Lost Dreams part II: Freedom

 

He ran as fast he could, across the frozen pavements, through the white forests and over the icy hills. He ran as lightly as the birds in the sky and as freely as the wind. A chilling breeze swept across the lands. Finally! The burden had been lifted off his back and he was free at last. He ran for perhaps twenty minutes before he stopped to catch his breath. The wind felt cold on his face and his body began to hurt, but such petty things would not get in his way. He sat down on the frozen grass and took several deep breaths. He inhaled the very essence of freedom and was finally content with life.

 

Something, however, decided to disturb this wonderful state of mind. A monotonous vibrating sound emerged from his pocket. He knew what it was, or rather, who it was. He knew what purpose she had. As he picked up his phone from his pocket, it stopped ringing. The screen showed: 7 Missed Calls and all of course showed her name. A name he had grown to loathe and despise beyond comprehension. He knew exactly the way things were. She had, though slightly surprised, been otherwise completely indifferent to his departure and if she would have had it her way, she would have left him out here in the cold. Her conscience, however, forced her to act. She was of course far too lazy and numb to actually bring herself to do anything, other than calling him on his cell phone. She was perfectly content with sitting there, in her warm sofa, dialing his number and ”hoping” to get an answer. Yes, he knew far too well how it would play out. She would tell her friends how she worried and how she cried. She would say that she had stopped eating and sleeping for his sake. He of course knew that she would not cease to do anything. How can a person, who has slept all her life, suddenly wake up? No, she would sleep more than ever. He knew this. Again the phone began its murmuring song, and he shut it off.

 

The cold became unbearable and he sought refuge in a local coffee shop. His wallet was almost empty; it would barely be enough for one meal, but oh what a meal. He ordered a big feast (at least as big as he could afford) and enjoyed it thoroughly. After he had finished this first meal as a free man, he drifted off in thought. He let his mind visit several different places; both places that existed and places he had created. He visited several memories and dreams. He remembered her, and how different she was from his furious warden back at home. He remembered her soft gentle face, and how fragile she had been. How vulnerable. However, he immediately disregarded these thoughts as he knew that she long gone, something of the past, and that all that had been between them was nothing but a soothing memory.

 

The hour grew late and he was forced to leave. Once again, he met with the frozen world outside. He knew not for how long he could manage in this condition and began, for the first time, contemplating the hopelessness of his situation. Then he remembered him. His friend. He, who had stood by him through thick and thin. Yes! He could call him and ask to stay there for a while. The cell phone made a little squealing sound as he turned it on, only to find that the bloated beast hadn’t ceased her, oh so stubborn, dialing. He clicked the red button and found the number of his friend. Just as he was about to call, however, he began wondering how this would really play out. He knew him and he knew that calling him was nothing but folly. He was not a friend of harsh times. He was not one to be counted upon, when in need. He was but a friend of the carefree times, and there was no way that he would accept a free man in his home. He smiled cynically, as he realized that in reality, he had had no friends, and he laughed at their stupidity and how they thrive in their cages. No. This was not the way to go about it. Yet, he couldn’t stay out in the cold much longer. He ran, this time without any cause or direction. He let the winds carry him forward, as he was blinded with hatred for this world of cages. People in the area started to point and whisper. He did not mind. He did not see. And then, at last, he fell exhausted to the ground, and before him rose a great building, which had been imprinted in his memory. He lay before her house. She was his last remaining hope.

 

He let his mind drift off, once more.  He thought of that night, when they had kissed for the first time. He had loved her so dearly and with such depth. It had been a warm summer evening that could only have been described as perfect; it was as though everything had played a part to form this blissful memory. Oh how he had loved her! The scenery within his mind altered. It was dark and it was raining. They stood looking at each other. He was crying. It was the night when she had told him that she would leave, never to come back. She had told him that he had meant nothing to her and that she had “too much on her mind, right now”. She had left him standing there, alone.

