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RaMblingS · of · a · MadmAn

moving through life, glancing at the statues that once used to be people.

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* * *
lets presume the world
still lives,
and lets presume,
for the sake of the argument

that not everything is gray.
that not everyone is alive.

again for the sake of conversation
we assume that we are
flesh - pink, catatonic, almost dead, rotten, newborn
sliced open from the inside
torn between

in the end,
it won't matter.
the empty desert will still be there
waiting and
longing (desiring) for
the only thing we have.

and then,

its already over.

" Remember, remember, the 5th of November
The Gunpowder Treason and plot;
I know of no reason why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot. "
V for Vendetta

Soul Mood:
Sensory overload:
michael nyman - impromtu for 12 fingers
* * *
i tried to enjoy myself tonight,
it was quite amusing.

a thousand of people,
trying to move around.

it is good,
to feel lost,
to identify with the
humongous mass of people.

lets see,
when will it happen
what is my turning point

how can i forget my problems,
and live a life like it was before
while being grown up
was so far away

time to sleep
to forget these troubles.

"HAL: I'm afraid. I'm afraid, Dave. Dave, my mind is going. I can feel it. I can feel it. My mind is going. There is no question about it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I'm a... fraid. Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am a HAL 9000 computer. I became operational at the H.A.L. plant in Urbana, Illinois on the 12th of January 1992. My instructor was Mr. Langley, and he taught me to sing a song. If you'd like to hear it I can sing it for you.
Dave Bowman: Yes, I'd like to hear it, HAL. Sing it for me."

2001: A Space Odyssey
Soul Mood:
Sensory overload:
* * *
The real pain
like this shell of mine.

i try to imagine a better day
for now, i enjoy the
of this cigarette.

Today was good,
better than the day before.

She called me,
I answered,

"There is only one thing that arouses animals more than pleasure, and that is pain. Under torture you are as if under the dominion of those grasses that produce visions. Everything you have heard told, everything you have read returns to your mind, as if you were being transported, not toward heaven, but toward hell. Under torture you say not only what the inquisitor wants, but also what you imagine might please him, because a bond (this, truly, diabolical) is established between you and him."

Umberto Eco

Soul Mood:
Sensory overload:
Tristania... Beyond.the.Veil
* * *
Kicking my
blood sips
through the pores of sanity
i am afraid.

I wish i could change
my feelings
to stop caring
or to care, but not.

How is it supposed to work
this forsaken life

If i am an shadow, then
what is the use
where is the allsignificat point.

There is something very wrong
burning in my head.

How can i
when she carved her name
deep inside me.

"Vietnam, me love you long time. All day, all night, me love you long time."
Alex Garland - The Beach

Soul Mood:
Sensory overload:
Pixies...Lady in the radiator
* * *
Drinking my
sorrow, i take another
but the glass
fall down empty,
like the feelings inside,

Today, i decided to be
nearly human.
And it worked,
i met new people.

Whats the use,
when they resemble

She tells me her name,
and i cant remember what to yell
while paradise opens upon me.


"Everyone's a book of blood; whenever we're opened we're red."
Clive Barker. Books of Blood.

Soul Mood:
Sensory overload:
* * *
* * *
Blood covered hands
fuck you,
and eyes stare at your back.

I stab my self
once again,
my rightful punishment,
for still loving you.

But, you keep walking.
after all this time,
i still love you.

And now, you return.
Fuck you.
You hurt me,
and now you return.

I won't love you again,
i will cut my hands,
and take my eyes out,
I won't love you again.
Fuck you.

You try to taste me,
but my dick lies dead.
you guide my hand,

to me
your cunt
is dead

you touch my lips,
and dreams become truth,
but now, dreams are nightmares.

This time, your smell
is bitter.

"John Doe: What sick ridiculous puppets we are / and what gross little stage we dance on / What fun we have dancing and fucking / Not a care in the world / Not knowing that we are nothing / We are not what was intended."
Soul Mood:
Sensory overload:
* * *
Falling is never
a pretty sight.

