dogdogdog
"Like, beware of the Ides of March, man."
"Who the FUCK do you think you're talking to, you little FUCK?"
Julius Caesar looks into the crowd at this little nerd who think's he's got balls. "Little NERD."
Everyone laughs.
He is so happy. His couch is so soft. If he had a choice, he would carry the couch with him all over the place, so he could feel its softness. But he can't. Just the thought of unsoftness hurts his skin.
It is always night. There are spirits flying through tunnels in reality. In the distance there is a computer with a screen for every person that has ever existed. THIS is reality.
I want to know what I want. I'm constantly filled with this feeling of yearning for something. I don't know what it is. It makes my chest hurt. I get it sometimes when I wake up from a wild dream and find the chaotic reverie dissolve into night. I'm sick of everything.
"I have this concept of building a tower a million miles high. It will be visible from all over the world, and we will become like gods," said the man. But when they built it, only people on that side of the hemisphere could see it.
Concept. Conception. It bothers me that I can't figure out why I have less of a problem with infanticide than I do with abortion. Morality is largely dictated by feeling. It bothers me that that bothers me, and that I care to have my feelings grounded in fact. It bothers me that I've been programmed to do so many things. I read about psychological characteristics that most people are unaware they have, and I found that most were true for me. Predictably irrational, or something.
He hands you a key with a bit of white powder at the tip. "Ketamine?"
"I... uh..." You rummage through your mind for that brochure you received in health class for a way to turn this guy down, but the forces of evil have wiped you clean. You begin to panic.
The bear is walking in the woods when he hears a snap. He lifts his arm up only to find it has been clamped in the jaws of some grand and terrible device. The blood is spewing everywhere. Oh my God. He does not know what is going on anymore.
LET'S MAKE A STATEMENT! LET'S MAKE IT LOUD AND PROUD FOR THE WORLD TO HEAR! THE HOLOCAUST NEVER HAPPENED!
gum is sticky. it sticks to everything. it didn't have any friends at first because it would get way too close to people, way too quickly. then it saw a counselor for attachment issues. and then it killed itself. gum is a metaphor for socially inept kids.
writing since 1969 · 15 entries · 14 days shown up
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bothersmilliontowersclimbingtryingfarsoftflyingholdergumgodlessreadmomentarmsrest