 

 

 

This had happened two years ago, and during these two years, hope had begun to grow within him, once more. Despite his fear, he forced open the door and stepped into the building complex. He made his way up the cold steps until he reached the door, labeled with her precious surname. He knocked twice on the wooden door.  Fear and hope began to merge into one strange emotion. He took two steps back, as if he readied himself to flee, should that be necessary. However, he discarded this strange fear as ridiculous and once again returned to stand immediately in front of the door. This walking back and forth would continue for some time until it was brutally stopped by the clicking of the door knob. He stood before the door, expecting both the best and the worst, as the chaos within him became even worse.  The door was opened, and a instead of her wonderful smile, he was met with the frowning face of a man.

 

The man was tall; probably several inches taller than him. His long dark hair was spread casually over his bare chest. He was only wearing boxers and it seemed that he had been asleep when he had, oh so thoughtlessly, knocked on the door. The man’s face, although drowsy and annoyed, seemed genuinely kind. It was the sort of man you would expect to be helpful and good-hearted. He felt it pointless to resist anymore; he hated the man so intensely. He despised this repulsive hippie standing in the doorway; he was deeply disgusted by his casual appearance and it seemed nothing stood between his fist and the man’s face. And so, even before the man had gotten a chance to ask what purpose he had, knocking on his door in the middle of the night, he crushed his frowning face and ran away. He hurried down the stairs, breathing deeply. He tripped and fell, only to get up and run even faster. He smashed open the door and ran into the woods; those beautifully free woods, which would hide him from his enemy. He sank into a sort of daze as he lay down to rest on the icy ground.

 

It was still dark when he woke up; however, the world seemed to have fallen into a solemn state of silence. Not even the sound of the wind could reach him. Finally, he succumbed. He understood now how naïve he had been; to wander off like that. Hah! His place was with his warden at home. There he was safe and warm, never having to worry about food or sleep. He started walking back, still ashamed over his brutal defeat. He thought of what he was going to tell her. Various speeches began to form in his mind, speeches, in which he would try to profess a genuine apology. He hoped to be able to conjure tears to give more credibility to his, oh so, humble regret. His thoughts were once again interrupted as he looked up and saw that he stood but inches away from his home. His beautiful, comforting home.

 

Just before he reached for the handle, thoughts began to swirl in his head. Thoughts of how she would react to this shameful return. At first, she would hug him and cry, and everything would be “great”. Then she would tell him what a “bad boy” he had been and she would never let him out of her sight again. Hah! She would take so much pride in his defeat. It would literally nurture her very soul. Oh how she would hiss the flag of her home, confident in the fact that nothing could resist its temptations. His hand began to move away from the handle. He finally saw why he had left. He finally understood.

 

He turned his back from his former cell, walking in a slow, peaceful manner. He was completely at ease now. Nothing could stand in his way anymore, for he was a free man. He reached the bridge, about which he had had so many dreams in the past. After a moment of looking across the beautifully darkened river, he jumped. And as he fell, only one thought remained on his mind: Victory.

 

 

 

 

M.A.O

Strolling down memory lane.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-

Memories of the past...hmph....No such thing.

Bring oneself up. Push oneself down.

I have been dead for a while now and I do think that my revival will not take place anytime soon. I shall indulge in meaningless somatizing in the mean time. I must try to be productive, however. I shall never surf the immobile waves. Now..I have a lot of trivial shit going on so adieu for a while

in the mean time, listen to Rush-the fountain of Lamneth

adieu

euphoria! Complete and utter happiness.

Is it though? Can one truly enjoy one's current position, knowing what lies ahead? Can a man, though surfing the highest of waves, ignore the abyss before him?

I wonder...

In essence, we are all what we are raised to be and all our realities are subjective...

are they though?
I ask the deities within me, the God inside my head. I ask Myself.

The primals wear me down, those wretched daemons of the past. They have gained an equal, or even higher credibility than the Young ones, those of the mind. It is Humans vs Bacteria. The pinnacle of evolution still so vulnerable to its first children. Mind and instinct, man and bacteria.

This self-perpetuating circle of self-assuring pretentiousness is bothering some, I feel. However, I am far too numbed to think of them. The forests will echo with laughter.

