"You think the world revolves around you!"
Ok, statement made. This time I don't even remember by who, but it's so iterated that all I remember is recognition snaking it's way forth the moment it was verbalised. By whoever the fuck.
"I am a nice person." Hah, I can't say that straight without smiling. Can't write that without smiling! "I swear, I am..."
Someone makes me sit and tells me how to breathe so that I burn lesser oxygen, for meditational purposes, of course, yas. Another makes me sit and tells me how I ought to understand more about cerebro-spinal fuckery (Laxative So Delightful) from her. What?
I want to shed it all. Fling away my weapons, my walls, my books, rubbish:people, some clothes maybe, technology, the matrix, understood truths. But everyday, my Quest is compromised, at first by the bastard alarm clock and subsequently by the endless (role)players which enter and leave my body at astonishing speeds. Night and day, night and day, night and day, I strive unique thought and superiority. Oh, I'm growing old and tired. Yes, I should give up. But hey, at times I do feel so refreshed, I tells ya. Motifuckingvated to fuck around further. By, and for, the giant toy store I wander through, innocent Alice-back at first, but furtively tumbling into the darn hole behind the curtain at the back end (of the store). Oh, you know there's no going back from that one.
Expansion? Tell me how. Should I push out a third eye from a mental vagina? Should I stare at myself *astral top shot* and confirm how the world fucking does revolve around me?
Yeah, so...
Take a walk, baby, and just keep nodding, yo.
Ok, statement made. This time I don't even remember by who, but it's so iterated that all I remember is recognition snaking it's way forth the moment it was verbalised. By whoever the fuck.
"I am a nice person." Hah, I can't say that straight without smiling. Can't write that without smiling! "I swear, I am..."
Someone makes me sit and tells me how to breathe so that I burn lesser oxygen, for meditational purposes, of course, yas. Another makes me sit and tells me how I ought to understand more about cerebro-spinal fuckery (Laxative So Delightful) from her. What?
I want to shed it all. Fling away my weapons, my walls, my books, rubbish:people, some clothes maybe, technology, the matrix, understood truths. But everyday, my Quest is compromised, at first by the bastard alarm clock and subsequently by the endless (role)players which enter and leave my body at astonishing speeds. Night and day, night and day, night and day, I strive unique thought and superiority. Oh, I'm growing old and tired. Yes, I should give up. But hey, at times I do feel so refreshed, I tells ya. Motifuckingvated to fuck around further. By, and for, the giant toy store I wander through, innocent Alice-back at first, but furtively tumbling into the darn hole behind the curtain at the back end (of the store). Oh, you know there's no going back from that one.
Expansion? Tell me how. Should I push out a third eye from a mental vagina? Should I stare at myself *astral top shot* and confirm how the world fucking does revolve around me?
Yeah, so...
Take a walk, baby, and just keep nodding, yo.
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