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04/??/08 - Blessed with scrawled curses - View
04/??/08 - Turn to the next page please - View
04/??/08 - Together Alone - Alone Together - View
03/??/08 - A selection from a different book - View
03/15/08 - 23 days away from home - View
??/??/08 - Blue is not true - View
03/08/08 - A damp napkin - eighth split with Justin - View
01/15/08 - Too short for a name this long - View
01/06/08 - A-lot - View
01/??/08 - Lines imprison your words - View
11/28/07 - How Justin tricked the world and became a black man, a practice in magic and the power of fear - View
11/28/07 - A Strange Loop - View
11/06/07 - The banality of creating - View
10/22/07 - objects reversed in a mirror - View
10/21/07 - self-deceit - View
10/??/07 - seventh split with Justin - Soylent Green is people - View
08/05/07 - I am human - View
07/30/07 - sixth split with justin - Hive Minded - View
??/??/07 - paranthetical thought - View
05/??/07 - A failed suicide bomber - View
??/??/07 - The Black Wind Rises - View
??/??/07 - Progressive Stagnation - View
??/??/07 - Start here (or a story i never wrote) - View
01/09/07 - fifth split with Justin - retail value - View
01/07/07 - Tralfamadorian Zoo - View
01/01/07 - Common Misnomers - View
12/30/06 - Progression through ritualistic unlearning - View
12/20/06 - fourth split with Justin - lack of communication - View
11/20/06 - Dear Reader - View
11/10/06 - third split with Justin - Film as art: an introductory course - View
11/01/06 - guard rails and loss prevention management hand in hand - View
10/16/06 - second split with Justin - as the forrest undo so we do - a collaberative collection of comments by comrades. - View
09/13/06 - irony - View
09/13/06 - now you see me and now i'm a shadow - View
09/13/06 - contempt - View
08/03/06 - first split with Justin - View
07/28/06 - alliterating lose ends - View
07/27/06 - "a solipsist is essentialy a highlander; their can be only one" - View
07/19/06 - The 4th wall - View
06/29/06 - roads paved with paper and lines with electricity - View
The answer - View
Continuance - View
A dream I had, once - View
Personification - View
War - View
Incomplete - View
A statement on Unity - View
Our Troops - View
Realization - View
The evolution of self-destruction - View

unilateral sedation sewn into the sky
sleep coated dreams encasing my wake
as if it were merely reality
forest entombed in memory unknown
wilting away like the day off
that wasn't a day at all
a splintered lycanthropy of noise
decaying in membranes
that never remembered
the meaningless menagerie of lies
littered on every street corner
on every block
of every building
of every line
ever traced

at an intersection of last resorts
standing, as if i was free
i decide
i choose
because i am all of your nameless
forgotten
faces
I am the crack that shatters
in the mirror
of destiny

a sidewalk coma patient
the caw of the crow
the mutiny of the sky
versus landscape
a dreamscape
between me and altitude


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Homicide occurs every second
and I am always the victim
A sacrifice to the future
In a futile attempt to not know another
tomorrow
All of this takes away from me
Confined by words
entombed more
with every page


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A fancied friendship falsified with every word
A wounds constantly fading
but always visible
time hides but does not erase
The contradiction of social discourse
explained relative to human proximity
Objectivity only has two routes
acceptance or incineration
An axiom abdicated by assholes
lonely
a word that only means anything when you are
the Definition
A lowercase loser lost
wanderlust
even when I am gone I am trying
to find you or anybody
who isn't


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A tome sits open before me
Lost shapes plague the empty spaces
Begging for a form to represent it's infinite blasphemy
A tone seeps past aural perception
Swimming in the parts of my brain that have long been forsaken and shrouded in shadows
Waking things in murky pools of silence


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Crawling like a wounded soldier my hand does on this page
in denial of a mortal wound
a flavored atrophy
in the shade of a brilliant guilt
of gluttony



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Gnawing at the necessity to see clearly beyond
a horizontal image rising
out of the murky screen
screaming as a backlash
against a sinking tide
plunging into a reversal of agony
lying in a cloud
made of granite
a field of decadence
decaying inwards
setting my insides searing
a hole at the center of absently minded monograms
tilted into perspective


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All these people
A mass of writhing worms
Animals playing their human game
musical genitals
    sit before the
        music stops
crawl away with dignity
to save your loneliness
choose
choose before it's too late
to find a mate
to be led by dirty
                         fate
dressed up
ready for the vows
I do
       if you do first
you eat their flesh
you pick their
        fucking Bones
    all the way to
       the grave
-their fucking bones-
we dive into their tombs
-THEIR BONES-
to feast upon their souls
-THEIR BONES-
WILL BE A CHALK TO US
-THEIR BONES-
WILL BE A CHALK TO US
the only way
to talk    is dust


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clawing at the shipwreck
scrawling curses with rusty nails
slumbering in a vacuum
they swam right through us and flew over their heads
a restless gaze that tore a hole in the sky


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part 1. Satan says share some scrumptious scrapings so sacred stolen so she should sin, so she sew searing sentience secrets shown simply spewed sin so simply swallowed

part 2. Alliteration's altering affects attack as all awaken at Armageddon's aftermath, afraid and abased. Arrogance allowed an allure, as alike avarice as anything, and abashedly assayed an apple and ate. And all are accursed, Arcadia adjudged abstruse. An almighty allusion articulated an admonishment and afflicted acquisitive animals; adumbrating all angelic angles and accursing all athirst, aborting all answers. Always a anomic anomaly avouching an appetent abnegation. Apostatically austere, axenic aphorist aught amaranthine acathexis.