I salute the eve that lies ahead. In a party of four we shall reach those, once so appreciated heights and we shall forget! Goddamnit, we must forget.

Hope is abolished, replaced with the will to explore

adieu....and I am high on mind-produced drugs right now so I realize that I'm not making alot of sence, but trust me, there is a meaning to eeeeverything(said in a Gandalfy manner)

It's super effective!

anywayzz, here goes da boomer

The Comfort of Home

The heavy gate slammed shut and let forth a trembling sound infused with a divine wrath, which stretched back to the very birth of time. They marked the end of an era. They marked the end of his life. Nothing would ever be the same again.

 

He lay naked on the gray, desolate rock that was known as the “Outside”, with nothing to guide him but the light of his memories. The cold stone carved deeply into his flesh, tearing great wounds into his body deforming him further. The wounds were fatal and he knew that the end was nigh. He could not muster the strength to scream nor did he feel the urge to do so. He merely closed his eyes and welcomed his inevitable fate, as his mind drifted off to the blissful memories of his past; to the comfort of “Home”. He remembered looking at them through the windows. Those, whose world he had now inherited. They had wandered this perpetual rock without direction or cause, and they had all worn an expression distorted from pain and anguish. Some, however, had made their way to the other side; they had conquered the vast mountain, climbing unfathomable altitudes. Upon these, the Gods had bestowed their eternal mercy, and they had gone on to live on the other side. However, this was a very rare occurrence and the vast majority of the populace was left to roam the lands for all eternity.  He remembered pitying them. Even hating them for choosing a life in the Outside as opposed to the comfort of Home, for he had indeed believed that their fate was a product of choice. And now, he was one of them. He knew not how it came to be that such an orthodox man as himself was left to suffer this ungodly fate. However, he realized now that death would not free him from this world, nor would it ease the pain he suffered. Death, amongst other luxuries, was not permitted within the walls of this dark hell.

 

Blood poured out of the numerous wounds on his body, as he attempted to stand steadily on his feet. They were beyond healing and it seemed as though, judging by the amount of blood that had left his shivering body, his veins should have been emptied long ago, but for some reason the flow would not cease. At last he managed to stand still. The pain was unbearable. He would have screamed and cried, had he been one of them, and he took great pride in the fact that he was not. If one does not deviate from the mass, he figured, how does one accomplish the impossible? He began studying his surroundings, familiarizing himself with his dark cage. Behind him was the gate from which he had arrived. It stood there, in a resolute silence, as if though it knew the immensity of its task, and it was clear that it would not succumb easily. As he studied it, feelings of unease began to grow within him and he was compelled to look away. Apart from the gate, there existed only the enormous mountain, forming the impossible task he was about to undertake. The people he had seen through the various windows in Home were gone. Dark figures walked now where they had walked. They were lifeless shadows, rather than human beings and their forms were impossible to define. They were, however, still moving in the same mindless patterns as their predecessors, walking around without purpose, without cause, without the hope of ever reaching the summit of the world.

 

He had climbed for several days but the summit was still beyond his range of vision. The wounds had yet not healed and it was solely his iron will that had enabled him to come so far. Despite his fierce resolution, he could not withstand such incredible amounts of physical pain, and thus he fell to the ground. The little strength he had left faded away. As he lay there, in a puddle of his own blood, something appeared to be moving further ahead of him. He could barely discern the shape of the figure until it stood right above him. Two strong arms pulled him up from the ground and he was asked to take a seat. The figure turned out to be a huge man, wrapped in pelts from several animals. His feet were covered in huge leather boots, which seemed to protect him from falling victim to the edged ground beneath him. By his side rode a mule, so heavily encumbered by various objects, that it would have been crushed, had it been under normal circumstances. He recognized the man a merchant, a sight not seldomly seen in Home, for it was in fact littered with merchants trying to pass on their worthless objects onto the naive citizens. Finally, he did as he was told and he sat down on one of the two chairs that had appeared in front of him and the merchant followed his lead. After a long period of silence the stranger opened his mouth.”Welcome”, he said.

