muzik for a storm

so bored waiting for you to get home. sputter playing with the featherduster. scared by loud plane. got my desktop set to purple lightning. not that anyone carez. i mean if someone'z reading this, you've got better shyt to do with your time. i don't know. i'm so bored. the written word sucks lately. nuthing even remotely entertaining. watching letterz appear on the screen az i type. that's about az entertaining az anything iz at this moment. i don't give a phuk anymore. bored out of my mind. can't anything be phun anymore. can't entertainment be entertaining. just get me a tv show that doezn't suck. some new muzik, or something. shyt. i hope it raynez. bring me rayne.

liquid revelationz

this waz written around 5ive yearz ago. all the little split second thoughts, ideaz, concepts, realizationz, revelationz, understandingz, theoriez, and little secrets that flood into your forehead all at once, like a neverending wave of realizationz that dont stop washing over your head. its not like beavis and butthead anymore... not the little light bulb above your head... this iz a flood of flashing lightbulbz like a string of xmas lights on acid. each flashing of their own new realization. their own new understanding. 'so delighted with your new understanding.' so understanding of your new concept. so perceptive of your new revelation. like a wave of understanding flooding your head. its combining all your sensez (not just 5ive, far beyond 5ive), into one, in order to pry open your Th3rd 3ye. when you combine all your sensez, that iz your Th3rd 3ye. have you come to that realization yet? dont worry, itll be a while till that wave hits you. its taking the red pill, and lsd. looking into the mirror. 'its the big liquid dent in the mirror, when you arent even looking in the mirror.' but how do you know its not there if you arent looking? its all in your head. the 3ye in the back of your head. your imagination. uze your imagination. manipulate it. expand it. then break it open. crack it open. and look up to the sky. and feel the way the sun shinez on you. the warmth of knowing who you are. that you're alive on this 3arth. Th3rd søul from the søn. and what if the 3arth had ringz. maybe it doez. i think it doez. we just cant see them. we havent opened our perception enuph yet. the ringz are our consciousness, and right now we are stepping into the Th3rd one. 4ørty6ix and ². 3arth. numberz. numerology. lachrymology. its all combined into your Th3rd 3ye. perception. conception. reception. this iz what happenz when you let yourself go. when you let whatever hits your mind out. when you roll with the wavez. swim with the current. go where it takes you. let it lead you thru a path inside your brain you havent been to yet. let it take you thru an untouched fold of brain tissue. 'listen to my muscle memory. contemplate what ive been clinging to. 4ørty6ix and ² are just ahead of me.' fly thru your mind. soar thru the empty space in your head. 'rizing up, and wiping the webz and the dew from my withered 3ye.' dont think about it, just do it. youve been hearing nike say that for yearz and never knew what it meant. 'life iz but a dream.' what if you could wake up in your dream. awake in your dreamscape. take a wakl thru your vizual liquid imagination. then open your 3yez and see what you were seeing all along, only this time its real. you can reach out and touch it, smell it, pheel it. then you see, from the back of your head, that time iz only a little glowing white ørb. an object in a dream you thought waz real. 'see how deep the rabbit hole goez.' and when you saw yourself in your dream, what did you look like? 'its the face in the mirror you thought waz yourz. and where you remember that face from. and thoze 3yez that stare so warmly, into the infinite wizdøm you hold within you.' its what you think you see when you arent looking. start looking at yourself from the outside. look into your own 3yez and go thru the vortex, thru the time warp, (leeets dooo the tiiime waaarp agaaain!!!) thru the little tunnel of thought, till you find yourself outside yourself. step inside yourself. 'step inside your head for a second.' thru the little doørway that you saw when you were watching alice in wønderland. go thru that door, into your own head, like in being john malkovich, when he went into hiz own head. then he fell from the sky... ever wønder why? then you see your reflection in the sky. then you notice that you are 6øÐ. turn yourself inside out, to become the sky. then you see your human self standing there looking up at you, and you wønder if he seez you. if he seez your facez in the sky. if he seez your dreamz in the ocean. if he noticez all the little cluez you leave here and there for him. hinting that he could be 6øÐ, if he steps into himself. reversez the reflection. 