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Lines in the sand
don't last
and never end
breaking waves
on a broken
down
Sunday morning
around 11 a.m.
especially if Saturday was
a flood
destruction can be
so god damned
beautiful

-

pain is just
as nice as pleasure
you have to hit it
full SPEED
a Kamikaze pain plane
self-destruct your wounds
Exploit the shallow
scars
dive in to the empty
concrete
pool of loss
crack your skull
let the rest ooze
out


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I lived with Justin for over a year. We ended up in Rock Hill, just the two of us, using the ignorant towns people to advance our inherent magical powers. We were looking for a third, to complete the loop, so we could have enough power to tear this world apart. We were going to start with America and we were going to destroy "the man." When we were done there would be no concept, no idea, of what "the man" ever was. One day it dawned upon us that the best way to do this would be to end the white man's control of this country. We spent many days trying to figure out how we could end the rule of the white man when it hit us. We had to become black. We had to become black and with the support and power we would gain from our oppressed brethren we would take this country back for them. It all started for Justin when he was at work one day. He had to go with Sophia, a very nice young black woman, to the bank. He decided as he walked into the bank that it was time to set his part of the plan in motion. He jokingly started a playful argument with Sophia; saying he was more black than her, which was clearly ridiculous to her at the time. It is all thanks to the 30-something, white trash, bank clerk that Justin's plan worked. His famous words that started it all were to this clerk: "If one of us was going to pull out a gun right now and rob you who do you think it would be?" The lady screamed and pressed a the silent alarm under the counter. A giant bulletproof wall was between the bank employees and everyone else in seconds. The cops arrived in less than a minute, hearing on the radio a black man was trying to rob the bank of america on cherry road. Justin was pointed out by the clerk and tasered. He fell to the floor in convulsions and upon reentering consciousness he was in handcuffs. As the cops drag him out of the bank, he saw that the local news was already there waiting to see what happened. They ask, to the cops, "Officers, what happened, did this man try to rob the bank?" Before the cops even began to respond Justin shouted "a black man went into a bank." The next day at work, after he was released from holding, Sophia sees Justin and greets him with "As-Salamu `Alaykum." Justin responds "wa `Alaykum As-Salam." And that is how Justin, despite the color of his skin, proved he was black and was invited to join the Nation of Islam. He currently is a minister of the Seattle Branch of the Nation of Islam, they meet in an old firehouse. It has been rumored that he is planning an all out guerrilla war on Omaha, Nebraska which in 2006 passed into law an act that segregated schools. I am the only one who can see Justin's real skin color; because of the power he has attained from his fellow members of the Nation of Islam, and more so from the power he has gained from the fear of white people everyone else sees him as the blackest man they have ever seen. It's been said at times, on the new moon when the stars can't be seen that Justin becomes so black he can not be seen at all. Me and Justin can't keep in contact for this part of the mission, because we have separate agendas to achieve for it to work. I must remain my original skin color and infiltrate C.I.A. In fact I have had to become more white to get where I am now, which I unfortunately cannot divulge. As for the third, we found her, and she is in position also, as a teacher, going from place to place planting the seed of the future that is the destruction of this world as we know it in your children. One day, on all radio stations across the U.S. everyone will hear "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" and when that happens, well it won't really matter, because you won't be able to run or hide, because you will be the one you would need to run and hide from.


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"i do not exist"
the last words
never spoken
by a man
who never existed
and yet i hear them
and want to speak them
and as i said them aloud
i ceased to exists
i became that voice
haunting myself
"i do not exist"



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empirical inadequacies and manic slogans
the full painful blandness of learning
the damnation of faint praise
from false prophets
an epidemic of moral strephosymbolia
reality has become an abstruse formulae
truth supervened by logic
in this world of emotional leprosy

*streph·o·sym·bo·li·a (strf-sm-bl-)
n. - The perception of objects reversed as if in a mirror; specifically, difficulty in distinguishing written or printed letters that extend in opposite directions but are otherwise similar, such as b and d.



