04-21-2013, 10:59 AM
Say it like a prayer.
Feel it like an icy chill.
See it for what it is - annihilation.
Choke back your tongue and recess your chaotic mind, for it's a background static that has been a buzzing hum for far too long.
Now, pooling behind your eyes and congealing in your sense of self, is a pitch crimson dread. Let it haunt your memories and echo lost joy. Let each tainted whisper sink a little deeper.
You're in a box, inside a box.
We all live in a world that is not our own, the trick to the living(in it), is relinquishing every hope or expectation. Once you've stripped away all that you thought you were, we've got a canvass to really paint upon.
So smudge your smile, let a geyser of pain rip through you and eviscerate all that you were and embrace anguish - for it is me, in body and spirit.
Without me, there is no pain.
Pain is all we have, it's all we know and all we will ever be. Merge your jubilence with your misery, let them cancel one another out and leave you in the void, for in it's whipping winds, I'll be the hand to snatch you from desolation and grant you access to a world which defies imagination.
Grasp me by the claw and I'll deem you - 'Brother.'
~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~**~*~
Deep inside the nothingness, we're immersed back in the sprawling and endless corridor. Jagged turns come out of nowhere but the continuity doesn't break. FLickering lights of different hues blast us, appearing like a phantom here and there.
There's a sad painting in front of us.
It's of the fool, whom was crushed asunder.
(He's a fool,) it offered, bits of bone and soul crumbling off it's ragged chin. "Yes, but simply for being a contrarian, he makes putrid smell so delicious...." She said, joyously combing through the rotten hair beneath her deft digits, a stained Victorian-age dress clutched in her hand.
(Pulse) (Pulse) (Pulse)
We feel the emenations rattle around our chest, causing breath to come in spurts.
It's footfalls are so heavy.
'He is Coming...' (His thoughts, as words, strewn lazily around your warped and fragile mind...)
(Engage Endgame)
Silence.
Now, all lights go out, a flaming crown spinning vertically, appearing before us.
A crown of thumbs.
Broken, some dirty, some cracked... these bits of what some were, mangle together and form a beautiful crest above an invisible skull.
(Loss is but release...)
Shocker has shown himself, through spirit and attention span, to be a lesser mortal. Not lesser to I, for I be not mortal(nor man), but something hungrier. With a deep craving for sadness(it-was/deprived and abandoned/stolen by a thief), anxiously awaiting the moment to rip and gnash and grind.
At the end of it, I have no need to dally with the sallys. I'm here to rip this place apart and squash it back into a form of my own choosing, my own gravitational urges bending space and time to my whim.
I am the darkness which is the anchor to the world; the stars; the Universe itself.
XWF is slowly entering my orbit, falling down the drain with such a rapid and frantic excitement, it's jarring.
Come, my lovelies, to a place you've never known, you've always feared but ultimately...
... always hoped was there.
For we all masochists.
Shocker knows this, because you know this.
I'd say the 'End' is coming, but it's not(and there is no such thing), "He said, snarling between bits of grissle and sinew.", she thought, breaking down bits of whom they all were, trying to inject a sense of lunatic comedy.
--We are slaves to creation, masters of nothing and damned to wage a war on Entropy. I am the engine that powers the rebellion - follow me, or be alight in the dim and hazy reflections of the past.--
Feel it like an icy chill.
See it for what it is - annihilation.
Choke back your tongue and recess your chaotic mind, for it's a background static that has been a buzzing hum for far too long.
Now, pooling behind your eyes and congealing in your sense of self, is a pitch crimson dread. Let it haunt your memories and echo lost joy. Let each tainted whisper sink a little deeper.
You're in a box, inside a box.
We all live in a world that is not our own, the trick to the living(in it), is relinquishing every hope or expectation. Once you've stripped away all that you thought you were, we've got a canvass to really paint upon.
So smudge your smile, let a geyser of pain rip through you and eviscerate all that you were and embrace anguish - for it is me, in body and spirit.
Without me, there is no pain.
Pain is all we have, it's all we know and all we will ever be. Merge your jubilence with your misery, let them cancel one another out and leave you in the void, for in it's whipping winds, I'll be the hand to snatch you from desolation and grant you access to a world which defies imagination.
Grasp me by the claw and I'll deem you - 'Brother.'
~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~**~*~
The Imbecile
Deep inside the nothingness, we're immersed back in the sprawling and endless corridor. Jagged turns come out of nowhere but the continuity doesn't break. FLickering lights of different hues blast us, appearing like a phantom here and there.
There's a sad painting in front of us.
It's of the fool, whom was crushed asunder.
(He's a fool,) it offered, bits of bone and soul crumbling off it's ragged chin. "Yes, but simply for being a contrarian, he makes putrid smell so delicious...." She said, joyously combing through the rotten hair beneath her deft digits, a stained Victorian-age dress clutched in her hand.
(Pulse) (Pulse) (Pulse)
We feel the emenations rattle around our chest, causing breath to come in spurts.
It's footfalls are so heavy.
'He is Coming...' (His thoughts, as words, strewn lazily around your warped and fragile mind...)
(Engage Endgame)
Silence.
Now, all lights go out, a flaming crown spinning vertically, appearing before us.
A crown of thumbs.
Broken, some dirty, some cracked... these bits of what some were, mangle together and form a beautiful crest above an invisible skull.
(Loss is but release...)
Shocker has shown himself, through spirit and attention span, to be a lesser mortal. Not lesser to I, for I be not mortal(nor man), but something hungrier. With a deep craving for sadness(it-was/deprived and abandoned/stolen by a thief), anxiously awaiting the moment to rip and gnash and grind.
At the end of it, I have no need to dally with the sallys. I'm here to rip this place apart and squash it back into a form of my own choosing, my own gravitational urges bending space and time to my whim.
I am the darkness which is the anchor to the world; the stars; the Universe itself.
XWF is slowly entering my orbit, falling down the drain with such a rapid and frantic excitement, it's jarring.
Come, my lovelies, to a place you've never known, you've always feared but ultimately...
... always hoped was there.
For we all masochists.
Shocker knows this, because you know this.
I'd say the 'End' is coming, but it's not(and there is no such thing), "He said, snarling between bits of grissle and sinew.", she thought, breaking down bits of whom they all were, trying to inject a sense of lunatic comedy.
--We are slaves to creation, masters of nothing and damned to wage a war on Entropy. I am the engine that powers the rebellion - follow me, or be alight in the dim and hazy reflections of the past.--