I would cease and desist, but I find my nature to be very neurotic and oppositional. Ever heard that age old expression... 'Love me or hate me, just don't ignore me'. I would bring a whole new perspective to that argument if I opened the doors. I'm just going to state that once you can accomplish all three, you have officially mastered the human race. I know this to be true through personal experiences with a supposed master. 'Tis not merely speculation. It is truth, so much so that we are all mesmerized and we are all beguiled from their actions. Personal opinion: I can't fucking stand it!!! Psyche, I'm just toying with you. It sucks to be fucked with doesn't it? I am fooled by no one. If you think you fool me, then you my good sir are the fool. It is simply the fact that ignorance is bliss to some. Superiority is another subject matter entirely. I have a regrettable habit of tending to ignore things. If something pisses me off, just ignore it. It works I know, and I'm a reliable source. TRUST ME, I AM CAMPAIGNING ALL THROUGH YOUR LOCALE. Just the flaunted fickle fact leaves me sickened with disgust in the lowest pit of my stomach.
The amount of contempt I withhold is enormous, but sleep helps to take the edge off. HAHA! Fooled again! I never sleep. I wasn't an insomniac from birth though. I blame it on my contempt for this predeceased feeling of horror, all thanks to fate... You know. The one that we think we are in full control of. Where we all think we can predict exactly what is going to happen. Wouldn't predicting the vastness be great? Don't mind if I question your views on the future. If you could predict your future, but you couldn't act on anything you saw, would you still want the knowledge? If you cannot actively create or prevent events, what benevolent or hedonistic purpose would it serve? Even after much rumination, I still find myself returning to, and transfixing upon this damn fabric. Interestingly enough is my study of the fabrics behavior, in addition to what I've learned about the fabrics strange hue... The behavior of this cotton-esque material, what I might often describe as being repetitive and deliberate. - Fabric face fucking the floor -
Feeling angry and in some strange way jealous, I begin to stab and cut at the fabric, but the fabric never severs. I use the katana, quickly being reduced to dense useless pieces, but still the fabric on the floor never severs. I try a very sharp machete, one that I thought would guarantee the kill; as my reality is comprised of only Tutsi characters... I find this stupid fabric pretty damn close to my perceptions of death, but still these sickening blakk, oops... I meant blue, fibers on the floor never sever.
Sharp objects-a-plenty, I believe this could take all day, and I just might have the time to spend; and yet, I have a question to ask that continues to badger me: Just how long is a day in your deities' time?
With a platoon of marines in the wing, we are ready to strike on command. Out of no where, I hear a scream from the audience, "MY GHOSTS ARE SO HEAVILY CLOAKED, I CAN'T EVEN FIND THEM! NUKE TEH BASES! ...DAMN IT!". - Strategic, stealthy, and spiteful - Composing thoughts in which to assault the mind, and/or to curve a person of their undeserved fervor.
I have a message to people who cannot participate in these vicious games. "Oh...I'm sorry if you feel left out. You should feel glad that you are excluded". These armed conflicts turn into tank battles, and the tank battles turn into trench warfare... Like a continuous cycle, the end is usually preceded by the first person to engage in air combat. Ground combat is often not enough to defeat an enemy, as most two pronged attacks often win wars. However, I think I may disagree. If you agree that two pronged attacks always win, you are sadly mistaken. Simply ask Vercingetorix, he could tell you first hand how incorrect you are. Attacks are usually poorly aimed, and are easy to deflect with ignorance. If you still are in disbelief, prepare to have your - brutally, bludgeoned, and beaten - body dragged behind my chariot of self-righteous victory. Even if I presently do not have the strength to overcome and claim victory. Time to improve is endless in my perspective, and with its passing I too may claim victory; granted, I must increase my dedication to unraveling the mystery. Getting close to the truths I seek...and failing, the fabric on the floor never severs.