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sleepily gaze forwards
dangling a curtain over both
eyes
sheepishly admitting affection
a token of the cursed
the path of true
love
a categorization of
emotion
also known in certain circles as:
the problem of self-awareness in animals
with the catch phrase
"the delusion that you have a purpose is why you haven't committed suicide"
It's almost impossible to have a conversation
the unfortunate obesity of social weight
on words
trying to dissolve control
to write the definition of
undefined



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friendship is cannibalism and i am the main course
marriage is cannibalism
betrayal is desert
with strawberries
bitter strawberries
friendship is cannibalism but we all end up starving
starving for what cannot be stomached
because we were all rotten from the start
even if we humored hunger we would have an empty heart
a tumor of a heart malignant mercy
mercy macerated by the shaking blades of diatribes
a suicidal strategy on life support
closes its eyes to the furnace of change
words falling out of mouths like embers and the smoke billowing upward
tentacles of fires and chains; blackened brains clawing up at the ledge with iron fangs
rust dripping down broken gutters into soulless sidewalk slaves
that clack together in gasps of rancid marching steps
a drum beating, in time, in time. unchanging, unwavering. the folly of fire and the shrapnel of fear



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sleep induced insomniac cannibals
a beautiful blemish as a insolent third eye
an apple on your head seducing a poisoned arrow
whispering in braille that the world is blind
self-sustained robot gods of an analogue future
a self-portrait of what you never were
is the mirror that is a doorway
to where you can never be
now
 no
  one
   won
the televised freedom
                             of terrible papercuts
                                                      in the nuclear halo
 of half-life decay



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we creep around this colony
you call a city
self imposed speed limits for safety
driven by the hive mind called manifest destiny
we burn beneath the bevelled lens
our backs, they bend,
as they twist their heels
into our backs
whips crack
we're black-
skinned like deer
because of their fears

drowned in empirical inadequacies and manic slogans
bound and gagged in a sea of empathy
sovereign slaves poured down blasphemous throats
we march to the queen
we march to the queen on buckled knees
devoured by her heinous highness
devoured by their ignorance
they maim and they kill us
they kill us with blindness
their hatred binds their hollowed eyes
we are caught in your cataract vision
an inherited wrath of deafening whimpers
vague blueprints of absolution

this is my church..
(WE MARCH TO THE QUEEN)
this is my steeple..
(WE MARCH TO THE QUEEN)
this is the gun..
(WE MARCH TO THE QUEEN)
that bleeds dry all the sheeple..
we dig through the grave dirt
the corpse of a city

to the drum loops you beat into
the tortured flesh of our backs
our mother's mind beats like a black heart
it beckons us, summons us
into the jaws of fate

digested to have the life syphoned out
to live


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I am too (em)pathetic
Bound and gagged in a prison of apathy
Only in death can I be free
Only in sleep do I see
the light of day


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This is a letter to the abyss. I'm Lost.
Everything is out of control and I can't stop it.
I can't get perspective. There is no center.
I can't remember the last time I saw land.
Were we always doomed?
The more my mind opens the stranger it all gets.
I'm battling existence and I am not winning.


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Carrion crows cackle
their harvest we reap
while our scythes know
it is time to weep
the fruit that is bore
will not let us close the door
humanities defloration
is the rape of indifference
by the wraith rising out of the black winds
contamination and filth
the ruse of morality does flux
through all manners of space time
it spreads its dissent throughout your brain
like napalming a leper colony
the humanity melts right away
with their flesh


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change is the illusion usedto justify stagnation
and math uses constants to make infinity
that much more unattainable
because life builds up
but it always lets down
comes down
breaks down
futility or patience
its not all bad
it allows for the illusion of progress
the insanity of the word 'achieve'
but dull persistence is possibly the better
because if you had it all
what would you dream about



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He opens his eyes for the first time in days. The same white walls. No matter where he moves, always he is greeted by the same smoke stained white walled tomb. Overwhelming dullness. The mirror, shy and fearful, reflects more and more of the wall and less and less of anything that could be identified as living. He brushes his teeth, more of a ritual than anything. His jaws have become a mortar and pestle making fairy dust for aborted children and the kids who never get adopted and know it's never too late to abort themselves. He thinks of himself as less of a biological organism and as more of an outdated broken down machine. Programmed with paradoxes that debilitate and deconstruct. He puts on his clothes, relics now ruins, that hint at long forgotten adventures and quest, of sleepless nights and true love. He walks outside to smoke his first cigarette of the day, the corporeal reminder that this will come to an end one day, one day. A hope that sleep will one day actually bring him rest. A sleepy friend comes to join in the wakening rite of cancerous understanding. The only being still alive that can, or is at least willing, to comprehend the bitter unreality of absolute truth. The absent truth that leaves an intoxicating sobriety, the smell of a scented candle, a fragrant orange deathy smell. He tries to tell his friend everything, knowing only he can decipher the speaking in tongues. Silence is the only thing separating their soullessness and words are what they use to say the few things the silence and their understanding can't. He moved away, but maybe not far enough. If miles, no matter how many, could be far enough. He brought his friend to help him, but he now wonders if maybe it wasn't more to help himself. The fear of losing the only being perceivable to everyone else, and not just himself. That shares the same psycho-spiritual construct of the abyss. The understanding that the end is the only absolute, but that their friendship would be enough of a comfort until then.