'dive into it, like a pool of liquid acid.' become the sky. look into it. look into your own liquid sky. ever wønder why they say 6øÐ iz in the sky? do you see yourself in the sky? do you see your reflection? do you see the perfect circle of balance? the light and dark? the gløwing ørb of time. the birrage of empty reazøn, bombarding you like the truth from a mushroom. i think space iz only dark becauze we have yet to turn on the light. if you thru a rock into outterspace, and it kept going, would it eventually hit the inner wallz of your brain? someone once said that the starz are just your little points of genious, that you come across az you travel thru the space in your head. your innerverse. and the muzik iz a TòóL. a vehikle to carry you thru the space in your head. then you come to a black hole. i think black holez are acid trips, the little parts of your other self, that were pinched off from this dimension, and birthed into alternate realitiez. paralel universez. you take acid to change. to kill a part of yourself to make way for a newer, better self. 'if you kill the brightest flower in your garden, an even brighter one will grow in its place.' you take acid to kill parts of yourself. 'dayz away, i still feel you touching me, changing me, and considerately killing me.' to make way for a rebirth. death iz not the end, its the new beginning. did you ever wønder how far space went? what waz out there? and if you would someday see it? see space for what it iz. all its wønder. i think that our dreamz are actually other selvez connecting to us thru the space in which we exist. letting us see a little glimpse at what we are doing in an alternate reality. glimpsez that we uze in this life, to hepl us understand our livez. cluez and hints that we uze to guide us thru the darkness of our unknown. what if you went to sleep in your bed, then woke up laying in the middle of a grassy field, with treez, bushez, plants, and mushroomz, that all remind you of your dreamworld, az they sing of unified harmony. what if you could go to sleep, dream, and start to cuntrol your dream, and how long you stayed there. what if you could stay in a dream for eternity. what would you call it? life? how would you hepl yourself wake back up? what little cluez could you leave yourself. what little secrets could you share with yourself. what little cluez would you find az you swim thru the foldz of muscle memory and brain tissue inside your head. and if you were creating your own dream, what would it look like, smell like, pheel like. and what other sensez would you add to it. and what if you could create a thing called løve? who would your lover be? would you have just one? would it be your anima? your soulmate? your dreammate? what would your sex be like? æuphøria? how high would your ørgazm take you? would you create plants that would enhance that pheeling? take you higher? would you levitate while making love? fly while having sex? fall endlessly while phuking? how sensual could you make it? how sensual, how sexual could you pheel? would you treat your body like a shrine? like a temple? would you treat your loverz body like a temple? would you love that body with every moment you had? would you pheel it inside you? pheel the løve shining from it? pheel the løve in every sense, not just 5ive. would you løve that temple for eternity? how bæutiphull would it be? and where would you take it? what little hidden secrets could you show it? would you go beyønd? pheel the warmth of the touch. the warmth of the smile. pheel the warmth of the løve that so vividly radiates from their heart. the warmth of staring into their 3yez. with your forehead touching theirz. do you see their Th3rd 3ye? can you see inside them? they say the 3yez are the windøw to the søul. the doørway to their rabbit høle. would you make løve, laying on the grass, in the middle of a forest meadow clearing, while watching the sun rize? or would you have endless sex in the middle of the ocean while watching the sun set? then lay on the beach and sleep. and dream. what would you dream of? would you have sex in your dream? would you fly in your dream? where would you fly to? what unknown placez would you discover? would you travel thru your consciousness? your innerverse? or your outter space? would you dive into a star, to see what æuphøria it holdz? what knowledge it could hold. what secrets it could pozess. what genious it could bring you. and a little hint that you could own your own mind. a little clue that you could be your own 6øÐ...

