tearz in the rayne v³·º

[part one: sometimez]

sometimez reality izn't quite what it seemz
sometimez reality iz a dream
sometimez reality iz a nightmare
drowning your mind in screamz
sometimez reality cannot be understood
sometimez reality iz an illuzion
hidden in a house of mirrorz
sometimez reality iz a sandtrap
when you're stuck in a dream that doezn't seem real
sometimez reality iz a wolf in sheep's clothing
hiding in the bushez of your biggest fearz
waiting to chew you up and spit you out

[part 2wo: cleanzing pond]

i pheel like i waz this big tree
finally standing proud and tall, after so much growing
roots, firmly and comphortably planted in the ground
and some lunatik comez along and stomps on me
kicks me over, and chops up all my roots
i pheel like the whole ocean waz drained like a dirty pool
i just want to be taken away, and when i come back
wake up refreshed, and not remember anything, a coma
not have this fakeness, and reazonless depression anymore
i want to drown in a sea of new life
and wake up in a cleanzing pond, floating
i want to shæd all this skin, and start again

[part thr3e: a poem with no name]

a spirit in light blue trailz.
a pond without a ripple.
a book with no writing.
a clock with no handz.
a mind with no thoughts.
a sound with no vibration.
a colour with no light.
a room with no windowz.
a world with no plants.
a song with no sound.
a bird with no wingz.
a flower with no petalz.
a roze with no scent.
a tree with no roots.
a riddle with no rhyme.
a nightmare with no exit.
a question with no answer.
an emptiness with no pheeling.
a balloon in the sky, with no string.
staring thru a mirror, with no reflection.
building a puzzle, with no piecez.
flying in a plane, with no wingz.
driving in a car, with no motor.
eating a meal, with no flavour.
like a cloud without water.
a forest with no treez.
a sun with no phire.

[part 4our: shattered]

i'm in piecez, broken and shattered.
trying to put myself back together
by looking into a shattered mirror.
my piecez pheel like the mirror.
i sympathize.
but I can't pheel anything
but sharp edgez of my skin
scattered across the floor.
blood everywhere.
(you don't understand, something must be done)
pulling little piecez of glass out of my soul.
a hole in my head.
sometimez life izn't like a box of chocolates.
sometimez it's a box of broken glass.
blood everywhere.

[part 5ive: coming back]

sacrifice the lamb, my child.
be cleanzed, purified, washed clean.
broken piecez of a galaxy
each falling into some new world
to heal, and make whole.
(this iz a revolution of the mind.)
a candle with no flame.
a face with no name.
i'm slipping away, turning grey.
just take my piecez and burn them away.
(i'm talking to myself, from beyond the grave.)
i want to pheel clean again. whole again.
falling back into myself, like rayne.
a hug with no sweet embrace.
an emptiness with no filling.
a murder with no body.
just blood. everywhere.

[part 6ix: haunted]

black, like the devil'z birth.
black, like a paintbrush on phire.
black, like art without meaning.
scared, like a fish in the sky.
in a grey cloud.
like a child, lost in a fair.
in the haunted house.
in the dark.
in texas.
in june.
blood everywhere.
and all I want, iz to hear my name.
just take this away. (az it came to me.)

[part se7en: black water]

and then she walked in. (black az the devil painteth.)
like an ocean of dark black mystery, flooding towardz me.
(washed clean. cleanzed. purified.)
submerged in water, az a chill inhabits my spine.
pleaze god, wash it all away.
submerged in water, the blood of the lamb.
cleanze and purify, wash it all away.
cauze when she turnz black, it all fadez away.
the smooth black ripplez, surrounding her body, in a sea of silk.
purified, but someone lied.
submerged in black, I see the light.
it's coming back again.
cauze when she turnz black, it all fadez to grey.
and then another one came.
a puddle of light in an ocean of darkness.
the burning of blue in a world turned black.
her face comez out of the water, the light subsidez.
i remember this, it never did a thing to me.
they'll purify, az the rozez die, leaving a trail of black in the rayne.
but it's the blood again, it's coming again, that will take us all back home.
cauze when she turnz black, it alwayz floodz away.
(it all really came from her face. her 3yez. unreal.)
don't you ever forget who you are, åstrid.

