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A Spiritual Fight

2016-11-29 02:51:41 by nietzlawe


An addiction can make a good person do bad things in the heat of the moment without knowing he meant it.
Where were you when I wrote this wall of text, like its some Wall Street breast of knowledge. Get this shit off a journalist's chest, like a tit. I'm hooked man, on the Fresh Flesh, El Fleshco. Flashlights needed to find the fleshlight... Josef Fritzl's last flight to hell a.k.a. the prison cell. Boo Hoo! Let's play the violins and cellos! Lie flat like hi hats that have been trampled low, meanwhile the pressure has been ramped up and snapped a bone in its leg like that guy in Freddy Got Fingered on the half pipe... Friedrich Nietzsche got fingered! I must tell the media immediate.. Lee, so Lee Child can reach out and leech my ideas and teach me how to write novels. How very novel of you Mr. Know It All... Showing off coz ya grandfolks are present, witnesses in the room to this dang massacre of Texan Chainsaws, all licenced under one man's name - Leatherface. HeathLedgerFace. How does he always end up in vending machines? Sending me round the bend quicker than a gay man... They say there is strength in numbers. Six pack... Sit back, Relax, and read on as I relapse while you collapse in fits of laughter. I just fit like some epileptic schitzo Jew called Fritz Meyer. Fuck! And I'm running for Mayor! How can I take such an important role while under the influence of ignorance? Its too big to ignore like IGN and an iron ore business venture... Or Microsoft and Benjamin Linux washing their jam-coated linen in public. Scum in the bottom of Elizabeth's blood-filled bath. Bluto's corpse found, razor blades ft. wrist cuttings. Sounds like an R&B duo. RAB C NESS has bitten off more than he can chew. His mouth is now full of thrush. "Thrush?! So that's what they're callin' it now!" Mouthwash. Wooahhh, you should now watch what you're saying... after all... you are a Role Model Mr. Nietz! No I'm a model novelist. Sophie or Roald Dahl, a sophomore teen media darling with a sopping pussy hole. Puss C. Hall must be filling up. Or jilling. Killing off brain cells instead of being the Brains of Britain. Time to reign supreme again, mentally climb cranes and write sublime, as a malign mind untangles a line of skein into some kind of alignment. Dragging the dragons into the doldrums where we can assault them. Cold War(m). These old arms are getting heavy, yet ready to demonstrate their traits of demon power despite the pain in their humeri. New heights New merits, few fight with eight hermits who are more than determined to further their careers, whether they are sanctioned, or worse, in arrears, burdened and saddled with debt and already addled in the head. I've got the backing I need to stack this ammo and attract these carrots, steal their sticks and beat them with them. To teach a thing or two about being treated badly. A lesson in Brute Force Tality. Totalitarian like 'that's like... sooo totalitarian.' Like an American chick making light of a dictatorship. Beats being on the dick tasting ship all because you signed a Scientology kidnap contract and ended up in rundowns that caused you to be run down and under the weather, low ebb, but if I didn't have low ebb I'd have no ebb at all. Ebbatol sounds like one of those prescription drugs a celebrity would get hooked on. That's until it takes its ebba toll on their bodies and they break down and end up moydered by the Illuminated Ones. What's so illuminating about those shiny glowing yellow bastard Sin City fiends? Waving their torches and flashlights, reading out the last rites of their victims. What a pastime to have! Ritual sacrifice which is literal sacrifice might I add. "Don't ask permission just to add. If you want to add, just fucking add!!" Adderall. Swallow drugs while watching Blackadder all day long with my brain singing this strange song in my head, that's wrong on so many levels. Like being stoned in Afghanistan by grown men who grow beards and go weird for no reason, calm down, learn to love and live in peace. Ever heard of a threesome? No need to be so nauseating. I live for the day that we eventually deliver liberation. Worldwide. No need to chase a white world or fight amongst ourselves over Pound Sterling. There is more than enough for sharing from those that are fair enough to spare it. But they don't care enough, its scary.

By God I'm beyond odd, ie. Bill, like a birdwatching hobby. Gobby mouth, I need an aloo ball gag, but also a loo to poo it out. No saag paneer, sad that I've no career, just a Korean women infatuation where even just seeing them sears the imagination. Maybe I'm 'going clear,' Scientology speak. Tom Cruise demands I make an apology for making a 'going queer' speech. I Joke I Joke I Keed I Keed! I choke a Jehovah Witness, and ironically there is nobody there to witness it. Man I need to turn over a new leaf or fold it repeatedly until it makes that satisfying cracking sound over and over. Lather, rinse and repeatersererers... Rinse my winsy spider, make it Rise for Katy, this mind is the result of being isolated too long, cut off from civilised Asians. Civilisation, as I simulate in my head the beauty of a Civil Rights movement. Trump may look like the solution, but I guarantee that he's just another pawn of the Prawn Sandwich Brigade.

And so... several days passed before continuing with the Random Bullshit once more. The Random Bullshit Man was seldom in tandem, everything he said was Random to its very core. Like drinking Coors light with a Complan. Because that's the kind of Man that Random Bullshit Man was. You never could prepare for what he was going to do next. Swallow tadpoles or shoot up sheep. Hang pictures upside down or land on the moon and hop from crater to crater while watching Kramer vs Kramer. Its boring if we're all the Same. To put it in Laymans you have to make your own fashion statement. Be bold and brave, don't be a slave to restraint, it ain't your place to rest. you must stray and let your mind play, wander, let your brain abscond or have scones, whatever it wants. The zest of life is to put pesto on tampons... hang on! That's sick! Sicker than Stickman spitting on sticklers and tickling their fancy with phlegm. In and Out Xi, shake it all about Xi... You now see that no mountain is too high to clamber, to create history in Elisalamberheard. Ich Bin Ein Berliner. Hiding behind the perimeter, meting out punishment to Yetis and sweaty nudists who want to capture me and get me in a headlock. Man you talk like you have had your head knocked already, and people read this blog like they've already read it before. So they are desensitised to anything upsetting, its kind of moreish.

The pleasure that one gets from seeing the magic Wanda get waved over this whole industry. Like a red anaconda that noone can abscond from, as it can crush your abs in seconds. But there is no rush to push this plan all at once, one must be patient with the PROClamation of dependence. No defence strategy, only being put on the end of a stick and constantly dunked in the deep end. This is fun. The pleasure of being under the thumb... of rule. Only fools would fight, while I would recommend inviting the inevitable instead of being like a fish that tries to bite the line. Or step out of it. Risk jail, a fine, a long time on supervision. Even the wrong body language is a crime. We have to take that mind of yours and find it a new place. A spartan startup in the middle of nowhere. Where you know noone. A city of strangers all trained not to stray too far, or exceed their exclusion zones. Curfews to keep them at home and turn them into social recluses. You have nothing to lose, as being obedient is beautiful. Almost artistic as we start to clean this Contaminated Room. From this world I hold no fear, for it is already here.

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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