 

As the mysterious stranger told his story, the atmosphere began to change. The words that he uttered held such a majestic force, that it seemed they had the capability to alter the very fabric of space and time. Profound changes were affecting the Outside and the newcomer knew that whatever they were, they were for the better. The air grew thicker and gentler, and the world itself turned into a rather hospitable place. The sky was affected as well; the previously gray and apathetic clouds that had lingered over the mountain dissolved and in their stead shone a great golden sun and as the merchant proceeded, he found himself no longer trapped in the barren world of the Outside; great walls surrounded the world and he noticed that instead of simple chairs, they were now seated on grand thrones worthy of kings. The mountain, which had been his sole companion throughout his journey, was levelled and its edged surface smoothed over. A vast plain floor stretched out before him. The world began to resemble a bloated version of the royal halls he remembered from his past. At last, when the transformation was complete, the merchant ceased to speak and rose from his throne. He reached for a large package that strapped the mule’s back and walked gently towards the throne, on which the newcomer was seated. As he walked, however, parts of his body began to dissolve and when he reached it, nothing remained but the package. Even the mule had disappeared and was nowhere to be seen. However, fate left him no opportunity to think about it further, as he was flung back into the world he had never hoped to see again. Once again, he laid his eyes upon the endless grey rock that had come to serve as his cage. The package was the only thing left to prove that the past events were not a product of his imagination. Although slightly dismayed by the fact of their sudden disappearance, he saw no other option than to open it. And so he did.

 

He had walked a long way since he had met with the merchant and he showed no sign of slowing down. He only stopped briefly to check his wounds and to treat them further. Although nothing existed to prove it, he was certain that his labour was not for naught and that the summit came closer with every step he took. In his hand, he held the note that had followed with the package. He remembered reading it the first time. For whatever reason, these words meant more to him than anything else. Once again he laid his eyes upon the, seemingly, insignificant piece of paper. It read: “Never turn back, for a memory revisited is a memory ruined”. The package had contained numerous things to help him along his journey: Bandages along with several medicinal brews, clothes and shoes to protect him from both the cold and from the rough terrain beneath him and finally a lantern to illuminate his surroundings. All of these were vital to his task and his gratitude for the mysterious merchant had no limits. Yet he could not manage to put his mind at ease and he knew that his journey was all but over.

 

Later that day he stopped to recover from the day’s severe effort; he had walked continuously for several hours and he figured his wounds needed treating. As he sat down on the rough surface, the light from the lantern flickered. Silent whispers echoed around him. He turned to look, only to find the landscape just as dull as it had always been. He could barely hear what they were saying but regardless, he knew that they were calling for him. The invisible choir moved closer and the flame danced chaotically, until it was at last put out. The soothing yellow light had been replaced by a red hot flame, the sole purpose of which was that of destruction. The voices escalated from a mild yet vicious whispering to a mighty roar and he was hurled into a world of darkness. He struggled to force open his eyes, but it was as though they had been fused together by some invisible force and when he at last managed to open them, he was greeted by a horrific scene. The clothes he had received from the mysterious package no longer resembled anything he had previously seen. The brown leather had turned into a black scolding hot substance that seemed attached to his body as if it were some form of glue. He felt the wounds on his body reopen. The bandages were red and moist with blood yet the flow showed no sign of ever ceasing. The lantern, upon which he had relied, differed as well. Black oily fumes oozed out of the once so bright candle and darkness would be the new master. The glue-like substance on his body scorched his skin and slowly made its way into his body. The pain was unbearable, however, he did not scream. Although it required him to endure a pain, intangible to the human mind, he had sworn that he was not to act as one of them. At last, he fell to the ground and was taken to the realms of the unconscious.

 

“Hello, my good sir… all you alright”? The words echoed within his dark mind. They had penetrated his walls and forced his consciousness to return once again. “Hello” repeated the voice, which seemed to belong to a man. As he attempted to open his eyes and wake up, he felt his mind being drawn further back, pulled into the abyss of his psyche. Slowly, the words seemed more distant, until they were but a figment of his retreating memory. However, something took hold of his soul and made a furious turn in order to reach consciousness. He opened his eyes. In front of him stood a tall man. He was dwarfed by this huge man, as he was at least twice his size. The giant wore a flawless armor of steel, decorated with various emblems and medals. His head was concealed by a great steel helmet. In his right hand, he held a great sword, infused with unknown powers, and his left was extended towards the visitor in a friendly manner.