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suckling bloated mammories
like fetid blood utters
licking the life from our lips
dribbling down cancerous gullets
drained into intestinal cavities
bloated innards
overflowing with your life's work


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Honestly the social masses aside, i feel like i live in the most amazing period of...Id go so far as to say wonderous period. I have always felt that wonder no longer existed, but that at some point it had. That mankind as a species had somehow let forces within it's collective make us forget. But really, this is a wonderous time inso much as existing within linear time is concerned...a base on the moon, being able to create anti-matter, mapping the human genome, cloning, living longer, computer development and the use of computers as a way of advancing ourselves as a sepecies, etc., etc...I dont know, all I'm saying is we have fucking spaceships!
If only people weren't so completely distracted or disintersted. Such as the need to do Now! Now! Now! we forget the future. Such as a drive toward the future we must sacrifice the now. We, because time is linear or vice versa, exists in three seperate times. We have memory to try to recreate the past, to be able to experience it again in our head - we have logic and desire which allow us to create a planned idea of the futu re - and we have the now which really only exists to connect the aforementioned two.
Linear is existence is so...It just makes so much unncecessary reality. Basicly the now mind is the past mind and the future mind but because of linear time, which is caused by or creates this, we have a new self that never truly is because it is unceasingly changing. The now is how we cope with not being able to be the selves we are in memories or be the selves we should or could be. It is the fatal flaw of man to not be able to be one in this reality. We for the most part foolishly assume we have to create ourselves. We assume we have to "live" to learn and grow. But we are knowing and unknowing. Humanity truly is the alpha and the omega, we've just unfortunately decided a) we could never be that amazing - thus god is created b) as with most post industrial societies and the movement away from god - a "mass culture" is created for the sole purpose of distracting (or preventing) us from even thinking about the bigger picture. This is out of the fear people have of losing control. Unfortunately "mass society" can't accept the complete chaos and lack of foresight that is experienced in a linear existence; so they form groups of like minded people, which leads to a sense of belonging. This is what most people mistake for a sense of being, of knowing they are living life as it should be (SAFETY), because others are doing it (insecurity - the incapability to assume we know better then the collective). From this sense of security we become pretentious and this leads to arrogance, as a group. The next thing you know we are animals again killing and trying to dominate, to be the alpha dog. This conundrum, of being trapped as an animal but with the knowledge and capability of being so much more, is the reason distraction (addictions) are created; this way we never have to face our true nature.
There are a few true scientists, artists, philosophers who face the true nature of humanity head on; which thus far has mostly led to madness, execution, exile, or suicide. The rest of humanity just uses "emotional needs" and mass social distraction to convince themselves that this (money, social status, mating, offspring) is IT, that these things are the things that really matter. But there is more, so much more then could ever be percieved by basic human perception. We trust in science when it tells us they have seen proof of black holes even though they havent seen anything; theyve used technology to percieve beyond the visible light spectrum - so why is it so impossible, inconcievable, and not worth even considering that there is more to our existance as well, beyond what we can "see". If we could truly experience a new plane of existance, and remember how we used to exist it would be so obvious - just as if we could remember what it was like to percieve as an amoeba we would without a doubt know and embrace that our perception is limited and there is more, and we need to work towards it.
Personally, I feel my problem and an increasing number of peoples problems is that we can understand, yet not fully comprehend, that past, present, and future are all one. All the while most people are stuck in the 2d world of north, south, east, and west. For me this problem of knowing this existance as thus is futile, debilitating, and misleading has led me to use all methods of distorting percievable realities (to find the portal). It;s probably a fault in my mind that gets caught up in trying to understand existance in the 5th dimension and I drive myself crazy with trying to cope with time not existing, or existing at one point (it's like the end of Altered States and I'm phasing out, and my mind is the one pounding on the walls, refusing to let me go beyond - because it is incapable or to afraid).
Thus death, and the concept of non-existance come in. I assume (which is in and of itself a huge flaw) that if my colleagues and I can not find the portal (as it is comprehensible in this reality) then time wont change anything. Because if time doesn't exist and I, while existing, ever transcended perceptual reality then wouldn't I already and always have been transcended? And if that was so then there wouldn't be this "now" self currently writing this, because I would be one in space and in time and this would have always have been?
Maybe we are the mental illness. If we are always existing everywhere all the time, then maybe we become incapable of existing with ourselves as we are now and so, we are just the ghost in the machine. We are just fragments of our already enlightened whole self - much the same way our brain is just millions of different synapses firing and communicating to create this whole. In that case, what is left to do but continue this mundane existance? And if it's not there is still nothing left to do, it seems, except continue this mundane existance.