[part ei8ht: a song from beyond]

just let the blood breathe and mourn
cauze the body won't be here for long
just let the rayne fall thru the sky
like the tearz falling from your 3yez
just say it with love
and then you'll know my name.
let the paint peel away
let it all turn grey
just say it in pain
and then you'll know my name.
let it all come down
let the wallz come tumbling down
like a king without a throne
like an emperor with no empire
let the spirit walk you home
let the ghost come home again
let the song play from beyond
let the gravestone cry in the rayne, alone
just write it in blood
let the tearz flood in
and then you'll know my name.

pity party, my ass

what the phuk? iz that all you can possibly think of to say? that's the same thing dana said, before she walked out like a dumb bitch. that's the only thing mom could ever say. ok, so, well, if three "women" think i'm having a "pity party", well, then, i must be having one. i'm sorry, i didn't know, i guess i wazn't invited to my own little party here. doezn't seem to be much of a party. three women, who are all so much smarter than i am (i mean look at how many poemz they've written about consciousness), tell me i'm having a pity party. well, then either i'm having a pity party, or none of y'all can think of anything better to say. that's the one i'm leaning towardz. what the phuk iz that even suppozed to mean? that iz just so phuking stupid. that's pretty phukin pathetik that that's all you can think of to say. i spit out all that shyt about why i'm so depressed and have no motivation, and all you can come back with, iz 'enjoy your pity party'??? well obviously i'm not enjoying it, kiddo! possibly becauze it's neither a pity nor a party, duh! what the phuk? see, if you could actually help me, and touch me, with any sort of human contact, emotion, you might actually be able to lift me out of this shyt, but no, you can't, you won't, cauze all you can think to see it az, iz a phuking pity party. well phuk. no wonder we're not getting anywhere, we're only running on half a brain. aroze the phoenix az she glidez, and i've gone insane. i've seen the light of suicide, and i'm dying. i'll ask again. how lonely, and depressed, and unmotivated, how lifeless do i have to get before someone will hear me. how many timez do i have to shoot myself before someone will hear the gunshot. if you shoot yourself in a forest, will anyone care? let freedom ring with a shotgun blast. you know why he said that? cauze the shotgun blast he'z talking about iz the one to my mutherphukin lifeless head. my empty soulspace. the body i once inhabited. the blood i once spilled for you. there iz nuthing to come back to. give me a gun, and i'll give you a sign. just walking thru life, blinded by a dollar bill. and the only thing you can see iz how to by me. i can't even see anymore, my 3yez have burned themselvez tearless. just turn this whole world black. nuthing ever changez, nuthing ever gets better, nuthing ever will. that's the cozmik joke you're all here for, don't you get it? you're all suppozed to loze. there iz no winner, cauze there iz no race. there iz no track. no rats, no food, no life. just a big blue ball with a virus on it. and you still expect us to be human. you still expect some humanity out of us. we're all just monkeyz throwing shyt at eachother, and we haven't 3volved one thought since then. the last sane moment we ever knew, waz on the plainz of afrika, 15,000 yearz ago. we stepped into this hole, knowing exactly what we were in for. and now you're all looking at me, pointing at me, blinded by dollar billz, and telling me i'm going in the wrong direction. have you gotten lost? let me smack that dollar bill off your face. phuking greedy, coldhearted, bitter phuks. snakes and lizardz. put the head to the machine, and let's see how far you get. understand, you need to be touched phyzikally. i touch you phyzikally az often az possible, to show you that i care. that iz something i am able to do for you. i, on the other hand, need to be touched emotionally. my motivation and inspiration need to be fed, or they starve. they die. motive. motivate. inspire. aspire. so here'z all my hopes and aspirationz. nuthing but puke. god, i'm so lonely. doez no one understand. not one human on this small, boring, syckening, disgusting, slow, retarded planet. no one can touch me. no one can just reach out and offer their hand, offer their emotion. iz that why i'm untouchable? iz it choice? iz choice the fundamental evil that we have yet to phigure out? if so, then voice iz our poizon. our venom. our choice iz the wind of change we ride in on. and our pain iz the art we sell to survive. nuthing will make you smaller than this. no matter how much people can take from you, they can't take your treazure chest of tragedy. i need to get this off my chest, i get to get this out. i need to get out of here, i need to get off this planet. i want to run away, i want to disappear. i want to dive into an ocean of immunity, and drown. let go of all my hopes and fearz, and just let go. just let go. tiny bubblez of life, rizing to the surface. just let go. just let go. just let go.

