Jonindacenter Has Gone Mad (or has he?) |
This is for the world. Witness the genius of an idiot..... The poetics of a nut. The price of ghetto living. |
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Somewhere. This illusion is just not enough. Insane spiral mocking the very essence of intelligent being. Collector of lost utterances and empty imaginings. Securing the only guaranteed abstraction. Death... Knocking on the blistering wood of mortality... Knowing friend grinning menacingly, malevolently as the dagger plunges deeper.. Piercing millenniums of fragile imperfection. Somewhere.... In a chasm of gray matter lies the irrational lust to live forever. To struggle forever. To die forever. Insufferable, miserable, torturous facade of existence. Laughing shamelessly. Blamelessly ingesting this faulty perception of reason, when our minds can't even ponder the spirit without contradiction. Without the ability to look within..... There... is the flaw that causes the bloodletting orgasm. The ignorant disregard of what we really are. From nothing, we emerged as something incredible. Surviving only to mutter contradictions For we believe that we are the only ones... Out here. Somewhere... Is the essence of from what we came. Of what we are.... We are becoming that essence only through miraculous intervention, and intelligent ascension into an age of confusion, chaos, catastrophe, bane. Taking this Pandemonium and shaping it into a reminder that the reason we are here is not to live forever but to live for foreverness...in somewhere's name... |
This is me. |
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Name: |
Lon Char |
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The Weight of Wait Sad dilemma? Enter the center and unfold the devilish mentor. You can't compete. Your nemesis mirrors how you exist. Twist ya' till you split; foils your deserved bliss. Kiss it Bye-bye. With one eye closed still exposed to visions of retro-blithe; a retro-life. Reality cut with knife. Love lost? Best love ever been lost in? Tossing and turning nights till daylight, soul frosting. Exhausting measures to derive pleasure Never humbled by the mumble of whether or never. Can't seem to get it together? Daydreams of all I fiend: Madd style, high-profile; giving a damn. Fulfill all wiles. Isles of foul things fill the view. Close scopes and hope to do whatever it takes for dreams to come true. This is all it is? No sizzle no fizz? All did was in vain? Inquiries of pain... Inklings of a sinking, non-thinking, eye-blinking feeling clouding my ceiling. Peeling my plaster Four walls, two floors.... A revolving cube of disaster. I must escape I must be soothed and beat the master. Faster, obscene means overwhelming the railing. Falling or failing. Inhaling that good smellin'. No tall-telling! Willing to do whatever it takes to shake this nonexistence in an instance of pleasure too much to measure and love the weight of my heavy wait. |
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