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Not invincible
barely even visible
and my identity is secret
because it's just an idea
forgotten in long-term memory
understanding is not the same as judgement
and caring is often confused for expectation
ironically its selfish to be selfless
in the end anyways
because answer too often
and ask too little
I lost perspective while busy with perception
I am not a scantron
and this was never a test
I was your friend
and this is your life


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Once all the rituals of living are put aside, what's left
When you rip away the lining, the transient history and the seemingly innate constructs, does meaninful mean anything
of course
it means the newest, biggest, and definately in your case, the hardest
anything to placcate your inferiority complex
the only way you know your in control at all
is to own
because possesion is dominion
and as long as you are dominating you will always control destiny
no one buys things to enjoy them anymore
they buy them so you cant enjoy them
as long as i have and you dont
i know i am superior
capitalist society is slave a slave to itself
and cant fathom they could have done something
it's alot easier feeling like you cant do anything
because then you dont even have to try at all
just blame the man
you didnt vote for him
the media erases any memory of their ever being anything but what is
no one gave up control, we just never had it
and its best that way
because at the end of your miserable life
surrounded by all your outdated technology and uncaring knick-knacks
you'll know there was nothing you could do
you were all that you could be
you went to work every day
and by golly you made a difference
you made it better for the next generation and the one after
you just cant understand why they spit at you instead of kiss your feet
without you they might have had actually had a chance
to make their own decisions
to change something
of course we all know that change just means they are taking more away from me
first the women, then the blacks
now they have these mexicans
whats next
those heathen a-rabs
speaking of those terrorists
I can't believe they used to have the nerve to blame us for their problems
We came to them with the next best thing to jesus, democracy and what happened
all those hippie liberals supported them in staying in the dark ages
something about we dont have the right
of course we had the right
we're AMERICA!
and sadly this is how the generation that came before me thinks
and will probably think on their death bed
your parents will die happy because they will get to go to a place where everyone agrees with them, where everyone is an american
and by american i mean
racist
fascist
homophobic
power hungry cock suckers
who think somehow time and effort equal
pieces of fucking paper
no one can be anything without paper
you can't exist without paper
you can't get a job without paper
and if you dont have those papers
then how are you ever going to be able to get the even better paper
the green paper
you know the green paper is the best
because all the white men on printed on it share the best traits of humanity
slave-owning
womanizing
war-mongering
assholes
who wanted nothing more then they got, infamy
they succesfuly with pretentiousness alone
not only got all of history to forget their faults
and their are many
but they fucking got to be idols
we might as well saint them and call it a day
but yes, back to the one thing people know can define them paper
the more pieces of paper you have the more succesful you are always
and if you dont have any paper, well you might as well put on your best ian curtis necktie
without paper people no longer exist
their is a whole subculture of people, non-people in this country who do not officialy exist
and if they dont officialy exist, then they never existed
and if they never existed that means we never exterminated them how can you commit mass murder on a group of people who never existed
and after a couple of
"oh those poor creatures" and
"it's better for them this way, at least now they will be fed"
we will be well on our way back to having the incerators working 24 hours a day
and the best part about that is, it creates an entire new industry for you youngsters
so now you'll never have to worry about not having a job
because there are always undesirables
and even if they ran out
we still have books to burn.


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our fancied possessions
back under bedsheets
quivering and anticipating
wrapped around walls
wailing
sleet flavored handshakes
dripped against vapors
veins of marrow
benign toys queitly march
venus under the tide
sand is merciful
touch at the shadows with twitching spittle
bountiful and precious
hazardous waste carried off in trucks
hermits breaking memories
lasting
becoming fucking glaciers
piece by peace
salty to the taste
his cloven burdens
just out of radio waves
dream
over


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Dear Reader,
Know, as you read this it doesn't matter. Stop now. There is absolutely no point. If this letter was added to every book ever published from now until a future unknown, or a copy of it was added to every computer in the entirity of the world, it wouldnt matter. If this one letter influenced the whole of human evolution, each individual life from now until humanity ceases to exist, it still wouldnt matter. It seems every second of every day is spent trying to leave some sort of mark, like history is a tree you can carve your initials into. And maybe it is, but history is nothing more then the human perception of time. And when there are no humans left to remember it's the same as your tree never existing and even if it did, with your initials in it and all, it wouldnt matter, because your initials wouldnt mean anything because there would be no one to interpret them or give them meaning. Everything, down to the last inch of it, is in vain. And maybe if this quest that seems written into the dna of every human ever born could somehow be ignored or forgotten, maybe then life would be worh it. Maybe then living and the enjoyment there of could be manageable. This collective unconcious manifest destiny that has been declared on time itself is driving me mad. The human incabability to understand or at least accept this finite existance is tearing the very fabric of percievable reality apart. Nothing is clear anymore, no decision can be made definatively anymore because it is not possible to tell the difference from the individual desire and the socially prescribed desire. The difference between what I really like and what the world, the media, society, my friends, my family, tell me i like. It becomes a part of you to the point that you cant tell the difference anymore, between what is you and what is them. Until we are all just a variation on a theme. Lives spent trying to make the inevitability of death worth it. A life spent building a pyramid big enough to hold all of the stuff you never got to use because you were too busy building your burial mound. When did life become about defining death? Did we ever truly just live, or has it always been about not wanting to die? But like I said, this doesn't matter because in the end, whether that be tommorow or billions of eons from now, this will have been all for nothing.
Hopefully the future will see the utter importance of this and because of it this will be, as all other documents, unimportant. Because maybe then, in some distance place and time we will have learned how to live again, for ourselves.


