This is the End

from geo - Sunday, March 27, 2005
accessed 1129 times

The creature myself, the great god the slave and the robot. Happy
unaware
and seeking death. Following the scent of genitals the sight of twisted
faces, the dripping wet and blood. Moaning in the night, scraping our
names in the peeling paint of solid walls so they will always remember
and
dancing always dancing when they play our song. Wasting away, decaying
wet
globs of paper rotting on wire figures hopeless in our entropy.

Master of the universe I created to rule my mind and sleep. To sleep
and
even dream but dream of monsters from that abyss in your head, they
made
you look too long and now it is you and you can never look away.

Do it, because you can never not do it, and that's what they tell you.
So
the program is broken but you are well. Too happy to cut yourself in
small
pieces and feed the mouths barely above water trying to breathe the
smoke
you like to breathe and force them to like it too.

And then there's everybody else. You can talk to them but don't look at
them, at least not at their eyes, that's the hardest part. Eyeing them
while they screech language at you through their swollen lips and their
shiny teeth waiting to fuck your mind like they fuck your body, so you
can
pretend to like them, so you can pretend to love them,so you can
pretend
for the rest of your fucking life because you'll never be one of them,
because you'll never love one of them, because they will never love one
of
you, because no one loves you, because everyone is alone.

So it all changes and you can't change, ever, because you made it
yourself
and you can break it but just a little and then wrap it up over and
over,
around, around, so it cant move anymore. No more sharp bones cutting
through your nerves and grinding away at your favorite tissues, you
know
the ones that are soft. You can pinch them until they turn red and cut
them until they turn beautiful, but I can never fix you I've run all
out
of tape and glue and pretty things that hide ugly things that hide
broken
things.

I'm sorry I hurt you but I hurt me more a long time before.

Going forward to that place, whatever, stomping against the ground with
each step, yelling against my own insane illusions and wishing that
blood
would shoot out of my mouth, like fire, covering the world.

Still waiting for the music to fade and the picture to freeze on the
one
face left staring at nothing with empty eyes “so this is the end" I
think
she says in her mind.