nuthing painful az the hand in my head, shutting, smashing, crushing all my thoughts. i know i once said, that if you kill the brightest flower in your garden, an even brighter one would grow in it's place, but this iz phuking rediculous. i have no phuking flowerz left. my phuking garden iz dead. dead like the black vortex of death that iz tucson. how phuking helpless and hopeless do we have to get before something comez to life? how much do i have to water my garden in this place for anything to grow again? i'm flooding my garden, and nuthing will grow in this hell. my garden looks like what's left of los angeles. will no one hear me. will no one see me. will no one touch me. i, being an alien, require the emotional equivalent to a backrub, and a day at the spa. there iz nuthing like that on this planet. do you see why my life iz getting smaller and smaller? i'm thriving and existing on less and less. this world iz getting smaller and smaller... either that, or i'm eating up all the psychik energy. we need a spiritual change. we need a charge. our batteriez are running low. we need to invent new batteriez. we are not robots, we cannot exist on robot batteriez. we need human energy, human charge, human electricity. emotion. running wild, and we can't even pheel it. like a hand out the window of a moving car. like the paint peeling off the ceiling. can't anyone understand. but no one will understand. i am the only one. the alien, born to the wrong planet. living in the wrong world. giving blood to the wrong bank. irony clozez in on me, suffocates me, and laffs at the little boy, smothered in pain, mizery, and someone else'z monkey shyt. get the phuk away from me. stop charging me $20 per breath. but you won't let me stop existing. see, i told you, there'z no way to win, when it's not a race. you are still a rat, i'm sorry to say, but you're just not important enuph to be part of the race. just sit on the sidelinez, and enjoy your peanuts. senseless rambling from the snake at your feet. phuk you.

the coward game 3.0

just sit back and turn on your tv
watch me blow up another cuntry
i'll uze a remote while you uze a gun
for me, the coward game iz just too much phun
if only you could see, the pleazure it would give me
to destroy all the world'z baeuty, spreading mizery and tragedy
your only victory, to worship your insanity, iz so sad to me
your only achievement iz a phuking pathetik newz story
cover the children, glue your 3yez to your worst agony
your only defense iz to preach morality
hand over your fight to your worst enemy
but this story'z truly smaller than it seemz
how could it be, that one man iz smashing all your dreamz
perfect for the job, i'm bred to push the button, not to pull the trigger
i'd compare your brain with my dick to see which one'z bigger
i know, to you, this just izn't right, me picking a phite
but you're so outgunned, so outmanned, it's criminal
oh, to watch you scatter and die in your city of phire
just give me one true ounce of your hatred
one pure glimpse at your god, to get me higher
az my hand descendz upon your head
your face growz empty, your soul iz dead
your children fear, your streets run red
i never heard a word they said
i just sat back and watched my tv screen
with only silent sound of gunphire criez
emotional rezidue on the picture infront of you
can you sense my detachment, can you pheel how much i care
who ever told you the coward game waz fair?
just sit back and turn on your tv screen
watch your people become the martyrd obscene
can't you see, it's just so much phun
your children screaming az they run
................................. from my big phuking gun

carnal carnival

i just can't seem to find anything high enuph on this planet. anything full enuph. anything extreme enuph. 3volved enuph. life's eazy and you think you know everything, then your life gets shifted around, and you grow up in the middle of it, then suddenly you find yourself in a place where you don't know shyt. you don't have enuph of what everyone else haz, to keep your life running in their direction. going with their flow. you somehow end up floating upstream, beneath it all. life iz a carnival ride you never quite paid for, yet never quite get off. a roller coaster of inz and outs, rather than ups and downz. i can never go high enuph. i want a better carnival. a carnal carnival. i want to think, and see a carnival of carnal colourz cum out of my head and spew onto a wall in the form of what i'm thinking. iz that too much to wish? am i a dreamer? am i the only one? pleaze tell me i'm not alone on that one. if bill hicks were alive, he'd be with me on that one. come on, i support hiz 'terminally ill stunt people' idea. i don't know why i keep searching for something that i've never found, while theze weedz get deeper az i turn around, and time growz older and i've grown colder, so long haz passed that i forgot to count. and theze weedz have grown where the sun once shown, and i can pheel it, this space between us. what iz it about pain that makes life seem so real. we've come this far, we've invented computerz and internet, and the best we can do with our time iz make popup adz. why can't i find anything high enuph. big enuph. i can only change so much in a certain environment, thingz around me need to start changing, or i need to start changing them. i don't know, maybe i just need some new mental stimulation. a new awakening after that Th3rd 3ye withering bullshyt. i've had all the brain damage i can handle in two months time, i've dealt with enuph stupid people, i've argued with enuph clozed mindz, dried up spongez, running around like zombiez with pill bottlez, trying to drug me and make me docile, and calling me paranoid. iz this a phuking cartoon? did god come from a cartoon or something? am i the only one laffing at what's going on here? a sea of mentally vacant, sitting, staring at the light out the window. the ocean of bright new digital sunrize. i pheel like i'm floating above this necroskool, with a big bubble 3ye popping up between my shoulderz, the only one awake. a monkey on a bike deliverz a telegram. 'you're the only one'. it's a skool room. i'm in a skool room, of an elementary skool, in phuking kanzas. what the phuk imagez iz my mind seeing man. and why iz no one else here. where did timothy leary go?

