destruction

de l'Absolut

Another cold place, another shattered dream.

Perhaps, the order of life is tied into the random and the unexpected.

There are times when all the shivers that run down your spine aren’t worth it.

You feel cold with a glass and a packet and a bottle and a gun.

They’re not all here.

Some day. some other time.

Save seven, unhinged nine.

all in me, except a bottle of wine.

I don’t need your shit.

I seriously don’t.

Brutal, twisted world.

So dark, yet so beautiful.

Fever dream.

Packet of lies sold.

Buy truckloads.

Intoxicate yourself before its late.

Find your beautiful funeral.

Catch the bait.

All part of the wicked plan.

Catch your part.

Before it dissolves you.

All that you know and desire.

up in wisps of smoke.

Kill your dream or destroy yourself. make your choice.

Find meaning in all this absurdity.

Is it all numbers and integers?

we’re all creators. before we fall.

into the abyss of all that uncertainty.

all those dark corners that my shadow follows me.

whispering of dark futures and disturbing pasts.

all my life trying to find meaning in the absurd.

this existence, it pales.

before all i feel and experience.

Perhaps it’s all an illusion.

an illusion of absolutes.

Liars.

Glitch in my coffee.

As I sit and sip another cup,

mourning over the loss of pure childish innocence

the lack of brightness behind these closed and boarded up windows.

it bothers me.

howyers changed the lines that trace through my hands.

they reach the boneless soul of my existence, theypour

all that is needed, but never quite as much as I want.

like a hole that void.

nameless whispers that talk and seep into my dreams.

they tell me of stories yet untold.

they are of darker nature than I would be able to swallow.

It's all biscuits and coffee this life.

you might want some tea once in a while.

some mind to juggle up your breath.

but that's all the space I was ever given.

Adapting is changing yourself.

I feel conflicted.

But this glitch in my coffee.

The Slit.

Night after night. My head is haunted by visions. They are gruesome and sometimes, terrifying. Maybe it has to do with the kind of phase I’m going through in life. It is ugly. Humanity as we know it is turning into a rotting carcass and we are surviving off cannibalisation, not just in the sense of eating up each other for our own progress. But also, in the sense of the culture of death. The culture of stringent values being imposed on free souls. Indoctrination of the masses. It’s paralysing and soul-shattering at the same time to see a species so high in potential, grasp and level of intelligence has literally stooped to the level of anarchy and the literal standstill in terms of foresight the older generation has.

 

The escalation. It frightens me. I shake as I write. Again. I wish things would be better. But things never do. It’s like a giant spiral dragging you down and the faster you go, the more chaotic it gets. Until nothing is left except trying to hold onto what you once held dear and near to you. Only, everything changes. Friends become foes. Family become strangers. Strangers become acquaintances. Maybe it is my misfortune that I have been born in such an age, such a place. Things never really worked out that great for me. I was always.

 

The Underachiever. I don’t see things linearly. Maybe it’s my curse. My personal eternal hell. Is it so wrong to do what one feels right? Has humanity reached such a tipping point that right ceases to be wrong. wrong ceases to be right. All that’s left is the desperation. The moving along, the finding a fucking job. The finding a fucking cheap imitation. Killing yourself plastic coarse hypocritical mass murders inside your head. They don’t stop screaming. The visions. Brother killing brother. The infinite slaughter. Of all that was, all that remains.

 

A rotting carcass. Rivers of blood and spine-curdling screams. Where is your god? Where is your mercy? Is it background score for the little child that sits and cries day after day looking at the blank stare of her own mother, once animated full of life, a beautiful soul. What has your god done for her. Where is the humanity. Instant Slit.

 

They all slit. My knees turn into purple blue jellyfish and all I could see were chairs moving, chairs smashing down. upon heads. Upon feet. Upon all that’s left. It smashes down like a slivered nightmare. It’s a purple mist that descends after all is lost. It’s a severed limb, this joke of a humanity, that we call it.

