Ranting

Diluted ideals argue against the logical conclusion drawn by the use of the individual senses making truth the lie and the lie ever lasting recording the silence and hiding the noise beating the air passing through what could be solid but chooses not to be and hides behind the veil of simple perception allowing itself to be over looked the poison that does not kill and will not make ill but brings about an end seeps into the veins single bedroom no walls no water but bathes in the juices that flow from the silver stream of moonlight screaming with silence exhaling something lighter than air and held by the gravity of the moment not the body running and there he stood a man but not man but still a man he will live he will die he will live he will die and he will not know any of this ever happened and now I hear him but he does not hear nor does he make a sound lost in the stream of consciousness that does not flow cascading off the hill like an impulse fired from a rouge neuron slipping down the highway lost in the fact that it knows exactly where it is going the old TV plays shows from a bygone era and dead men dance across the screen happier in fiction than in life where troubles mount like mountains rising until the rain washes down the castle wall and running naked screaming into the light that is darkness one room that is the world with one window that always stays locked no one in no one out everything false in its veracity and in the end it cannot matter more than it does right now why you ask why not I ask and we dance the dance of modern intellectuals no one awnsering the question just covering it in shit and we hide all the fear under the excrement of false idealism and the rooms smell like dried semen of infertile men who hunger for youth even in their young age outside a woman spends her life growing old and is completely unconcerned with living in the preoccupation of her soon to be expired state and the sun goes down even if never arose from the sea of polluted humanity in the first place understanding is the lost art of our forefathers not that they had it but that they lost it an old man takes a moment kill himself and then continues on with life freedom is an enslaving concept keeping you bound to the ideal of being free and we seek in sex a perpetuation of pleasure but the ecstasy flows out with the seminal fluid in to the mouth of the whore from across the hall who does anything she can to pay the rent but smokes the money and does everything she can't and the doom of our world comes not in blindness but In denial senile men are clear of mind women dance the old dance and men fall into the world where no man returns we call it marriage a holy institution that turns lust against love fathers run in the fear of responsibility the use of a cock is not always a license to use and when the world is seen the beholder looks away because it holds the face of screaming crying infant whose eyes are spilling blood and shit falls from the mouth with the foul words that cause the listener not to seek remedy but to become offened and rush away pretending that the moment never happened and quickly she pushes it away returning home the house wife whose husband fucks his secretary on the desk where people insure their lives not because they choose to but because even when he dies a man incurs expenses who would have guessed they would charge you to die now death and taxes are both unavoidable and you have to pay for both homosexual space rabbits seek human blood and Christ died for the sins of white men in bed sheets perhaps he did it unwittingly to know that you would have to ask him but I would not recommend asking them for they and their bed sheets are clearly biased virgin mothers fuck unabashed on the beach where whales of virtue wash upon to die and no one notices because of the familiarity that even the unusual is treated and what we want is undefined women seek an unequal equality bringing math in all its bullshit glory to the forefront to formulate how this is possible some men hate me few men love me but in the end I cannot understand why I am supposed to give a fuck children cry fed the same old shit one more day snapping sanity descends down the age ladder as rats abandon a sinking ship and we are now a nation of preadolescent homicidal sociopathic uneducated disenchanted preschoolers TV must be to blame it could not been the actions of those around no it must be something more simplistic and able to be used as a scapegoat to hell with the world I fuck my goats and go home a happy man and when I die no one cares and when I live no one cares least of all me for life is not worth ending in the current state of the world it is a desperate puzzle whose author forgot to include a solution and listen close all you who read the meaning of life is an illusion created for all who need a reason to seek a meaning for a biological concept of inbreeding and masturbation of the mind ejaculating random formula and procedure until the mental cock chaffs and bleeds a crimson river of acceptant unity and in the end we all die that my friend is your meaning now fuck off. Written October 20th, 2001 © on Oct 19 2001 08:28 PM PST   18 • 0 • 1