back online

hey kidz, we're finally back online over here, and celebrating skinner seazon. well, it looks like the dumbphuks over at deviantart can't handle my spelling either. i tried to spaek freely in a chatroom there today, and i waz so let down. come to find out, the room waz filled with vocabularikal authority phigurez and spelling naziz, oh my. i keep telling myself, they're not real. stoopid phuks. why iz it so impossible for people to get over that one little thing. and they have to sound so intellectual, like 'oh, well, it doezn't add any extra meaning', ok, how the phuk do you know, dick. it's my phuking writing. anywayz, finally got the internet to work, and now i'm stoned, so i'll think of something to say here later. till then, here'z something from a few dayz ago, while we were offline:

suicide note 9-27-04

dude, do you ever understand how lonely and unheard i pheel. do you really understand. cauze sometimez i really doubt that you do. i really doubt that anyone ever doez. dude, and now you just walked out the door without even... you can't even be nice man. what the phuk. i pheel so phuking let down, lonely, depressed, and all you know to do, iz send me to a hospital and give me 'medz'. you can't just sit an listen to me? not even that, no one in this world can even go find someone who'z willing to sit and listen to me. and all you can ever say iz that my ranting iz too much, my reactionz are too extreme. dude, it's about time that this world have an extremity like me, and if y'all aren't ready for it, that's your problem, not mine. quit blaming me for all your setbacks, problemz, faults, and shortcomingz. i am so syck of putting all my energy and emotion in to a full powered rant, to get a huge, urgent point across, and getting nuthing but an 'uh huh' in return. what the phuk iz wrong with you people. you syck phuks, you phuking stoopid hypocrites with your own phuking problemz, are all standing, laffing, pointing your fingerz at me, wanting me to be complaicent and phuking docile? medicated? no, i don't think so. i'm gonna be phuking hostile, and phuking alive, there ain't shyt you can do about it, and i am not the only one. deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow, what you need iz someone strong to guide you. the phuk. this iz rediculous, this iz one of the worst phuking birthdayz i have ever had, including august. i got two phuking cardz, which i have told people repeatedly that i phuking hate, and had to move all my shyt. thanks. i have had to butt headz with this cuntry for the past two months, when all i wanted to do theze past two months, iz be free to write and smoke. that's quite obviously way too much to ask of you phuking moronz. i pheel like a dime hidden under a bunch of penniez. no, phuk that, i think i've gone beyond that. i pheel like a priceless galaxy, eclipsed from my sun by a piece of space trash from your shyt universe. if by now, you'd like me better silent, then perhaps you'd like some medz. one more medicated peaceful moment. don't worry, there'z nuthing wrong with being complacent and docile. if you have a problem with your world, don't stand up and fight it, just sit down and fall asleep. maybe when you wake up, it will all be better. just take your medz, it will all be over soon. phuk you, i won't do what you tell me. phuk you, i won't do what you tell me. phuk you, i won't do what you tell me. phuk you, i won't do what you tell me. anger iz a gift, and i won't be kept down, in poverty, there iz no democracy. i watched our soulz burning over oil. a politician got no pheelin, it makes my mutherphukin cold blood boil. you'll never understand me, or see my fight. you call me blind, well i see your line of sight. you will never escape me. i am your salvation, and your judgment day. your armageddon. i am the terrorist on the tv screen, brought to you by fame and money, sold to you by your government, for your soul and your mind, suffocating you till the dawn of time. my stomach iz filled with the burden of your ignorance. out of my mind, gun up to the mouth, no pretention, execution, live and learn, rape and turn. fret not family, nor prejudged army, this iz for me, and me only, cowardz only try it. not worth the time to try, to replenish a rotting life, i'll end the problem, facing nuthing, phuk you off, phuk you all. tortured history, addict of mizery, this expozez me, for weakness iz a magnet, watch me do it, do it, do it. why would you help anyone who doezn't want it, doezn't need it, doezn't want your shyt advice, when a mind'z made up to go ahead and die. what's done iz done and gone, so why try? decending down. descend the shadez of night. across a blackened sky. you'll never hear the rage behind my wordz, you'll never pheel the anger under my tongue, you only see what you chooze to see, the hypocrite of diversity, never seeing me, but judging what i'm meant to see, filling my 3yez with your insanity, deluzional dizeaze of humanity. another lesson you'll never learn. dude, where'z my planet. this iz not my home. the whole world being forced to spaek english, yet no one spaeks my language. no one understandz me. a soul made of sirius matter, trapped in a body made of 3arth dust, and no adapter, no communication. standing in a room full of people, screaming out the problemz with your world, and seeing no one turn a head. no 3ye contact. don't look at him, he might be insane. something'z wrong with him. but nuthing can ever be wrong with our world, cauze our leaderz tell us so. when i'm hiding, when i need it, it lets me breathe. for our handle, on this life, i don't believe. would you look at me now. can you tell i'm a man, with the scarz on my wrists to prove i'll try again. try to die again. try to live thru this night. try to die again. mother'z angel, getting smarter, how smart are you to regress, unfulfilled. again. my world iz unaffected, there iz an exit here, i say it iz and it's true. there iz a dream inside a dream, i'm wide awake, the more i sleep, you'll understand when i'm dead. i went to god just to see, and i waz looking at me, saw heaven and hell were liez, when i'm god, everyone diez. one shot and the world gets smaller. each thing i show you iz a piece of my death. some part of me haz to die tonight. this part of me must die tonight. i must die tonight. i can pheel another head growing back. it's another wave of mind attack. and now the world iz turning black. no salvation. no forgiveness. but this iz your world, not mine. i don't live here any more than you do. i don't breathe any more air than you do. the phuk. i am the weight on my end of the scale, tipping it my way. the tipper of your gore. the digital pimp for your tekgnologikal whore. bitch, where'z my money.