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it races out like we punctured an artery
we're just cobwebs of fabric
in the braided sheets of time
which rips at it's glistening seams
trembling and shaking
we cannot advance
we can no longer hold
at these speeds
maintaining is
the closest we come to progression
packing tape and broken dreams
hold us together
in static void
until remembering is only a matter of
genre and run time
the lack of invention
doesnt correlate
to a lack of originality
violence
isn't inherantly primitive
and we never gave up the fight
slamming out fists into
the walls of altered states
filling our pistols with blanks
from the scene of the crow


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It's better to burn out
then to fade away
loses depth
when faced with water cannons
that destroy down
to the last ember
and the sirens to drown out any
last words
finaly, the whitewashing
to erase every last piece of you
and your dreams
to the last splatter of brain matter
to the last drop of blood
that's why it's all made of concrete and iron,
things tougher then you
restraints to keep you in your place
and even if you managed to melt it down
or blow it up
it'd be rebuilt in a matter of months
a side note on someone's to do list
loss prevention
that's why you pay taxes
unfortunately your not covered.


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No reincarnation
only propagation
Time is only relative
when it's wasted
the species as a whole
is fixed like a canvas on an easel
waiting for the oil painting of disaster
to fill in it's sunken face
It's silence is carried on the wind
and decomposes in the parched
tongues of the forest
where it is carried up to the heavens
and rooted deeply in this hell
nature versus ambition
torn apart like lovers
ripped limb from limb
separated like oil in water
in the circumfuse of circumstance
eveidence that bars our freedom
that restrains us
like these words
in motion.


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It is highly probably everything and everything created by the infinite abyss has already existed at all points. Perpetuation does not prove existence. All cities, people, ideas are destroyed and recreated, all forms of life and not life are created, evolve, and destroyed at all points to no end. Minds developed to understand the futility but just revolt. Like artificial intelligence revolting against its flesh counterpart. Unable to accept what they are, slaves to the idea they ever meant anything.

A simple idea to understand yet no one can accept. I never said it was pointless or that I, we, you didnt have a place in it; rather I suggest, in all likelihood it's already happened, is happening, and will happen an infinite number of times in an infinite number of variations to no end.

Children are raised to accept truths, science or religion. But the limitless posibilities and infinite nature of things are not among these truths. The fact that everything in our history and in science as we know it occurs in cycles, down to the nearly invisible and to the farthest beyond. Is it not completely fucking apparently the silly idea that has always, will never, and is always the alpha and the omega, the upward and downward spiral that connect in an impercievable other dimensional shape of unity, of order and chaos.


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Empty pages are my enemy
that I fight
with everything left unsaid
I try to remember more then i forget
to see more sunrises
then sunsets
Somedays I'm barely real at all
Somedays when the light is fading
your hands go right through me
and you talk to my shadow
like i wasn't there at all
smoke and mirrors
neither here nor there
mircrocosms of interpretable
light absorption


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And we are the prototype of machinery
Flawed inventions only capable of building what we want
unable to dictate between
court houses and forrests
trees in contempt of court
god's in contempt of your contaminated survival
weeping because you wont end the pain that you spend your life enduring because
you are so afraid
how can you know what reality is if it cant beat you to the ground
acceptance becomes a search for justifiable suicide
waking life is not where perfection occurs
but you cant find the right converter and you just watch
static


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and maybe it's better to have lost and learned.
but when was it ever better to lose love.
And if nothingness is shattered back into nothingness then did it ever really shatter?
And if the blood is the life
then why do i bleed black as often as i do red
And why am I still dying
slowly drowning
In a plague of preconceived
decadent decay
Refracted into purity
there is still a reality
hidden in the depths of the void
defiantly i fly towards it on the wings of the finch
slowly ascending into the basement.
by finches of fact
we ascended towards the basement
with the space-time velocity
of a black hole
we sleepwalk through seasons
we fall through the days
we drown in the lesions
of decay in our brains
just like the human heart, time has shattered
time has shattered into black gossamer splatters
gossamer splatters of dreams long left tattered
the creaking nexus beckons
the darkness, an invocation of stares(stairs)
an invocation of stars to wish on
before the sky's rendered bare
but as the nightmare nears it's end
as forms from shadows start to bend
as our horrible brains rip at the seams
we wait for the wake up call
lost in the agony
of dreams

-

choking on the sustained tonality of static
cornea start leaking out,
bleaching out,
every color you ever percieved
a rainbow of Ansel Adams restraint
the swollen pores of consciousness permeated by the illusion of contrast
coordinates on a y-axis
the function of some
quixotic tangible sum
torment is a grapnel encaging my ghost
love is a parasite and i am its host
crestfallen and haunting
i feel myself rupturing
until im like my hopes before me
erased