calm, complacent, and docile

i'm still syck to my stomach that people don't understand how phuking stoopid it iz, that everyone else can get pissed, yell, scream, throw and break shyt, but i, being a man, am not allowed to. i'm not allowed to vent in any healthy way anymore. you've got me all drugged up, so i can't think. and no one understandz this. that iz so phukin nazi, and you dumb phuks refuze to see it. why? becauze i get pissed at stupid shyt? i'm not suppozed to get pissed off. ever. phuk you all. i can't wait to sit and watch your karma come around. phuk, man. but it's ok to watch other people blow up, like denis leary, sam kinison, or bill hicks. they're all yelling on stage, and it's cool, people like it, they pay money to see it. phuk all a you. you'll never see, you'll never understand how phuking retarded that iz. what the phuk. and people say i'm "out of cuntrol"... yeah... aren't we suppozed to be??? look phukin around you. my own phuking mother sayz i'm "out of cuntrol". yeah. izn't that the phuking point? catch on, or the 3volution train will leave you behind. dumb stupid cocksuckerz. so just hand me over to my worst enemy. yeah, hey doc, theze people aren't listening to me. you'da thought i'd put some sort of message in that. mindless. robots. retardz. or... what doez the bug dude say in men in black? barely conscious, un3volved pondscum. yeah. you talk about how the government iz suppressing us, but... we're... not suppozed to fight back? what iz this shyt? who came up with that little plan? they need to be fired and buried alive. you idiots will see. whether i have to pry your 3ye open with a jackhammer and the jawz of life, you will open your 3yez. i am vengence. you'd know that by now, if you had paid any attention to what i've written yearz ago. but phuk everything up, that's great. thanks. rize against the system, or you will die. only the strong survive. and all you are iz all you are. i'm so sorry for you. so sorry. so all hail the new flesh. becauze it suits me fine. this night iz where it all changez.

damnit all to hell

phukin christ dude. i typed up my job song, added a few thingz to it, and i just lost it. i phuking hate it when i do that. i went to restart the computer, and didn't save the notepad it waz in. and speaking of... izn't my kewlpad suppozed to be showing up? what the phuk iz this shyt man. listening to machine head, waiting for my mystress to get home. it's 5:55pm, she should be home in like ten minutes. so, i have to retype up my song again, and try to remember what i changed and added. maybe she can type it up. i wish i had more to say. i'm so phuking bored. i hate this shyt. i hate complaining. i hate lozing writingz. i hate typoz. goddamn shyt. you go to hell. you go to hell and you die. 3volve or die. bastard. with my billion dollar gun. i don't know what the phuk i'm talking about. not that anyone readz this shyt. and you phukerz who vizit and don't read, read and don't comment, comment but don't ponder. don't just say something, say something. shut up and talk. lord what foolz theze mortalz be.

superior phuking race?

i saw some phukin bum kick hiz dog earlier today. so we got on the phone and followed him till the pigz show up. pigz basikally did nuthing. alot of good they do. i pictured myself getting out of the car, running up behind him with my phukin cellphone in my hand, get him on the ground, and have mom run up and get the dog. he kept pulling the dog, hitting it, the dog looked scared shytless. it kept trying to lay down every few steps, and the dickhole would pull him back up. and it's 105 degreez, which meanz the concrete iz twice that. and the pigz didn't do shyt. gave the dog some water in a cup, and said the dog looked well fed. yeah, but the dog also looked scared shytless, you mindless phuks. the phukin bum even admitted to kicking the dog! god this world syckenz me. i think this entire human race should be wiped out for doing shyt like that. if we're gonna phukin think that the phuking human race iz phuking superior to phuking dogz, or any other animal, then we better phuking act like it.

phuking rich people

this dumb ass ugly rich bitch. i went for my shot today, and this ugly phukin cunt, waz over 20 minutes late from her lunch. i'm left waiting with no where to wait, and i see her pull up in this fancy ass car, i just knew it waz her. so i walk in, and sure enuph, this dumb cunt waz the same cunt that i saw pull in 20 minutes late, and go in, and she givez me the shot. this dumb rich phuk, gets to drug people against their will, only works like 4 hourz a day, and gets who knowz how many dayz off during each week. and this dumb bitch iz the one to stab me with her drugz. 20 minutes late from lunch, and that's ok, she can still go on doing her job, so it must be ok. phuk this shyt. i bet it phelt nice to cruize around in that big fancy car, eat your lunch without having to worry about being late, and then just stroll on in and pump them full of drugz. must be a dream job. ........................ [oh, i'm sorry, you thought 3volution stopped.]