if at first, you don't understand, read, read again.

if all you're hearing iz glamflashymetal egodick guitar soloz, then you've still got another ear to open. if all you're seeing iz your weird uncle that ran away and never quite came back, then you're looking at the wrong family member. the son of amerika iz spaeking to you. there'z a hypocrite, a procrastinator, and a mental poet, all going to new york. who gets famous first? the dead rock star. the smackhead with a voice. motherheart. a drug with a death. we fight fire with phire. we fight war with drugz. i fight censorship with poetik venom and a Th3rd 3ye. digital lsd. i fight censorship with nudity, not violence. i got my lunchbox and i'm armed real well. instead of writing with my pen, maybe i should just stab you in the 3ye with it. 9:26am. if you really can kill your fanz with poetry, let me be the first one to do that. cauze you all dezerve to die. i'll weild the pen of death, cauze i'm the only one who can.

you're a rat. you're on a frame with wheelz. you're on a racetrack, with all the other rats. on the track infront of you, there are carefully placed little speedbumps. your frame holdz a stack of dollar billz, that you stand on, az the frame rollz it's way down the track. az it rollz, the wheelz go over the speedbumps, but the dollar billz beneath the frame level get stuck behind the speedbump. each rat iz given a different size stack of dollar billz. it's a hilarious rat race. let's all sit back and watch the shorter stacks get stuck at each speedbump, and watch the rats suffer and die, hahahahahaha. let's give bill hicks and the reverend the shortest stacks, cauze they actually think they're cool.

i've come to realize, with every little glimpse, you fade. i waz told that i could fly, when least expected, cloud connected. every little note iz a work of art, perfection, power and pride. no one can ever tell you how to make your muzik. metamuzikal.

timeless (part2)

time goez by so slowly here
so alone without you here
time hidez a shimmering light
ocean tidez of a brilliant white
your time iz a dream of mine
a mystery in the puzzle beneath me
floating mindlessly in the puddle above me
senseless, a rhyme without a reazon
lifeless, an action without a cauze
flowing like a scent thru the air
i never told you life's game waz fair
time crawlz by so slowly here
so alone without a name
just bewildered by the life in your 3yez
come see me thru the circus mirrorz
some child told you it wazn't a game
i thought by now, you'd know my name

