With these tools carve your face,
with these lies you carve your fate,
with a smile, you carve your allies,
with a finger you carve your enemies.
With error, you wrongfully cry out,
For with pain you craft magnificence.
-Caes
"Today, a young man on acid realised that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration, that we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively, there is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves... here's Tom with the weather." - Bill Hicks
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Monday, December 11, 2006
Liquid libido
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Hindsight
Artificial drafts reveal signs of cold weather inside a box
A body's uncontrollable urge to maintain warmth
A resort to reveal reason
A mind's controllable, yet absent attempt to fight sanity
A magazine of bullets to end unhappiness
Smoke it to the butt, stub the filter.
A cup of warm coffee to add to the concotion , a relatively sober speedball of sorts.
These are the steps of the subtle degeneration of man.
A seemingly endless night of worry and despair
A magazine left empty, the situation sarcastically grins.
Roll over on a bed to watch the room convert into an arsenal.
The gleam of a needle, and the grimace of someone who swore "he'd never".
These are the steps of the subtle degeneration of man.
Dialing solace.
It's set, the orchestral gathering of thoughts.
Goodnight.
A body's uncontrollable urge to maintain warmth
A resort to reveal reason
A mind's controllable, yet absent attempt to fight sanity
A magazine of bullets to end unhappiness
Smoke it to the butt, stub the filter.
A cup of warm coffee to add to the concotion , a relatively sober speedball of sorts.
These are the steps of the subtle degeneration of man.
A seemingly endless night of worry and despair
A magazine left empty, the situation sarcastically grins.
Roll over on a bed to watch the room convert into an arsenal.
The gleam of a needle, and the grimace of someone who swore "he'd never".
These are the steps of the subtle degeneration of man.
Dialing solace.
It's set, the orchestral gathering of thoughts.
Goodnight.