Contact Info / Websites
WRODS OF WISODM
Its like steel implanted wrods have been implanted in my mind. Am I a maniac like the man from Maine with a mane hacking his way through insane people's brains with an axe? Who is crazy, me or you? I'm too lazy to sift through my PMs, my eyes just skip to the end, and that's a sign that something is amiss when you feel too lazy to even go to the toilet and piss. Your erection could reach it from here, but you're too lazy, you've fallen headlong into the drivers headlights at the dead of night, you'll be dead tonight. I don't want to foretell the future or smell of death, but why else would I feel like a empty shell of myself? A vessel filled with gas and wind, my head spins and I feel like I'm stuck in a virtual sim, nothing seems real, except this recurring dream that I'm stood in this green field, surrounded by only the things I love. No longer tolerating the bullshit, no longer pissed at being amidst a mist of angry human fists all competing, fighting each other to get there. But get where? That's the million dollar question? Winning that amount of money will only mess them up. Being rich is a curse, a precursor to the worst days of your life because you froze out everyone you knew and love to chase fame, its a strange world we live in, the alternative is nothing. Will you do your bit? Play your part in the Bigger Scheme of Things? The rope ladder just out of reach, the exit point unreachable and you wallow in the Doldrums like its limbo, like you are Tom Hanks in The Terminal. Only in the Doldrums you wont get to meet Catherine Zeta Jones, instead you get to meet Doctor Creepsake and nurses that only took the job so that they could beat the shit out of you on a regular or irregular basis. Life in the Doldrums can be exceptionally harsh, like if Nicole Scherzinger was just about to bring you to orgasm then just stopped and walked away like some sultry traveller into the sunset. We rarely see sun in this country, its like we are bad fathers. Sweating ike dead martyrs, Remi Martyrs, its suicide to drink it, like going to Switzerland and knowing you are safe from warfare. You are however allowed to attend War Fairs, where you can buy raffle tickets to win camouflage army pants. I hate wars and fighting, its all in vain, I'd rather be slain by an invasion when the Chinese invade this nation. England is not home, its merely a geographical location. I'd like to think the Earth is a single home, I don't want to defend territory or join the history of pawns who have drawn blood for nothing. A multiplex of greed and depravity, its infected us all, we all commit Hari-kari at some point. No, I don't want to buy into these future world wars, the dystopia. Let's leave the planet because there's no hope here. Time to book one of Richard Branson's space flights.