Taking flight into the ultimate fire of Truth

The sky is light
the light
is sky
the Might
is right
you are not

we are lost
unless we
are right
and we forgot what
right was
when we chose
to fight
without reason

when shame failed
to correct
and faith failed
to survive
within us
we were forsaken
to become
dust
thrown
into the fire
at the complete
mercy of Him

Judgement

a protagonist
of the greatest zeal
can he conquer
the combined forces of evil?

the last beelzebub
if you don't know who that is; click the link and look it up
will be killed
and the truth revealed

anal

Is there any pleasure

Greater that you and i will find

Than when i have you bent over

And you're taking it from behind

Ripe, luscious

But you needent worry

The day I do anal

I truly will be sorry

To Sigmund

Sigmund are you listening?
I'm snorting up and trying to escape
my parents hate me and the world I cant take
Sigmund whats the solution?

the papers are full of bullshit that paint
a mysterious picture of the world and its ways
while the government smuggles in my coke
some poor moron with a joint gets pulled in for dope

The demons infest me Sigmund
I am not a man with hope
the poverty depresses me
cos its magnetism is too strong to behold

It drags me down into the gutter
coloring me brown with slime and green with snot
feeling my nether regions with pain and sharp obtuse angles
Sigmund are you there?

Or am I imagining you in your great white beard
all knowing, staring benevolently
confident and unafraid
or Sigmund, do my eyes simply misinterpret?

Are you but a loser just like all of us
who thought you could succeed in the realm of the psyche
you did, for you were good
but to understand the true nature of man, you never could.

Why

If feeling is breathing

There is no meaning in living

Why I hurt you and why I lied

Why the feelings just twisted inside

Why the pain never materialized

But in you it turned a thousand cycles

Why my love for you never died

But changed a hundred times.

When you cried

It broke my heart

When you lied

I was distraught

But nothing compares to the feelings when

I realized I hurt you then

And then again and all through those times

Again and again and again

Heartless, cold,

I was possessed.

I was possessed.

But possessed by what?



What demons were living in my core?

What heartless beings of blood and lust

Would tear you apart so?

I still don’t know.

ID: or why I blog

And then somewhere in january
he started a blog to vent his soul
there was fire in there that no water could perish
that carbon dioxide could not be used upon without killing his whole self
and to kill himself was not what he wanted

He was initially simply a joke
but then he got serious
and began to provoke
some deep shit

at least that's what he thought.

but he sees himself as his persona personified
as a being drunk on freedom
without the actual capacity to be free
with a fear constantly gnawing at him

that he would unwitting get close to that too close orb
that golden ball of searing heat
which will burn his wings and send him plummeting
to a death,

yes he identified with him
and his identity bore him to similie and analogy
to a safe haven? he didn't delude himself!
but drown himself in the flight of freedom he did

Phoenix

You
Flew,
Then you flew back,
Anew.

Yet
I know that
Like countless times before
You will fly again
Away towards the sun
Burning me in the process
Like you always do

firebeing

neitzche looked into the abyss and the abyss looked back. he was a distraught soul who took himslef too seriously and inspired vows of silence in people who wanted to be fighter pilots who then found out they were colour blind and swore blindly at the sun in absolute agony and utter pain. the gain having been lost in the entire journey of remorse from the car to the cliff edge of sanity which was situated some distance from the road.

and he cried and he cried for a lifelong dream that was lost forever, he cried for a self that needed to find itself once again. he cried for the agitation running in his veins. he cried for the suppressed words never uttered to a dying grandparent who was stoned on the Heavy Stuff. He cried and cried and cried and cried.

Then he stopped. he had to. The tears dried up and all that was left were ripping sobs tearing up his throat. he stopped the tears and soon the sobbng stopped. and he was empty. he was just being. he was devoid. he was placid without the world inside him, yet the corners of his existence began to crumple as a piece of paper crumples before a flame when the fire of reality licks it, and he knew that soon the world would burn him up all over again.