I'm being tested by the pains of romantic urges. Of course, what sort of notable romance would it be if not unrequited? It's more than just mere sexual attraction, or else it wouldn't have lasted this long or bothered me this much. Knowing it could never be, I'm too much of a coward to just blurt it out and confused enough to want to confront it.
I'd settle for anything at this point...A hug, a handshake, a whisper in my ear, even just a smile.
Foolish me.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
From a Whisper to a Scream (and yes, I am an Elvis Costello fan)
God is dead and so are you.
I’m not talking about physical death here, though all of you are going to eventually be removed from your pathetic, meaningless existences. No, I am speaking of the death of your minds, and the death of your souls. You all in this room are joining the other dead outside that make up this entire country and most of this world.
There are some of you out there who are not dead, but I don’t know if I would call you living either, it doesn’t matter because soon the dead will absorb you and make you dead as well. You will be dragged down with them and make everything you have tried to fight against realized within yourself…By then it will be too late and you will be dead.
I in no way absolve myself from this fate; I have known for a long time that every grasp and gasp of mine is futile in every single way. The air around us is poison and nothing can protect us from that, not luck, not literature, or science, not God, not Oprah or Tyra Banks, and certainly not your damn iPods. Only the Unholy BOOM or the graceful bullet is mercy and frankly you all don’t deserve mercy for your sins. You all don’t deserve the Mercy Seat. Quite honestly, I would like nothing more than to see you all rot and suffer.
I’m not talking about physical death here, though all of you are going to eventually be removed from your pathetic, meaningless existences. No, I am speaking of the death of your minds, and the death of your souls. You all in this room are joining the other dead outside that make up this entire country and most of this world.
There are some of you out there who are not dead, but I don’t know if I would call you living either, it doesn’t matter because soon the dead will absorb you and make you dead as well. You will be dragged down with them and make everything you have tried to fight against realized within yourself…By then it will be too late and you will be dead.
I in no way absolve myself from this fate; I have known for a long time that every grasp and gasp of mine is futile in every single way. The air around us is poison and nothing can protect us from that, not luck, not literature, or science, not God, not Oprah or Tyra Banks, and certainly not your damn iPods. Only the Unholy BOOM or the graceful bullet is mercy and frankly you all don’t deserve mercy for your sins. You all don’t deserve the Mercy Seat. Quite honestly, I would like nothing more than to see you all rot and suffer.
I've got your attention now.
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