dude, whatever

well, happy terror day kidz. let's celebrate this wonderful day by watching cnn, and trying to think of something that's not scary. how desensitized are we? unaware of what's not going thru your head. oh, don't worry, i'm just making no sense and conphuzing myself. 10:13am. do good thingz, lunchboy. sit and componder a free world. try to recall the moment we all wake up. this moment. nonsense. it's just something that meanz nuthing. this moment iz when we all realize, bin laden iz on tv, and we're staring at synthaetik shellz, bodiez of text, rather than bodiez of nude bæuty. creationz of nonexistence, and no one readz, no one givez a phuk. a moment of silence for something other than cnn'z topik of the day. this day. today. this moment. try to pheel something outside yourself. try to see thru the screen, look thru the city lights, out into the actual sea of existence. speak nonsense. let the mind wonder. who'z listening anyway. another set of 3yez to look into. sometimez, nuthing matterz more than the wordz on the page. and sometimez it's az superficial az the screen you're staring at. shaking your head, waking your 3yez, you come out of a momentary thought coma, like coming out of water for air, and notice that little w and hiz lizardbitch are nuthing but fleshy suits covering green acid smoke, holding their handz to their membrane for the song of their nation. their song of blind, bloody, greedy patriotizm. later on cnn, bin laden iz still loose in the world, oh no. can you just take one moment, and lòók away from the fearmachine, and not think paranoia iz the latest trend. step into something vizually stimulating, like nudity. let's celebrate today by being naked, and smoking pot. let's celebrate today with a song, shall we? let's see... we'll dig up an old good one for ya. how about...

‹ · ~ • º ° ` ` ` § µ æ Ð · ÌvÍ y · § k i N ´ ´ ´ ° º • ~ · › I can þµeel ånøther wave cøming øn ~ It's ånøther layer øf §kin þeeling øff ~ If yøu kill the brightest fløwer in yøur garden ~ ån even brighter øne will grøw in it’s place ~ -‡- ~ §hæd the head tø grøw a new head ~ Kill my mˆnd and watch the wørld change ~ §hæd my skin tø grøw a new skin ~ Free my søul and þµeel my mˆnd change ~ Learn this lessøn and save søme time ~ §ee their liez and let my mˆnd change ~ (My ƒuture vøice) Søme part øf me haz tø die tønight. This part øf me must die tønight. I must die tønight. ~ ‡ can þµeel ånøther head grøwing back ~ It's ånøther wave øf mˆnd åttack ~ ånd nøw the wørld iz turning ßlack ~ §ø here I stand ~ ‡'m dawning new flesh ~ ånd this iz what ‡ see with my new 3yez ~ §ømething haz tø change nøw ~ §ømeøne'z gøtta empty the trash ~ wash åway åll this ignørance ~ ånd let møther nature grøw a new flesh ~ (Mansøn) Cut the head øff. Grøwz back hard. ‡ åm the hydra. Nøw yøu'll see yøur star. ~ we never knew høw bad it waz ~ we never saw høw sad this waz ~ ånd nøw I knøw why ‡ åm here ~ Tø shøw the truth and make it clear ~ That time haz cøme tø make a change ~ §hæd yøur head tø grøw a new head ~ §høw yøur søul and þµeel yøur mˆnd change ~ §hæd yøur flesh tø grøw a new flesh ~ Free yøur mˆnd and watch the wørld change

well there ya go kidz, how'z that to start the day off with. i still can't find half my writingz, most notes. need to type up think 2.0 and the coward game. need to smoke a bowl. bored off my ass. phukin nuthin on tv. and i'm in a bad, tired phukin mood. my stupid mother wants to publish some of my shyt in a local paper. why are people so phuking stupid. why am i the only one with a brain. and why am i the only one who thinks so. everyone else thinks they're so much smarter than me, or that they've got it right, cauze they do what everyone else doez, cauze they have to be right, they're too scared to be wrong. whatever. assorted ramblingz with no direction, only colour. well, at least we got a chunk out. this day so far bringz blandness and boredom, a rye, satyrikal, humourless, black tar pissphunk. whatever the phuk that iz. just turn back to your tv, and watch the moron with the gaping fishhole of a jawmouth shout about what your cuntry lost three yearz ago. more to come az soon az i can think again.

dissidence

izn't it amazing that when a man standz up against hiz cuntry, he iz not only completely alone, but viewed az wrong, insane, and scary, when he seez the cuntry az being wrong, insane, and scary. the differencez between him and hiz cuntry are magnified, even exaggerated, fueled by the phire, the war between the people, and the man. the human animal should understand that there iz something wrong with it's environment. the human animal should understand that there iz something wrong with it's environment. everyone just needz to relax, pull the government syphon from their brain, and inhale a huge fresh dose of bill hicks. oh and by the way, how bullshyt of them to make me pheel deluzional for having written 4our albumz, and still haven't published them, oh, so, that meanz they aren't even written, they don't count? you'll deny my product before it's even released? you fascistnaziscumphukbastard!
god, what a bunch of moronz. lord, what foolz theze mortalz be.