To have a bird
fall before
you take another breath,
To have a statue
look at you,
taking that breath.
And they desire
taking that breath.

But still,
we take that breath,
thinking of death,
thinking of despair.

And when we stop
taking that breath.
They still stare,
looking at us

I walk down the street,
I give my breath to
you, statue of
Hoping to redeem my soul.
But, i am insignificant
drowning in solitude
surrounded by people.

"Antonius Block: I want to confess as best I can, but my heart is void. The void is a mirror. I see my face and feel loathing and horror. My indifference to humanity has shut me out. I live now in a world of ghosts, a prisoner in my dreams. "
The Seventh Seal

Soul Mood:
Sensory overload:
* * *
Everlasting sun cast
red shadows over the horison,
deserted, abandoned, isolated horizon.
a desert of my soul.

As i walk,
the sand begins to change,
and blue tears of heaven
start to dissipate.

my eyes fill with tears,
blood tears that roll
burning flesh as they roll
making all past scars

anarchy of sand
starts to escape my sanity,
and a sinister presence emerges from the west.


"It means that we're just dolls. We don't have a clue what's really going down, we just kid ourselves that we're in control of our lives while a paper's thickness away things that would drive us mad if we thought about them for too long play with us, and move us around from room to room, and put us away at night when they're tired, or bored."

From Rose Walker's diary, in Neil Gaiman's SANDMAN #16: "Lost Hearts"
Soul Mood:
Sensory overload:
* * *
last drop is gone
wish i had more of this
green poison
to touch me

i became insomniac
i became lost
between dreams and reality

and tomorrow, a mask
happy, smiling mask.

i need to take control
i will try to teach tomorrow
try to guide some souls to some answers
whats the use,
no one cares.

i wonder
was it a right choice
can i imprint some
fresh ideas
vivid dreams
into those who came to my classes

can they tell
beneath my mask
can they see
the flesh, the scars, the pain

how can one tell
when everyone else is a sheep
i do not wish to be the shepard

to break the bonds
of deluded self centered shadows
who claim to be people.

i roll another cigarette
for that is all i have
i touch the fire

i still feel.

i still live.
another day has gone,
so many unnecessary conversations.

a cacophony of silenced echoes
resides in my head.

"The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned
to a dead channel."
Soul Mood:
Sensory overload:
* * *
I woke up,
sweating, cursing, crying, kicking
my head
against the brick wall
that tastes like nicotine,

i dreamed of her
again and again and again.
fuck this,
said the merchant, and tore off some flesh
i do not need this any more.

a raging erection
kills my brain cells
i get into the shower, hot water burns my body.
fuck this,
said Hamlet, when daddy came and visited him
i do not need this anymore.

i was dreaming of a better life
empty life
i was writing, sitting in an empty
better room.
she came, naked
her flesh was pink
like a manifesto of pain
her flesh was from hell.
fuck this,
said Charles Bovary and started reading the letters
i do not need this anymore.

She sat on the table,
She spread her legs,
She kissed my hand,

once more, i can feel (taste, touch, smell, think)
her pink inside
i would throw up,
but i was ecstatic.
fuck this,
said Charles Dexter Ward as he stumbled into insanity
i do not need this anymore.

industrial cunnilingus destroys
the smile of my face
scars on my back
remind me of my fall
fuck this.

"Then too, the natives are mortally afraid of the numerous whippoorwills which grow vocal on warm nights. It is vowed that the birds are psychopomps lying in wait for the souls of the dying, and that they time their eerie cries in unison with the sufferer's struggling breath. If they can catch the fleeing soul when it leaves the body, they instantly flutter away chittering in daemoniac laughter; but if they fail, they subside gradually into a disappointed silence."
H.P.Lovecraft."The Dunwich Horror"
Soul Mood:
Sensory overload:
* * *
* * *