Useless Bantering
04/28/98

Shedded tears never fell so heavily. Then the words spoken, got plainer. The maring eyes leave an impression on my neck hairs. Curse these eyes. Chaos is cleansied by the symphony of the devil. Fisted by the energy that feeds it, you and I have no choice but to accept it. The gentlest prize is always flawed. Smeared with the anger of womankind and fired by the pathos of my eyes. Tempted, filled with bitterness towards liars, for what have they ever given me, besides a place to lay down and die? Misery runs free out of the cracks in my hands. I'm not that bad for a deranged guy.

DIE DIE DIE!

Why are there believers at all? Hope was lost a long time ago. Step up to the register and cash in your chips. Your debts will not be paid, your home will be lost. Nothing to look foward to or anywhere to sleep tonight. Maybe things are about to change.

DIE DIE DIE!

Sentenced to death by skinny little fingers. Mis-instructed, results with no end. Where's my cut? Speak softly for my ears are tender. Maybe he is the user or just a self-abuser. Spindels and toriquets apply the knowledge needed. Jacques Cousteau did not die in vain, rather a hero. My communist ties show brightly. Flamboyant in my approach. Moment's peace? The uprising was all mine. Bravely, I stand, by myself. Subjected to the mockery of all. Open game. Blame me for everything cause one way or another, it's my fault. Then it was seen: There is something bad about him. Stolen moments account not for much.

DIE DIE DIE !

Our time was stolen, never to be recovered. So sit pretty and pretend none of this ever happened. You will never know the truth or what really happened. Fabricating wild tales. Mistruths about all of history. Man never step on the moon, it was all staged and recorded in Hollywood. Columbus didn't discover anything. He stole it and claimed it for his own country. I want to read a story but all the books lie. My head spins, confused from all the lies. Protest the lies. Time is running out, all most gone. It's time, not to say goodbye, but rather a period in which to reflect on the insanity that fills me. The last tick of the tock is here, signaling the beginning of the end. So sit back and enjoy the ride...

1