"A book is a cold yet sure friend."
Felt like gigantomachy was in progress on the inside of my skull. The chiseling and the carving or the actual battle. Fires of vesuvius scorched the inner wall and my brain fried like eggs on the highway, during hot days.
Re-read old writing. Horrible emotions presented. Such anger. Still angry at different things. Rubbed my eye now fills with blood or worse. Crushed large spider crawling up the wall. Compared the Heart of Darkness to the movie apocalypse now! and say many similarities which intrigued me. I exercised under the shadow of the news and soap operas. They called the vagina a 'self-cleaning oven' and the studio audience laughed. Meanwhile, sports broadcasters all saying what they say about the dodgers here that they say about whatever the fuck team is closest to you wherever you are. America, the beautiful? We are a charade. A caricature of ourselves and our potential. I am disappointed and hurt all over. Feeling more and more like I was the only item that fell over on a table top after a struggling magician pulled the fabric out from under. The rest of the objects remained perfect, crystalline. But I fucking shattered. They talk in buzz words, simplified to keep us intrigued and stupid. When something of minor concern is called a 'crisis' we have a different issue to confront altogether. Why are lies so well accepted? Swallowed like melted candies. Like baked goods. Pot brownies at the white house brunch. Everyone goes around blaming one another for personal decisions. We need to hold hands and achieve some harmony together or else we all contribute to this fucking terrible culture. Everyone rushing about trying to cutting everyone else off. Buy on a tour. Kill the competition. I am a contribution to this. But I wish to eliminate my involvement with all of the vast evils in the world. Oh god I am sorry. Everybody fucking lies. There is no god. Everything is false. shrank my shirts, everything turned spoiled and i am made mockery of. fuck it. this is infinite.