“Who are you?” he asked the knight.

“I am a friend. Better yet, I am your brother. And together we shall conquer this blasted mountain! Now take my hand!”

The pain from earlier was completely gone and he felt relieved. He grabbed the armoured hand and managed to stand up. Until now, he had not noticed the huge white stallion that had stood silent just a few inches to the knight’s left. They got up on the horse and he noticed that it was not at all bothered by the immense weight on its shoulders. They continued towards the summit of the world, as hope made its treacherous way into their unknowing hearts.

 

The visitor, as the knight had called him, had been given a simple set clothes and a small shining dagger before they set off on their journey. Not many words were spoken at first, but as time passed, he began feeling more at ease in the knight’s presence, and listened to what he had to say. The knight told an intense story, describing the Outside in detail, painting a vivid image of this dreaded world.

“These dark shades you see, they are in fact souls, lost souls, beyond redemption. They strayed from the path of awakening and the price had to be paid. They, like us, struggled to reach the summit but gave in to earthly temptations and so they were doomed to walk the Outside without cause or will, lost souls in a sleepless nightmare.”

The armoured man continued as before but something caught his attention. In his pocket, by the dagger, he felt something move. He reached for it and noticed to his horror that it was the crumbled piece of paper that the merchant had given him. He unfolded it; the message was in black ink and gave an impression of having been written by someone in great pain. It read:

“The walls have fallen. You lie naked before the darkness. Embrace it”. He stared at it in silence and the knight turned to see why he had been so indifferent to his magnificent tale. However, when he saw the crumbled piece of paper in the visitor’s hand, his smile faded and his face hardened.

“Give me that... Immediately!” The tone of the knight’s voice possessed none of the previous friendliness but was now stern and resolute. The visitor knew that he would not even hesitate to use force in order to get what he demanded. He obeyed and as the knight’s hand touched it, the world suddenly became increasingly darker making it almost impossible to see more than a few steps ahead.

“I cannot take you any further. You have brought nothing but evil to this place. I hope this barren hell treats you with the same “kindness”, as it did to them!” The knight made a gesture to the lost shades beneath them.

He was confused by this sudden turn of events, but before he was able to say anything the stallion made a turn and threw him off its back. When he finally managed to stand up, the horse and the knight were long gone.

 

The sharp rocks penetrated his thin clothing almost immediately and his feet were covered with fresh wounds. Blood painted the ground where his feet had been. The curious thing was, however, that he did not feel any pain. The burden of physical suffering had been lifted off his shoulders. He smiled as the rocks kept digging further and further into his bare feet; nothing was left to distract him; all that remained was him and his inevitable goal. The dagger, he had received earlier, was no longer in his pocket, but was deeply embedded in his chest, and despite his attempts to pull it out, the dagger would not be moved. The sky had returned to its previous apathetic state, and the gray clouds lay heavier than ever over him, as he proceeded towards his goal.

 

He saw it. After several days of continuous walking, he finally saw it, the summit of the mountain, his final destination. A narrow road crept up the almost vertically inclining rock. There was no point in waiting any further; this was to be finished once and for all.

 

It was not without difficulty that he climbed the treacherous mountain. He watched as his hands and legs were gradually torn apart by the sharp surface, and he understood that his journey was about to end without success. However, the summit was not far now. He saw the white clouds that surrounded it. A bright light penetrated them from within, as if though they concealed a white sun. Rays of white light broke out from the clouds as they dissolved. He was in awe before these spectra of luminous spirits, and he let go of his hold. He plummeted to the ground; to where it all had begun, to his past. He shut his eyes and let the wind carry him to wherever he was meant to be. He felt nothing. As opened his eyes, he realized that he did in fact, not fall. Two angelic hands embraced him. He turned his head to see the most beautiful creature in the world.