After the battle, only dead trees of conscious remain. Victory is awarded in the form of a somber flame and silent or extremely pronounced accolades; Defeat is deceitful and intense with a bone chilling anger. However, it does not matter who the victor is, the fabric of the floor never severs. Regardless of the outcome, this is only one of many bouts to present itself in the wasteland. On rare days, as if affected in some astrological way, other beings become prone to logic, and I can easily notice the changing color of fabrics. This change is the key to understanding the phenomena, and only full attention will allow me to comprehend the methods. "If you cannot defeat your enemy, than join him. Adapt and assimilate his strategies, and then proceed to destroy him". Through analysis, I was successful in adapting onto my character; from which, the exploits were quite vast. Advancing so far beyond any set standard, I had abilities that were almost god-like. Not only adapting the concepts of gravity and light, but I became almost omnipotent. What does that mean? That means I could fly past your bitch ass in highway traffic blaring ludacris tales of death's miserable toll and predictions of your resulting suicide that should give you new perspectives. - rapturous yet relaxing relief - Floating around... the sky is peaceful, a gift I should find almost extraterrestrial. By some sort of miracle, I find myself floating into the atmosphere. Now what I really find laughable... All the others unable to move, finding themselves embedded - perceptions of perfection, permanently - attached to the disgusting dark blue color of the fabric. I have almost lost all hope that I once held, for I feel defiled at even glimpsing at my lost fixation. There it lies in a worsening state, but the fabric that is stabilized by the floor will never be severed.
Watching them become consumed, not consuming as you would think, I float along alone feeling rather alienated. I feel like my eyes should be covered, as to ensure the safety and quality of my dreams. I ignore their oblivious plight, and I proceed forward towards the unknown. What is the unknown? Everything is the unknown, but I do know that the sun is pretty fuckin' big. In that respect, isn't it the easiest thing to deify? Now that I was living in a (r)existence of only rocks and stars, can you say road-trip? With a surprising lack of impatience, I slowly floated towards my destination. Taking into account the great devices used on this giant construction yard. Treating the heavens as my own personal ocean has its perks, ya know? Ironically, I have to swim at my own risk without a proper lifeguard on duty. "Your guardian angel will save you from harm". Really? Is that so? I don't think R. Kelly can fly like I can, muthaFUCKA! Why is R. Kelly my guardian angel? Who the hell even knows anymore. I think the man upstairs has a few screws loose... I continued towards my destination: The Sun. While staring closeup at its amazing unprecedented brilliance, I was overtaken by a never-ending gale of scorching heat. These are only a few reasons why I began to question myself. I was getting closer, closer, closer to The Sun. I was almost there...
I was almost touching the surface, as sweat began to pour from every pore, impending imminent impact... STOP!!!!!
Factual logic tells me that the blaze will take hold of me, and I will not have the will or the strength in which to tend to my post third degree mental burns.
I take solemn pride in knowing that I, like no other, was able to come so close to The Sun; knowing this fact alone, I can rest with peace even knowing that the fabric on the floor will never sever.
So where to now? I can float - along and alone - my peerless forever after, but I seem to be missing something... Do I really believe I will always feel alienated? I question facts versus my thoughts, and thoughts always seem to be the victor. It is then that my thoughts displayed to me images of that 'e v e r so w i c k e d wasteland. Just the thought makes me feel almost symbiotic, simply due to the fact that I super swiftly spilled out of the heavens; too fast for most deities' eyes to even begin to process. I'm not religious, but feeling the warmth of the Sun was a grace all in itself. It was unnecessary for us to directly connect. I need not to be consumed by the scorching flames, but only to bask in the embers until they are naught. I have my simple pleasure in knowing there will always be more embers to go 'round. I honestly find myself content with this fact. It makes me reminisce at how wonderfully beautiful the whole experience was. Please believe me, as I have a hard time believing that I am content as well. I never have known what to say; to all these thoughts, to all these people, to all these questions.
I still long to come in direct contact with The Sun, but its fiery embrace shall elude me eternally. If I let it consume me, then I will be no better then those withheld by the fabric; however, in spite of all my best efforts, the fabric still refuses to ever sever.
