from narrowing the focus of conversation on the things that were not said.
Memory is rarely elusive, but the truth always is.
Never agree with someone unless you are trying to give them an ego boost.
Admit defeat only when trapped.
Remember that ideas are always a metamophasis of thoughts.
Thoughts are subject to interpetation.
The human observation is merely a preception.
Everything can be manipulated. Even you, human.
Luckly nothing is simple, judgement is always impaired and i still exist.
Get in the van bitch!