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Date Posted: 08:38:28 12/17/03 Wed
Subject: YOU SHALL
I woke up today. The trees were on fire and tiny flames licked the pleasure centers of my brain. This is what we call mania. And it is not my fault not my fault because I try I do my very best and if it isnít good enough well thatís not my fault either. I am growing. Getting taller and reaching up. But what good is reaching if you canít get to the sky? This is the only way I fly. I have a gift and you donít understand it. I am insane. It is a gift, I tell you and I donít care if you care so much about me and want me to get better because you love me. Well I love you too but ďnever love something so much that you canít watch it die.Ē As we have been taught, let us pray. Dear coin, dear master of our pathetic little hole in the universe, please make our lives shiny with useless artifacts of our porous brains slimy from rot. Lots of money lots of money give us something to be proud of so that we donít have to be proud of ourselves. Not giving a fuck is the only type of insanity that exists. It has its own ways of showing itself, of painting the gruesome beautiful horrors on its chosen crucified canvas, but it is always the same. The rejection of the omniscient prowess of ladders, getting somewhere in the world. Ladders made of bones, crushed from all the stepping on and over and spit and shoving to get there for a second and then fall. At this I shiver. The clouds too. We out of control out of our hands out of our minds so we shiver together. This making us dance the fear dance. The rain is filled with my saline and we cry and shiver dance together. Water water everywhere and my god how I did shrink. Come darling have a drop of my thin blood and I will show you ways that you have never wanted. But you shall. When we are in the dusky darkness and the draining is done with, like the archaic bleeding done to such maniacs as me. Exhausted from the forgetting of everything for a moment, you will smoke a cigarette and in the curling of this smoke you will see my soul, the thin wispy floating flying uncaring thing that it is. Flying from the bone ladders and the coins and the smeared lipstick you will want to catch on fire like me burn like me and become smoke as well. You shall!
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