It is only now, after this much thought and time, that I peer perilously into the placid clouds. All my attention are focused on those people, the people I dare call my associates. The one's who remain interwoven with that despicable fabric. Although, now the hue of the fabric has slightly darkened further. Not much different then previous encounters, but it wasn't the fabric which required change. I was the one that required the sense of change, and I would not be where I am now without it. Life requires a new perspective for every situation, and developing these perspectives will only help further you in your pursuit of adaptation. Beyond the filthy and grotesque fabric, lies my small group of dear friends. Ones who I would give up the glory of The Sun to reunite with. I would be a fool if I saw only this darkening fabric... By accepting them, I can only hope to lead a more conscious existence. Respecting them for their uniqueness and ignoring thoughts of their negative value. We must accept and forgive everyone... However, I find it difficult when the cynical attitude of the room is always preoccupying. Their association with me is not mandatory, similar to mine not being mandatory for them. I laugh when I have thoughts concerning free will. Nothing is free, everything requires a fee; especially when you consider the price you pay to keep the fabric from never severing.
However, an actualized individual should know when to severe. Relationships with people, regardless of so-called gender, are said to be "a dime a dozen". Fuck that fiction... It costs two pence per relationship, and their is no proof that it will be any decent, but I still neglect to severe from the bad ones. People are like that damned fabric, as they are both darkening faster with each passing day. People and this cursed degrading Fabric must be kin, as they are both difficult, if not impossible, to ever severe.
Even if I were to ever fall through into the center of the earth, I believe I would still be floating along. All these conclusions remind me so much of a paradox. One that is so simple, yet no amount of thought will leave you feeling filled.
BURN! I CYNICALLY WANT THE SUN TO EXPLODE WITH EVERYTHING FINDING ITS BITTER DEMISE!
Over all of the lands like gasoline, roar into flames that scorch even the might of the black woodsman. A funeral pyre built exclusively from some deities' own design. I watch as everything becomes tinder, a foe for the engulfing flames. Ravaging everything until nothing stands, nothing but a few rocks. Not much of a rocks either, they were pebbles at best. These pebbles are but a shallow representation of their past. Not a lot of destruction can occur when one is thrown. However, when these pebbles are gathered together they can destroy even a house of brick. Alone they are almost too small to even pick up. They require the hands of a child to grasp these small misnomers. Returning to the battlefields, similar to the shores of Normandy, like a small symbol of hope, only to be splattered with the blood of foreigners. These blood stained pebbles to be scattered through the ages, until they eventually lead an unsatisfactory end.
I never know whether to shed a tear for these endearing pebble. Maybe I should curse their existence, yet I yearn to leave my opinions at the door. In the end, the pebbles' existence is ignored and is often patronized. No one truly understands its existence, or that it even existed in the first place.
If The Sun were to actually explode, I believe all we would have is chaos. Who's to say anyone would actually survive? If we did, what course of action would we take? How would we rebuild? Would we arise an entirely new species? Would we all be able to continue living and loving...? I bet people would wonder what had happened to our humanity, and people would begin to question how long we have all been so retarded. The answer being that we all started retarded. You were too blinded by all the sights to see, you did not see the error in your judgment. Some of us have had our eyes opened, but others resist or have resisted in the past, resisting this small physical change. It is on this thought, that I declare today, "the Day the Sun was Snuffed out". Although not officially noted, the title was also given a sub-line. The sub-line being: "...bringing an end to the irony of being blind with sight".
So should I draw the line? What line? Who knows, think of your own rationalization. The moral line, the gender line, the cliche that a line is present, any fucking line!
So where should the line be drawn? What line? Are you fucking stupid? Only a tiny annoying question that I'm asked on a regular basis among the swarm. No, but I love to act it. AHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!
Did I pull you back? Where should the line be drawn? Do you honestly care what I think? I will answer you with the most amount of honesty I can perpetuate in this 'e v e r so w i c k e d wasteland...
Where do I think the line should be drawn?
- - NOWHERE - -
As such a line creates but a symbol of oppression, and thus creates only a hollow goal to be broken and exceeded.
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