A Luta Continua Ii must empty myself of any perceived meaning, knowledge, value or worth... what i am then, what i am now.there is no struggle as thoughthis were a heavy back againsta strong tide.nor is this acquiescence.
the snail. any snail that may carry it's weight carry his burden parallel and along the blade. a drawn blade. a honed edge. along a razor
simple foolishness There are two of us.One that kills and one that loves. Wantonly reckless feckless headless heedless but which you need is...I'd like to know.i'm wont to knowing.i want to know.I can play,and you play back.there is a game afootand a foot's a handand a door's ajarand that jaris glassandit looks none-too fullyou simple fool.
a most perfect world. A world without light,a world without air,in a word, forlorn.A world most perfect.No depthnor breadth in this world.A world with no breath.No grain, so no bread.Suffocated and so poorly designed from the outset,A world most perfect.No denialand wondrously: no beguiling thoughtor deception-steeped deed.From it's conception, a worldmost fundamentally flawed and thus, inherently...A world most perfect.An illiterate world.An illegitimate world.A world so isolated and lost that it ceaselessly and recklessly enjoysit's denied denizens a deferment towards death.An uninhabited vacuumand s
Sta.sh