(here'z something from 9-2-04) if only i could form a telepathik connection with my cat, then i could keep constant watch out my window for pigz. if only i could form a telepathik connection with my girlfriend, then she could understand the pain i'm in. but why am i so cut off, so kept inside, bottled up, disconnected, sleepless nights, dreaming awake, dreaming alone. 4:20am 9-2-04. i can't sleep becauze i'm in pain. but i can't smoke a bowl, cauze you heartless phuks want me to get dressed, and go hide outside behind a bush to smoke a bowl. i tried smoking just a cigarrette, it doezn't work, it doezn't help with the pain. when i would see the word 'reverend', i would get mixed pheelingz, a sense of conphuzion, disilluzionment, so i made up my own definition that discribed all thoze pheelingz of conphuzion and frustration. keep having a reoccurring dream of muzik store with huge tshirts and oversized slayer boxer shorts. had dream of fighting with mom over how to park her car in our trailertrash parking spot. get the phuk out of my head bitch, and hand over the phuking keyz, you trophy holding phuk. i can't sleep becauze i'm suffering from the worst constipation ever, and the best shyt you got for me iz colace, or metaphukinmucil? and you won't let me smoke pot, and it's the only thing that takes the pain away. your shyt iz worthless. and you want me to suffer. this pain coming out of me slowly and painfully, iz a slow, painful writing process, warning me that i'm about to go metaphukinmuzikal on your ass. this time around, it waz no fairy tale, this waz no girl, interrupted, you wanna know what i saw this time around? i'll tell you what i saw this time. i saw a bunch of soulless pussiez with no phire left. no ballz. if you don't stand up for who you are, you are shyt. if you don't tell thoze who persecute you to shove a shotgun down their throats and phuk off, you are nuthing. who the phuk are you to tell me what to do in a free cunt ry. you make in sanity just az illegal and demonized az marijuana. · þ h u k · y ø u · . suck shotgun metal and phuk off. let freedom ring with a shotgun blast, mutherphuker. grow some nuts and pry yourself a new 3yehole. trepan yourself the quick way. pussy. you want me to believe everything you say, and you can't say shyt worth anything, any meaning, cauze you chooze to live your life around mental cowardz, retarded pussiez, living blind and paranoid in a scary world where people want you to get dressed and hide to smoke pot, not only hiding every freedom you ever fought for, but hiding your very flesh, in silent protest against the lawz you're still fighting against. when are you gonna start this fight? when will you stand up and drop some nuts? when will you stick your fist in the air? what iz it that you want me to believe? what iz it that you want me to slave my heart away for? in this world of shyt? i'm about to get metamuzikal on all of you, and you can't even predict it. what a bunch of psychik amputeez. taken away from every footholding freedom you ever knew, just to behave, cauze you're too paranoid to stand up and speak for yourself, fight for yourself, start running towardz instead of from, full force, head on, against the storm of life, or you will get blown down, obliterated by 3volution. phuking coward. i want my coward song back, you gutless, nutless phuk. i want my rights back. i want my fight back. 6am, and still, no life, no muzik, no sleep. your addiction to paranoia makes you weak and worthless, and it pheedz on down the line, like blood thru veinz, your mother being the main artery. your halo iz slipping down, to choke you. loss of memory, loss of life, loss of innocence, forgive me father, for what i'm about to see, to pheel, to think. i don't want it, i just need it, to breathe, to pheel, to know i'm alive. i'll keep digging till i pheel something. shoulder deep within the borderline, relax, turn around and take my hand. there are timez when all the world'z asleep, the questionz run too deep, for such a simple man. won't you pleaze, pleaze, tell me what we've learned, i know it soundz absurd, but pleaze tell me who i am.