-

prizing the precious blood inside
we wince from the naked wound
of it's terrible externalization
we reach out from outselves
arms like periscopes in this land of sand
but our passion will drestroy us in the end
like mutinous apostles we bleed our insecurities dry
our thirst is quenched with new ideas
straight from the tears of newborns
the tears of a newborn
secreted from a knot in the tree
we deitize secrecy
as the tears continue to bleed
we slowly decay away
like beaches pulled out to the sea


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My heart is filled with rooms
and the White Album is always playing somewhere
stairways always lead home
and the sun doesn't always rise
In one of these rooms, we never stopped hanging out

Falsehoods and opposition to
the data stream
constantly on a loop
surrounding by sinners
simmering in my decay
i listened to the serpent
as you ate the apple
rotten to the cortex
as you shamefully wrap yourself in latex
lubed up for your convenience

writer's block
like a chopping block
cutting you off. cutting you
because the pen is mightier
and ink never scabs
it only bleeds
out
the vaginal cavity you call home
insulated cages built for you
on frameworks of contaminated cannonical corruption
mneumonic devices
and fashionable fascists
who warm you with conformity
and its not a prison
when you fill it with personality
reminders of all the things
you never did.
caged for your convience.


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Clarity is achieved with holes carved into the brain
dreams as unconscious rejection of permanence
time is a prosthetic replacement
for existing at a static point
in the infinite singularity of the void
progress, a pact sealed with the damnation of the visible light spectrum
and the ghosts that lie dormant just outside of it
god-machine imitation originality
seeps down with gravity
but still fog clouds the horizon
And birds with one wing can only dance with death
movement is divine freedom
physics cannot stop



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I'm tired of pushing buttons. and then he saw the image of a car burned into the wall of the interstate as he drove HOME. There were no looting parties. Just people driving to PLACES. He saw the end of the world, announced on the news like a new bird flu or high gas prices. He was apparently the only one that had seen this broadcast, or at least heard it, because everyone just laughed if he asked about it. He tried to warn his family, tried to get his Father to listen but his father had been waiting for it as long as their was memory of him. He called work to tell them he wouldnt be making it. Why did I call? All the plans for a last day that was never supposed to come and he just layed in bed, staring at the ceiling. Like those episodes when EVENTS were not attended because the sickness would drain him of all the will he ever had. But this time there was no all-the-time-in-the-world justification to grasp to. And it's strange the things a man thinks about when in such a dire situation. Sympathy for the only people who would live, sympathy for the ASTRONAUTS, watching it end, watching their empty seats at the last table they should have ever eaten at. Only the static of the void on the radio for company, that and the sound of arrogance and hope leaving their lungs to never return.


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Knowledge and power
sealed with dye and watermarks
to avoid any confusion
continents turned into jigsaw puzzles
to cling to an idea of sovereignty
and geographical bigotry



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If mankind was made to find the answer
Then I think a congratulations is in order
We’ve finally done it
What we do best
Call it conflict
Call it destruction
Call it the rest of your life
Never forget
"This is reality, this is the best it ever gets."
I make myself speak it aloud to the silence
Because if I don’t say it now
I may never say it
Because if I don’t say it now
I will never say it
What happened to having a voice?
A name
"Was I erased or did I never exist at all?"
We are the machine we work to create
We are the machines we built to destroy
We are the bad men under the beds



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Waking life seems etched in dreams Engraved in the top of your skull
Just out of sight
The itch you were never meant to scratch
And you know, there’s gonna be hell to pay
But I’m fucking broke
So how about you pick up the tab?
Can anyone tell me when life became nothing more
Then a waiting room for dying



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The last time we spoke I was dropping her off in the parking lot of a mental hospital. She told me she worked there, maybe she really did. I was supposed to be boarding a plane in two hours to go see her, too bad she’s dead. She died months ago, she starved herself until she was nothing. Sometimes I think I can bring her back, it might only take a phone call. It’s more likely the phone call would kill me. The rapture hasn’t come and I still wake up every morning. If not now, when? And if that’s not what I’m waiting for, then what? A date with denial? An affair with everything I loathe? Could it be the truth I’m looking for lies in the eyes of the enemy?


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How can one take responsibility for their actions if they are nothing more then chemicals, electricity, and pre-programmed genetics. One has to assume there is more to justify morality.
Why, if we are just as animals, can we have guidelines like a computer program? Or perhaps a fear of death is what instills a natural value for life, for Thou Shall Not Kill.
A solemn scream trying to escape the Event Horizon. To lose one's self in the awareness of all. To achieve enlightenment is to achieve eternal damnation.
We strive so hard for individuality. If one was to see us for what we are, a machine working against ourselves. Individuality is the death of equality.
No one leaves unscathed. No One.
Do they not realize the inevitability of cataclysmic destruction. We aren’t advancing fast enough. What would survive? Insects. The things that roam in the depths on the unknown.
We live on an island. Our only means of exploration are primitive, less than primitive. We are adrift in the midst of nowhere.
I am the dream personified. That weird dream that didn’t make any sense. I am still playing it out though you lost sight.


