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Age / Gender:
33, Male
Location:
Globe of Earlobe
Joined:
7/10/08
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I am here to make a difference, isn't that why we're all here?

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33 Hertz

2016-05-24 17:43:24 by nietzlawe

33 HERTZ

When fully plugged in, nobody else can get a look in. Not even the good looking ones. This is my patch, my turf, I've marked my territory through notorious terror. But mostly with laborious efforts. Dropped out of Modern Day Société to partake in this Voyage of Discovery. Flotation tanks... even lying down tanks. Even tanks that you sit in and shoot soldiers with! Oh my fuckin' lord, Dead-Bo dies! Scattered! Oh the carnage! Oh the horror! Oh the... enjoyment!! Why would I want to get tanked up? I'm TeeHeeHeeTotal... Completely sober during my trip to Ober Gatlinburg. But just incase, I've brought my gatling gun and Lene Marlin because I'm just an Unforgivable Sinner... Breaking rules, even shaking up the rule-makers shouting "vy vust you do these rules?! Nein!!!" Don't know why I suddenly started talking German. It isn't fair man (so Hitler slaughtered him)... Like when Herman shoved a gerbil in my anus. And it bled for weeks on end and led me to believe I was nearing the end of my life. When in actual fact, I had just consumed a curry that was so ridiculously hot! So stupendously spicy! That anal fissures found the whole shit suspicious. Like a package in an airport. But you couldn't lay the blame of suspicion on me, as I was sat listening to Loscil - Stases and doing a Code Breaker puzzle book. "There are a lot of 13's.. they must be E's." Talk about an old-fashioned form of fucking entertainment. My brain is still in the Dark Ages with the archangels. Nothing will ever change except my chains might rust. And I might never learn to trust my own instincts again. Its like a flotation tank I'm in, of self-loathing. If only there was an easy way of pressing the self-destruct trigger. Constructive triggercism. Positively mind-blown, bits of blood and brain all over my lawn. Freshly cut Peshmerga. "Any a'last'a'wordsa?" No, Luigi. Get out of my kitchen, and take the fucking lichen with you on a flight to Liechtenstein, as frankly I'm sick of bitching and whining and would rather get on with drinking wine until I can't see out of my eyeballs. Legless and Lifeless, mind on a knife edge.. pillow. Dreaming of a New Age Jew Mother to conceive me. A 33rd Hertz child. Poking his head out wondering what its all about? All I see are the doctors and nurses falling out. As I'm crawling out drunk from the Bearded Clam. Nothing on Earth is as weird as man. We are the bane, instigators of stress and pain, yet dressing up our aggression in cotton wool. No matter how much evolution, we haven't forgotten how to pull the gun trigger. We've forgotten how to love and need each other. Now that Civilisation has become Uncivilisation. Or has it? I see progress, light at the end of the tunnel if I can just get my elbow out of this divot. Can't give up until I live up to my own expectations. Got to pick up from where we last were stationed... More like marooned, on this crimson island surrounded by Thai brides that have me tied, bridled and ready to ride. Human pony is better than being a lonely human, I'd rather be lowly, used, battered and bruised.. have my cock crushed by ladies shoes and lose in 207 successive tennis matches to a player ranked #207,567th in the world. And that person is blind, sat in a wheelchair and possesses no racquet. Lose 6-1 in the decider, don't even put up a fucking fight, what a goddamn loser you are, Nietzy boy! You had your chances and messed up. You could have had the world at your feet, instead you're at the world's feet, sniffing bunions for fun.. but hell if Trump can run for President then there's hope for anyone in this godforsaken mod rocker haven of enslavement. Survival of the fittest and all that... Whatever happened to Survival of the Fattest? Fuck these muscled chiselled bastards who think they rule the woyyyld. Fat bastards for the win I say! Its time for the most vulnerable and affected members of our society to rule with an Iron Fist. Or at least a flabby one! Its time to break down barriers of hate, and come together, by cumming together. The stakes are strangely higher than James Kingston hanging off a crane with insane relish. James Wingston. Flying man like Tim Peake playing a Weekender mouth organ on weekdays. Gets boring circling the Earth over and over again. Looking down at the bugs below, can't hear Jeff Lynne or the Swing Mood song I made when I was happy and in high spirits. You can't see depression from that height, and everything looks alright. I wonder what World War 3 would look like from Space? Pretty fucking mental! ... But not pretty... unlike those Pretty Little Liars... the eye candy. Interpret that how you like. In a whole new lingua Franklin if you wish... but wishing wont make your hopes and dreams come true, even though you wish that they would... and ironically THAT does come true... Like a new cinema film called Cum II - Seed Extraction. 33 Hertz seems fitting, like a man with epilepsy. Having another episode. S2 E15 of The Man With the Secret Seizures. He doesn't tell anyone he has the illness, but its really tough to time and hide the convulsions. Have seizures and hope nobody sees'ya, like a cat when they wander off alone to die in peace, without the Paps invading those Private South China Seas. I'm not concerned with the land, I've already marked my territory, made my peace with Odd God Eddie, but I'm not ready to die yet, not until I've been cloned, executed and the fake me is sent out into the world as a perfect role model. Saying all the things that I never would say, like now, as the real me would have used ellipsis 650 times in 3 lines. But that hasn't happened, and we must pack our bags, set sail and find out the Why. What, Where and When. The Sweet Science of Juicy Gossip. Those Art Form Rumours. But I fear we may never discover, what's under this cover which hides so many secrets. Giving you sleepless nights. Probably the crazy things that your penis likes. Jesus Christ! Jesus cries... probably from being nailed to that cross. That would have made me angry. Even though I have no rage left, just the impatience of a saint, but its too late to stage an uprising.


Land of the Living Experimental Song
Ten Years From Now Experimental Song
Make Our Way Hip Hop - Modern Song
Walker Mitty Ambient Song

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