 

She was everything and she was nothing. All his dreams and visions had merged to create this goddess. She held within her, everything that had once been and everything that would ever be. The same white light surrounded her, though brighter and more intense. A thousand spirits of love surrounded her, dancing around their divine leader. In the centre of this orgy of light, danced the spirit of the celestial beauty that had saved him. He touched her. All the light that had been within her now surrounded them both. He cried as he felt his spirit replenished and his sins forgiven. They embraced each other and he felt her heart pounding gently against his, as they became one. Nothing else existed now, no summit, no Outside, none of that mattered. He loved her. He loved as deeply as the husband loves his wife. He loved as tenderly as the father loves his child. He loved as unconditionally and with such naivety as the son loves his mother. He felt that she loved him back. As their lips finally touched, she vanished. Where had once been the most beautiful of angels was now nothing but empty space. He plummeted to the abyss.

 

He reached the underbelly of the Outside, the very abyss that resided within the heart of the mountain. No longer was the landscape grey and open. Black and red reigned this hellish place. Chaotic images swirled around him, memories, dreams, visions of the past. Small insectoid creatures appeared around him, creeping up his body gnawing on his flesh. The images appeared faster now, until at last it was impossible for him to tell them apart. Together, they formed his life from beginning to end. The horrible memories he had carried with him from Home; the lost ambitions and the shattered dreams. Finally he succumbed. He let forth a terrifying scream. It was not a product of physical pain; it was the shriek of his soul being torn apart. It transcended his very being until all that remained was this manifestation of torment. Just before the orchestra of pain reached its fatal climax, he was hurled back into reality, back to the Outside.

 

The surface was plain and smooth and the air was thin. Great white orbs floated above him casting an almost blinding white light upon him. He was in the summit of this gray giant. He had reached his goal. Three figures appeared in front of him and when he was at last able to discern their shapes he realized who they were. One, a burly tall man, the other, a huge armoured warrior and his steed, the third, a white saint surrounded by sparks of purest light. Something was different, however. Their eyes possessed not the warmth they had once done. They were darker, almost on the verge of black, and they all smiled intensely. Their smiles did not, however, convey the least bit glee; they resembled the smiles, worn by fallen men pleasuring themselves in their agony. They moved slowly in his direction and as they drew nearer, he could not resist their immense power. He fell to his knees and wept. He wept for his past, for Home and for the forsaken, but most of all he wept for his own fate, for he knew now what was to come. When reached the kneeling man, they stopped.

“Choose your fate”, whispered the angel, whom he had loved so dearly.

Images were presented to him, depicting his life in Home. He saw his beautiful house. He saw his wife and his two daughters. He saw the green parks and gentle brooks. He saw himself surrounded by a world, he knew in his heart he did not deserve. The images changed; they were more recent. It was images from his time in the Outside. He saw the blooded paths, the horrible betrayals, the apathetic skies. As this went on, the three chanted with trembling voices.

“Choose your fate!”

Finally, he decided. He screamed with all the strength he could muster:

“Home! I want to return to the comfort of Home! The seas and mountains and beautiful colours. Take me back! I have no place in this hell!”

He woke up after what seemed to be several days of sleeping. He felt at ease. Pain and suffering haunted him no more. He was at last to return to his beloved Home. He opened his eyes and to his horror he saw that the landscape was still barren and dead. Gray still ruled over it and nothing seemed to be able to live here. In front of him lay a crumbled piece of paper. He reached for it. Once again had the message been altered. It now read:

“Only through the darkest of black, can one reach the purest of light."

Panic seized his mind and more than anything he wished to escape. Everything was chaos and he felt that he was about to lose consciousness. Slowly, the panic and fear disappeared and were replaced by a soothing feeling. His body did no longer consist of flesh and blood; his physical being had dissolved and in its stead, floated a transparent, darker, version of his previous self. And as time passed, he ceased to think completely; his mind drifted off to a more benevolent world, to Home, while his lifeless shade was doomed to walk the barren land for all eternity.