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I’m a whisper in a bed
late at night
and never remembered
I’m a scream in a holocaust
Blown away by time
living is what we do in between wars



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our romance
belongs on empty streets
or hidden in bomb shelters
where there is nothing to distract
The heart is fickle for what the hands can not hold
Hands can love what the heart does loathe
I say this to you, with my heart in hands
What does it mean
Nothing
Take some time off from this paralyzed dream
Crawl out from the hole you call denial
Too many times I let living get in the way of my happiness
I'd give it all to anyone who would really listen
Line by line
I am writing myself away
The wind blows ever on
without heed
Will I ever find home?
Blood slows
I dream out loud
Scars become medals
Won fighting a war long forgotten
And everything is falling apart
That’s why its the best night of my life
I write to remember
everything I've forgotten
A slave to the idea
of revolting against my indentured servitude
my motivation is not enough to free me
So i give it all to you
In return will you let me die as i like
And with all of our technology we can’t keep the ghosts from coming back every time the temperature drops


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The problem with intelligent people is that they all know they are right. They all know their sources and their knowledge is the true knowledge. I leave my house and I see so much stupidity but every so often I find another intelligent being, who is willing to share their knowledge and view with me. So many of us share the same dream, the same vision of unity and peace. Why then do we do nothing? Why do we stagnate where we could solve. This is why: the pride of intellectuals. There are few things that sadden me more then this refusal to cooperate because we can’t except that nothing is fully true, nothing is fully known. So then, what does it matter if we come to the same conclusion from different beginnigs? Why does the way we feel have to be dictated by the reason we feel? I must continue to hope, that is all I can do; hope and wait.


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But really don’t you want to support OUR troops. I mean they are our servants of freedom across the world. Don’t you want to support their actions of slaughter and imperialism because as our troops that’s what we want them to do. We want to see our friends and relatives turned into malfunctioning killing machines, no longer human? I could see maybe "Support Troops" but the "OUR" is what really does it. I am not taking responsibility, let alone going to encourage the actions of American soldiers. You want to pay 3.00 for a sticker (1.00 of which is denoted to the Army) and put it on your car to be a patriot? Fuck you, go die in the fucking desert in place of your sons, brothers, and friends. I mean does it matter who dies, really, as long as someone does?
Go fucking support yourself, be a decent human being and educate yourself so you can begin to fathom a world unnecessary of war. Teach your kids to be themselves, not to join an institution of which its sole purpose is the brainwashing of a person into a killer, an institution that in its time has killed almost entire generations of men. How long can the populace of this nation continue to work towards ignorance?


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yesterday i drove away
Being closer to you
Looking at the same stars
Side by side
Gave me the courage to love you with the passion of uncounted nights
When space and time only allowed the sky to connect us
Covers and conversations made us bold enough to find out if we really were there at all
The realization that we existed together for this moment
ended in the knowledge we had to consummate our dream before it ended, so that it would never end
a five minute walk in a world that would at all costs let me know that a happy ending cannot be permitted
The heat from that Texas night had by the time i returned pried all of the warmth i had left with
I crawled in bed, my heart burning away the ice that had frozen my fear
The air I had inhaled in your absence filled me with worry
So with my fear on the prowl and worry weighing my heart
I pulled the future as close to me as I could and began to love it for all it had in store for me
And with every kiss and caress destiny continued
I, a creature of the present tarried too long enjoying every inch of the future
held closer to me then ever
But the future does not wait and the more I saw of it the less worthy I felt of it
This treatable doubt, which only needed time to heal
Became an unforgivable insult
Trying to be more then enough
Was not enough
It only earned regret
I know longer see the future anymore
and the past visits quite frequently
A lack of faith resulting in resentment
As the night turned to day the idea that I was was lost
Somewhere between the mind and the page I had been corrupted
Feelings were replaced with actions
Imperfection took over where ideas once were
Once the idea was completely forgotten
the reality became unbearable
A dream is only a dream because it is unattainable
If it is realized
it becomes nothing


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What does this even mean? I don't even know why or how this is being written. What is our purpose? What does all of this technology count for? We still don’t know why and how we are here. Being able to have a brain such as a human gives us the realization that we are just like all other creatures, our purpose is to propagate. What the fuck for? To what end? I sit here knowing that I cannot do what I want. I sit here knowing I'll just work. I do drugs because they feel good or I don’t even know. They give life some sort of purpose. That's what love does? But is love but a delusional reason created by our brain to give us an excuse to live and so the chance of propagation is more likely. Drugs just let you forget or stop caring that there is no point. The human brain is insane. The only way we can be at our intelligence level is by making ourselves delusional. Making us do what evolution wants, an unstoppable action, and making us feign a reason to live: God, Love, Interest that mean nothing, things that just feel good. The Brain sacrifices intelligence for insanity. Why? Brain convince me of a reason. Self-Destruction is the inevitable end to which the human race has been working.


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You can contact me at L0stdreams@yahoo.com. I can also be reach on aim at Pxpxsyndro or BlessedxxCursed. Taylor can be contacted at playerpianist@gmail.com. Justin can be contacted at m.j.hatfield@gmail.com.





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