Blood spilling from that lovely throat
I can't hear your gargled words but I think it is "kill me please"
I wish for less, devoted to hate, another meaningless passion
Rage for rage, power for power
Collapse every idea into folds of origami and set them beautifully aflame
Tormented, withdrawal is a bitch.
I have nothing more to write about. If I repeat myself forever I can never change and that is what life is about.
True human perfection is achieved when continually striving forever to be better is the only goal of life. I strive and slip and fall back into old holes I spent years crawling out of. Depression is much more than a desire to die, its a self imposed impossible barrier.
Someone said "I don't like angry music because it makes me feel angry and I don't like being angry."
I dislike anger but the need for any emotion is the drive to keep it. Without my passion suicide quickly turns into an accident easily avoided. "If only he hadn't of walked off that ledge..."
Mysterious...but not really sometimes the bullshit we feed ourselves is worse than the shit we eat from others. "Your ideas are offensive!" Well if your own ideas are self-destructive, self-loathing, miserable hatred. "It is my pleasure."
Limits. Its why I strive so hard. I discovered long ago that if you keep pushing something and pushing something you can reach a place few have achieved. To often we give up thinking that there is nothing more to experience not realizing continuing on would lead to bliss. Its life sometimes so pointless but not depressing. What is depressing is despite its pointlessness we strive to apply fictional meaning. Placing dollar bills and trivial things into our hands proclaiming its value and greatness. Yet we fail to recognize the truly great thing in life is life.
For a world greatly lacking in mystery we need more than machine and fantasy. We live and breathe false reality setting straight everything we need to achieve being "happy". Your lies are lies and revolution grandeur destroying every remnant of old concepts and false ideals will yield a chance of hope. What if we have no hope, what if there is no reason. What if there is no chance what if we cannot exist. What if this is all we have and self destruction is our destiny. Maybe in some far and distant future sea creatures of "intelligent design" will find our ruins and our ashes and think "How primitive and dumb, they destroyed their environment, killing themselves for money that no longer matters. I wonder if they ever loved, anyone?"
I can't hear your gargled words but I think it is "kill me please"
I wish for less, devoted to hate, another meaningless passion
Rage for rage, power for power
Collapse every idea into folds of origami and set them beautifully aflame
Tormented, withdrawal is a bitch.
I have nothing more to write about. If I repeat myself forever I can never change and that is what life is about.
True human perfection is achieved when continually striving forever to be better is the only goal of life. I strive and slip and fall back into old holes I spent years crawling out of. Depression is much more than a desire to die, its a self imposed impossible barrier.
Someone said "I don't like angry music because it makes me feel angry and I don't like being angry."
I dislike anger but the need for any emotion is the drive to keep it. Without my passion suicide quickly turns into an accident easily avoided. "If only he hadn't of walked off that ledge..."
Mysterious...but not really sometimes the bullshit we feed ourselves is worse than the shit we eat from others. "Your ideas are offensive!" Well if your own ideas are self-destructive, self-loathing, miserable hatred. "It is my pleasure."
Limits. Its why I strive so hard. I discovered long ago that if you keep pushing something and pushing something you can reach a place few have achieved. To often we give up thinking that there is nothing more to experience not realizing continuing on would lead to bliss. Its life sometimes so pointless but not depressing. What is depressing is despite its pointlessness we strive to apply fictional meaning. Placing dollar bills and trivial things into our hands proclaiming its value and greatness. Yet we fail to recognize the truly great thing in life is life.
For a world greatly lacking in mystery we need more than machine and fantasy. We live and breathe false reality setting straight everything we need to achieve being "happy". Your lies are lies and revolution grandeur destroying every remnant of old concepts and false ideals will yield a chance of hope. What if we have no hope, what if there is no reason. What if there is no chance what if we cannot exist. What if this is all we have and self destruction is our destiny. Maybe in some far and distant future sea creatures of "intelligent design" will find our ruins and our ashes and think "How primitive and dumb, they destroyed their environment, killing themselves for money that no longer matters. I wonder if they ever loved, anyone?"
givememedicine:
Maybe I'll be re-incarnated as a far and distant future sea creature. I'd like that a lot.