 

Mockery for everyone. We have fruit punch and potatoes in today’s special of massacre served with a cold side-dish of despair and hysteria. Run for your lives, while we drink your blood through and through. One lives while millions die. Is this equality. Is this where I rest my head on. Contamination amok. All creation runs foul. one way or the other. One day or the other.

 

It’s all a circle seesaw merry go round before they kill you in your sleep. They blind you. It was just manic laughter till the blood spews out. And the day it did, it was ugly poison. They drink and rejoice while I kill myself a little slowly one day after the next.

 

Before.

The Slit.

Void Disconnected. Repeat.

I couldn't sleep. just for a couple of hours maybe.

Kneel and Disconnect.

waste another year.

fill the application.

No, I can't start a new career. Unfortunately.

Sometimes you get so tired of going through the motions, trying to get out of the vicious circle of failure that pinches you every second you exist. You wish things were different. that they would get better some day. But somehow they never seem to fucking do. So you come this close to giving up. I'm seriously tired of constantly trying to reassure myself that it's all part of a bigger plan. there is no bigger plan. there is no grandeur. there's no mighty delusion of greatness. It's all a fucking lie.

I looked up at the void and I couldn't find a mirror. and it spoke back to me. I don't remember what it said. But it sure talked for quite a while, because it couldn't let me sleep. There are things that make us and then there are things that destroy us. you want to make some fucking noise but all you hear is static talking in an unknown language. you try to understand. you really fucking try. but sometimes stuff just doesn't add up.

You could eat up a stone, you could destroy the mighty brick walls. you could drink up sand mixed with blood and sweat like water in a flowing river. you could try staring at the window and try taking a piss out of it. but there will never be escaping the status quo. 'the stereotype'. there will always be acceptability and rejection. We as humans, love classification. this is good. this is bad. this is wrong. that's right. But above it all, we want an interesting fucking judgement of everything. We want a show. So what if somebody gets killed, fuck that shit. bring a tiger and bring in a slave, we will drink wine through a gold cup and see his blood spill all over the place just so that we can feel fucking good about ourselves.

Humanity is beautiful but sometimes you can't help thinking how shitty it is at the same time as well. you get the good with the bad. Much like sulphuric acid mixed with coke. you might get a good fucking kick in the nuts and have a happy trip for a while but you'll ultimately kill yourself.

Could you see through the void? there was no mirror today and it spoke nothing. why are things so disconnected? where was the missing variable all along. did humanity lose out to carnal animal instincts that turn mighty wise and noble men into beasts who look for the next thrill. we're all junkies. and we like to kill ourselves over small things. Period. don't know about you but that's what I feel like today. You always want to forget the shitty stuff but it's always coming back and pinching you right there. Ultimately the sadness resides and you get used to the pinch. You stop feeling it untill someday it all comes back. Someday you get out alive. But you rarely ever do.

Disconnect and Repeat.

Disconnect and Repeat.

Destroy Yourself.

Let's have a good fucking show.

Stories of Long Lost Faith

Vacant eyes.
An isolated head.
She was a beautiful nightmare.
Heart full of teary-eyed half-broken dreams.
She could breathe.
Living in a plastic-packaged cheap dream.
Selling all she can buy.
Living it all.
Seeing it crumble behind her.
All the things that die.
She could live for ever and ever.
A packaged cold-storage for all the world to touch and feel.
Awfully struck brilliance.
She took everything she could.
Living by the road.
Creating a violet-red streak of fire as she passed through the town.
People could smell the light.
And everybody peaked out of their windows to see what was the bright light in the middle of the dark deep ocean.
Shooting up like an earthquake.
Tearing up the sky like a midsummer night’s dream.
Too horrendous to see it stumble.
Too brilliant to see it stand back up again and pose for the cannibalistic cameras.
The lights. Diabolic peaks of unaccounted energy burning up the atmosphere like a rocket on fire.
Violas screamed.
Sheets of paper tore themselves up.
Another one lost in the static.
Trying to scream their way through.
Never really found out what she was living for anymore.
She lept and jumped through the rabbit maze like a lone finger trying to catch up with the rest of the fanfare.
To be followed and to live life like there’s no tomorrow.

Nobody knows.
She was faith.