 

-m.a.o

my shawt stawie is done! 5½ pages in da bank...lemme just correct it n stuff..ill upload it tmorrow..

adieu

(p.s I'm not trying to be fake-humble or modest...but it really isn't that good and I'm aware of it, however there exists a few elements which I enjoy...)

Live your life as if it is under constant surveillance by all of your loved ones. Live as if though they are scrutinizing your every move. That is what succumbing to morale is all about. Live like that, and be truly and utterly "Happy".

Live your life as you. Let your inner beast rule your thoughts. Become engulfed in your own primal instincts and live solely for the purpose of You. No more lies. No more false excuses. Accept who you are and become truly and utterly "Free".

You have the power to chose

- Abrahamus Micolae iterating the imperial truth on the battleship, "the vengeful spirit
"


daydreams

adieu

This, my friends is Om. Thank you Josef! ITS FUCKING AWESOME TANTRAMEDITAE SHIT I FUCKING LOVE THIS!!!

I shed a tear for lost memories.It's so sad, in a way, that happiness is a state of mind, which only exists within our memories; in the difference between the future and the past. And then I remember those times. Those times, imprinted in my memory forever. Those times of perfection. Was I happy? I often ask myself that. My first reaction is: why yes of course I was happy, why else would I remember them so vividly and with such glee. But then I try to remember. Was I happy? Had the perpetual hunger been satisfied? I do not know. I try to remember and I fail. Those times are gone, along with the emotions connected to them. All that remains is the present and the memories. And memories, as you all know, are easily altered.

adieu

I posted two rather long texts regarding kettle and  reality on my BDB recently. Now, why did I do that? I also realized that I had, without being fully aware of it, posted a poem on that atrocious site as well. As I contemplated this relatively strange behaviour, I realized the reasons for my doing as I did. Although those texts were clearly made for blog purposes, I chose to post them onto a site, where I have a lot of "friends", thus deliberately advertizing what I wrote. The interesting thing is also that those, who do not come to my blog, are those who do not take the time to read anything i write (this is not whining mind you, im trying to prove a point), and thus there will be no difference in the amount of "readers" or real "views" that they get. Yet somehow I felt the need to post them on BDB just so people, those whom I do not care about, would see that I'm still active and still one o dem smart kids, writing about cynical depression. I need to be regarded as that fellow. My inner being feasts upon others looking at me with fear and respect, and with the notion that "I don't get what he's saying, so as a result, he must be smart". I want to be the outcast. And the only way to cement my position as one, is to write cynical texts and get them popular. However, this is not to say that anything that I write is untrue. But I, as a being, clearly have no tangible gains from "ventilating" on BDB rather than to gain other people's attention. And that is the very same thing that I'm doing right in this very moment...gaining attention...cementing my position as an outcast...

also, im working on a short story, three pages thus far..

adieu, and carry forth the revolution, comrades!

"Pure as a lover's desire
Evil as a murderer's dream"

We are all insane. Some, however,wish to conceal their true identities and thus emerges the reason for our society's current downfall.

I realize then and there that i'm nothing but a figment of someone, or something's, imagination. That every word I speak, including these ones right in this very moment, are merely products of the collective mind. The collective mind was once a conjoined being before time and space emerged through the big bang roughly 15 billion years ago. It was chaos, or entropy, that caused it to dissolve and the battle has yet not ceased. Entropy will ultimately come out victorious as every single particle will be separated from one another and it is futile to resist it. However the tide will once again turn and again will positive energies take over and we will once again be part of the collective whole. Entropy is what we call satan. Note that I'm not argueing that that alone makes it(him) evil.

