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Slan789 - all messages by user

9/21/2017 3:04:36 PM
critisicm needed please	It’s all done up and goofy So you can justify Wanting a thing universally Abhorrent ( criminal desire). Every sentence is the killing of One’s self, (in Love). You just wanna make impending Slights seem better (less bad) so the marital bed Doesn’t seem like a prison, So bumming off a (**) Buddy isn't heinous. .-And crying, and kicking, And screaming do nothing. Pretty ideas we seem to Form. Yesterdays faggot is Today’s prom queen. There is A sweet and singular form (Collective American Hatred) ( During is rough but after is A breeze). It’s sad songs When you oughta be dour. (Pop when the sun shines?) It’s One’s prerogative in death. It’s garishly tasking to Wake up from vile moods and Sing praise. (But we are machines!) Mortality is mood probably. Disorder Roots in every truth unfortunately. As if Humans know right from wrong. (That’s the fun in rooftops) Life Is options and oblivion is ** all else if not opiates And reality. (Good god, lighter fluid Sans matches sans mothers). We Aren’t taught to be maybe. And all their names are useless As are pleasantries like condoms And pillows. Ruminations from rubenesque Eunuch figures. Depression cures all If you let it. Talking one’s self Out of sleep. (Rife with thank yous). Humans live (Can't know without Godlessness mind you). Then we all Race to die because we're obsessed With next., Which is fine. Grimly we Hold hands and walk on to impress were On brand: Hopelessly into ourselves. But they fall mercilessly. The common Partisan feeds from it calling it: Fruit of loin. (Message being the Beauty never was.) - And at the bottom It’s holy (And Truly) revealed that We know nothing. Then it’s fine again.
pages: 1

9/21/2017 3:04:36 PM

It’s all done up and goofy
So you can justify
Wanting a thing universally
Abhorrent ( criminal desire).
Every sentence is the killing of
One’s self, (in Love).

You just wanna make impending
Slights seem better
(less bad) so the marital bed
Doesn’t seem like a prison,
So bumming off a
(****) Buddy isn't heinous.

.-And crying, and kicking,
And screaming do nothing.
Pretty ideas we seem to
Form. Yesterdays faggot is
Today’s prom queen. There is
A sweet and singular form

(Collective American Hatred)
( During is rough but after is
A breeze). It’s sad songs
When you oughta be dour.
(Pop when the sun shines?) It’s
One’s prerogative in death.

It’s garishly tasking to
Wake up from vile moods and
Sing praise. (But we are machines!)
Mortality is mood probably. Disorder
Roots in every truth unfortunately.
As if Humans know right from wrong.

(That’s the fun in rooftops) Life
Is options and oblivion is
**** all else if not opiates
And reality. (Good god, lighter fluid
Sans matches sans mothers). We
Aren’t taught to be maybe.

And all their names are useless
As are pleasantries like condoms
And pillows. Ruminations from rubenesque
Eunuch figures. Depression cures all
If you let it. Talking one’s self
Out of sleep. (Rife with thank yous).

Humans live (Can't know without
Godlessness mind you). Then we all
Race to die because we're obsessed
With next., Which is fine. Grimly we
Hold hands and walk on to impress were
On brand: Hopelessly into ourselves.

But they fall mercilessly. The common
Partisan feeds from it calling it:
Fruit of loin. (Message being the
Beauty never was.) - And at the bottom
It’s holy (And Truly) revealed that
We know nothing. Then it’s fine again.

pages: 1