bored out of my skull

dude, why can't i think of anything to write, say, do, think, i pheel stoopid. maybe it's this lame ass movie on. waiting for skinner seazon. still don't know if i'm diggin this whole thing at the moment, getting uzed to it. still reconvincing myself of the fact that i can say whatever the phuk i want. i don't know, maybe just deluzional again. just phuking bored. just testing out the page to see what all i can do. where can i post my picture. wish it could look different though. digital diversity. letting my food get cold. playing devin townzend deadhead over and over. gotta change the channel. 4:20pm. going thru mp3z, deleting copiez. i am so syck of packing and moving, packing and moving. i don't mind getting rid of alot of shyt, i'm fine with that, alot of the shyt we have iz useless shyt, that we could do without. i just fear going thru the pilez of shyt to find all the shyt we want to keep. what i want to do iz, if we can turn the tv off, i'll sit next to a bunch of boxez, one labelled 'found shyt', and one labelled 'trash', which i will take out often, and you start digging thru the pile, and hand me halfway organized shyt, and i'll organize it and put it in the boxez, and when you get tired of standing, we'll switch, but i want you to start off with all the paper shyt in this front table pile, cauze you'll get stuck reading it, and i don't want to touch it. make sense? asking too much? eh? i mean, i barely have enuph time to go thru the mp3z enuph to make a playlist. man. damn. it's not that i want you to do it all, it's just that i'm syck of doing it and don't want to. so... iz this a worthy post yet?

my baeutiphul

just posting from my email address, just to see if it works. well apparently i can't post my phunky letterz thru hotmail, but i can still post. but hotmail won't let me save contacts. bullshyt. phuk that hotmail shyt. they need to make it eazier to post links and picturez on here. i'm waiting for you to get home. alwayz waiting for you to cum home. i'm fantasizing about you, and reading someone else'z fantasy on this blog thing. i love you, my baeutiphul. come home soon. bored out of my phuking skull. i'm constantly editing and tweaking shyt here and there, adding shyt all over the place, like links to my favourite sites, hidden in the text. click the orange shyt. yeah. watching 'serving sara', and trying to slowly phigure out how to take everything of mine off ozztek.tripod.com, and put it on here, cauze tripod iz some evil shyt, and hey there'z nudity on tv, uh... and... uh... so i can transfer this to ozztek.cjb.net. that will take for phuking ever.

(from ozztek): ah phukin hell.

first post

September 3, 2004, 10:22am. ok folks, here it iz, metamorphosis online v1.0, hope you dig it. this blogger shyt iz pretty cool. online journal... for free... whodathunkit? and oh yeah, everything on this particular free piece of webspace, incase you're a total moron, iz © The Reverend, Metamørphøsis Indüstriez. ok well, i'm stoned, and i think everyone should smoke more pot today. get really stoned, and have a laid back, groovy day. and that's about all i have to say for now. so here'z a song:

‹ · ~ • º ° ` ` ` Å q u a r i u s ´ ´ ´ ° º • ~ · › I’m killing it åll ~ I’m killing myself tø live ~ Turning myself inside øut ~ Finding what really matterz ~ I’m crawling thru death and hate ~ I’m killing my fearz and limits ~ Remembering why ‡ came tø this wørld ~ I’m bringing back what brøught me here ~ I’m sløwly slipping thru the cracks øf my sanity ~ I’m standing åløne øn the edge øf reality ~ My head iz spinning øutside its self ~ In and øut øf this black høle we call security ~ (I løve åll I live før, and nøw I wanna thrøw it åway?) ~ This izn’t my ønly death ~ ånd theze åren’t my last regrets ~ I’m learning nøw why ‡’m here ~ ånd what I’m here tø learn ~ we're gønna learn høw we åll fit intø the whøle picture ~ ånimalz and plants, 3arth, ålienz, the ùnìvérsé, and réálítý ~ Muzik and årt, sexuality, þhiløsøphy, tekgnøwledgy and ìnsànìtý ~ Let the new sun rîze, with a new flesh and wingz, and a Th3rd 3ye ~ (Take the staple øut øf the paper, thrøw it åway, and start with a new øne.) ~ ¥øu have tø understand what’s in yøur wørld ~ we have tø cømprehend what’s in øûr mînd ~ ånd I have tø unløck nøw what’s in my head ~ we have tø øpen up and understand ~ That life iz møre than what’s in yøur hand ~ (Newz phlash! This just in ~ The entire åmerikan gøvernment just cømmitted mass suicide!) ~ I’m destrøying what I’ve becøme ~ Tø make søme . · r ø ø m · . før what I’m becøming ~ I’m hating life and I’m hating nøw ~ Nøt fearing change cauze I knøw it’s cøming ~ ånd nøw I understand what brøught me here ~ å change in life iz ålmøst here ~ Nøw my mînd’z stretching thru the cracks øf reality ~ Let’s dive intø the depths øf øur sanity ~ Øur wørld iz spinning inside its self ~ In and thru this Åmazing Ðivinity ~ Let yøurself rîze and àwåké yøurself ~ ånd step intø the Åge øf 3quality