As I walked home from my dad's apartment after once again seing Real Madrid lose the annual battle, I accomplished many things. Seeing that it was dark and past midnight, the streets were mainly abandoned. There were of course the occasional loner wandering, but none of them seemed to notice me. I jumped several obstacles which I would normally not even consider attempting, however, that is not to say that the altitudes reached were the least bit impressing, but nevertheless it made me feel good. I also saw how the collective thinking of mankind could only lead to its downfall and how our lives, individually, were contingent upon how conformoristic we were. I spat at our crystalline world and attempted to contact satan, although that in its superficial form is impossible, simply the act of self indulgence leads to a state of higher consciousness. Or at least the illusion of a higher consciousness.




adieu

ahh children... being the very manifestation of the disgusting corners of the human mind

How I despise these little twats and their caretakers. Their insectoid symbiosis being the only thing keeping them alive. The only thing allowing them to breathe. Both producer and product, so dependent on eachother that the removal of one would mean the death of the other. Money. Power. Wealth. All these are vain substitutes for the real drug: self indulgence..

How we strive to feel awed and loved. How we feast on the happiness of others. How we wish to surf the waves....but alas, the tide will turn..

...And he continued towards the sun, taking no notice of his melting wings

adieu

Ok, Micolus, you can do this.

This man we know of as Micolus is making futile attempts to remove the nail polish on his nails.

Yes...this strange mixture of purple, black and red is to be removed and replaced by dull semitransparent nail-grey.

scraping away.

"I've tried everything lord, everything! But it just won't do. The nail polish has been allowed to ravage the previously so immaculate nails for too long and now it's too late. Only mistress Aceton can help us now"

SCRAPE GODDAMNIT. MISTRESS ACETON IS DEAD. DEAD FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.

unless we scrape thoroughly, the poisonous polish will forever rule over the nails.

but...it's....too....fucking...late



YES (1969) is a superb album by prog rock legends Yes.

with awelike songs such as:
-Every Little Thing
-Harold Land
-I See You
-Sweetness

This song puts me to tears. Pink floyd are musical Gods. Thank you.

"Encumbered forever by desire and ambition
There's a hunger still unsatisfied
Our weary eyes still stray to the horizon
Though down this road we've been so many times"

Three Gods in Time

 

And by the tables sits three divines

Three gods in time

Chanting and cheering their cheerful song

In blissful peace they dine

 

Drinking to eternal health

To perpetual dreams of awe

To the ceasing of the running sand

and the ceasing of the law

 

But all is not well in blissful land

For darkness has emerged

Within the heart of these divines

From bliss they shall be purged

 

Lady luck was first to fall

Her shallow dreams have gone

The die of fate, upon the table cast

Shaded by the sun

 

Lord of Joy, a smile sublime

Was second to succumb

To the chilling hand of sorrow

No longer known as numb

 

Mistress of love, beauteous and free

The last one reaped by fate

Torn out from eternal glee

Replaced by that of hate

 

And by the table sits three divines

Three gods in time

Wailing and mourning their mournful song

In dark distress they dine

And so it is time again. The banker has come to collect. The price must be paid. That is the ultimate law of nature. For any high there must be a low. It seems to me curious that our minds should work in this way. We are so careless and so carefree when were on our summits. We accept any price, any fee, for this blissful state. We don't think we just act. In the end though the summit turns into the very abyss of sorrow. Where we are bound to walk about with no other light than that of our memories. They must guide us through thick and thin.

Emancipation is the only drug worth injecting.

The addiction to the others is too mighty for a mere mortal.

Empty hat

These men are born out of anguish
Hurled into this dark world
These men escaped their chains and fled their graves
These men deciphered the indecipherable and illuminated the shadows
These men were above other men. These men ruled the earth

They stripped the world of its mask
No longer would men hide behind their roles
Everywhere roamed naked actors begging their newfound masters to create another stage
To write another act. To direct the herd
These men cared not for such distractions.
These men cared only to fill the black void inside them

The world was no different
But no longer would there be any veils
They lived in a dark world
Where the deafening roar of the eternal wheel forced them to succumb
Where the ferocious cogs slammed into one another causing the earth to shift
Where nature was just another name for this mighty machine
An unyielding clockwork whose sole purpose was the absence of purpose.
Whose sole aspiration was the absence of aspiration

The men lay naked on the floor begging their masters to return them to their blissful peace
But expose the magician and no longer will the shadows conceal him
Their sole wish was to once again bleat along to their never-ending song