THERE IS CHAOS IN THE LAND OF THE CLOUDS. billows of pure divinity purified by jesus juice au naturale are now smoldering with the contempt of progression! o how the gods shake with anger as their creations dance to forbidden jangles and harmonize sweet sacrilege from the rafters. this is the second coming(!), or was it the third or fourth? no matter, the messiah my savior and satan my lover are now clashing in a purgatory of my creation. i am dripping with the seven vital sins and an instinctual desire for closure is stirring me to my very core, so i look for it and find it. it is stuck somewhere in between my subconscious and an existentialist crisis that i have now accepted is in fact an existential existence. death is a hand i so readily look forward to grasping but there is a minute distinction between this mortal handshake and the voluptuous temptations of a self-evoked ending; I will wait my turn! my favorite method at suicide was getting out of bed this morning.
i was born a vile abstraction in a bathtime dissension for censorship. i am screaming loudly and most ironically i am being heard, but it is misconceived for an anguished cry in a devilish sequencing of tongues. NICOLAS TONE IT DOWN WITH THE FREAKY JARGON MAN, IT’S CREEPING ME OUT. Now I am civil. let’s economize literature because the masses don’t like their dystopia being obscured by the syntax of a cynicist who is writing senseless love letters to the absurd. you can’t tell if it’s poetry or philosophy anymore but it sure is ugly!
welcome to the contemporary crusade of the individual’s actuality. life has never been so meaningful as it is now!