warning, nudity and language

dude, uzing the computer iz no phun anymore. it makes me syck. on da, i have almost 1600 page viewz, and i've been here since january '04. 'nudez' haz 2100, and they've been here since may 3rd. it's painfully obvious what people are looking for. we're too lazy to read, and all we want to see iz titty. what the phuk. maybe i'm still posting to the wrong people? if so, are there any right people out there? i thrive for comments on my poetry, which iz very special to me. and picturez of naked women get loadz of comments. and he'z only posted 8 picturez! since may 3rd!!! i have 71 deviationz, and 15 scraps. i don't understand that. i uzed to sit for hourz and do nuthing but phuk around with skinner'z stylez. now there'z no more of that either. if skinner waz still doing stylez, he wouldn't get az many page viewz, but he'z posting picturez. i post text, and get nuthing. i post pure imagination, and get no comments. i phukin hate this. i've hinted to skinner twice now, to make a new skin, and got no response. what the phuk. i uzed to enjoy sitting at my computer. the colourz inspired wordz to come out. changing colourz waz so phun. couldn't wait for the next skin to come out. and it's been almost two yearz now. i just want someone to notice my work. to dig into it a little more than a nudie picture. i want something new to do. thomas tipp waz right. people will read again. or they will fail az a race. what a boring, pointless existence. i alwayz miss the good dayz. thoze synaesthetik memoriez. wasting away.

imperfectionz

well, happy 420 kidz. i had to have one of my back teeth pulled today. today waz a shyt day. my keyboard and mouse died at the same time. coincidence? and i don't like the new keyboard. except that it's black. listening to bill hicks. got nuthin on deviantart. and i don't think i'll see another style from skinner for a while. which phuking sucks. i've been waiting over a year for a new skin, or some new moonbuggy colourz. so depressing. now it's 4-21. i fell asleep before finishing this. oh well, not much to say. i'm currently fascinated by this little chunk of exhibitionizm. well, till next brain muscle function. have phun kidz.

finally home

well kidz, it's phukin april. i dread waking up every morning. i can't think of anything to say. i haven't written anything since i got home. can't think that well. and my phukin bass speaker iz busted, and lost it's volume knob. that so pissez me off. well, just wanted to make an update on this, i haven't done shyt with it in months. i had such different planz for this little blog thing. high hopes. no poetik thoughts. i'm so tired of this. why can't i leave this cuntry? why can't i get out of here. this little truman show deal. i need to trim my fingernailz. never really home again. we lost our home. we had big dreamz for that place too. everything just goez down, down, down. changez happen a little too often, sometimez. and i can't find the fingernail clipperz. goddamnit. 10:23am. i wanted a bowl of cereal, and the milk iz bad. and now my phuking e key iz stuck, so i can't type anything. phukin great. well, i guess that's all for now.

think v²·º

are you blind? can’t you see we’re running out of time?
popularized, economized, society’z hypnotized
it’s hysterikal; the system’z a magazine, a mass deluzion in the tv screen
drama driving limouzinez, facez blank, and a little obscene
preacherz are the millionairez, looking around, we just don’t care
disguized and sterilized, the suits and tiez, gathering fliez
free your brain, go insane, let chaos find a new terrain
yesterday’z pain iz tomorrow’z gain, but don’t let it fool you, we are today
and what if we were born yesterday? what if we just appeared here?
would it be az clear? that we could hear anything, say a word of any meaning
discover that we are not alone, that this iz not our home
that this little planet we’re on, iz just a boat ride in the sky, a daydream in disguize
just let it wash over your 3yez, like the blue horizon, and you’ll see what i mean
we are not just the reflection in the tv screen, facez in a magazine
everything they said waz liez, from the big bang to the chimpanzeez, oh pleaze
it’s a dizeaze, a universal cancer, and we are the cure, we are pure
we are a mind, living liquid time, an infinite, 3ternal consciousness, dressed to impress
here to learn, here to grow, here to rock everywhere we go
here to share, so be prepared, something might be in there
but don’t be frightened, don’t be scared, there’z nuthing to fear; it’s just a bare... necessity
i think you know what’s lifting me, changing me, 3volving me
i think we’re going in sane, truth for the brain, halluci’nation’ rayne
a universal mind, alwayz crossing linez, an infinite divine
so are we squeaky clear, that this is why we’re here
theze vibrationz, and energy, all giving life to me, a breathing sea
i think you know what’s inside me, and inside you, universal goo
i think you know what’s keeping us from tearing open, morphing to the other side
i think you know what’s letting us spread our wingz, and squeegee the goo from our Th3rd 3ye
see, we both know you’re not blind, and we’re not running out of linear time
it waz all a scam, an outright phuking horseshyt lie, the work of a comedy mastermind
made to make you believe in the one thing that won’t let you 3volve
to not think for yourself, to not question why
why would you not think for yourself, george?
see, i did it all by myself, i just thought myself into it
and you can too. that’s all you have to do. think.