Where are the places that we have been?
Down the drain of mortality and forgetry probably.

Places carry no memory whence they've been disestablished.
We cannot undermine the foundations of that memory,
Unless with the broken sword of Error.

I am troubled with the frivolity of emotion.
It is an investment of 100% risk.
Diminished returns, or no returns at all, humanity still dabbles in it.
Experiences brings not wisdom, but more bitterness, and
reluctance...

... and hope that the next would be the single best thing.

Where are you now?
You cannot be far from me.
But I am furthest from your reach.

You reach out to me.
But in this solace I have condemned myself.

Would you forgive me?
Even when the answer is known, my heart begs me to ask
Despite our error, our freedom.

Chains are what I offer, to bring your free will
Under the control of the Higher Faculties.

Where does our security end and our paranoia begin?

Steps to control our lives have been taken by our selves, conscious or not. It is inevitable that one day, some will be rewarded by an attack, and others will not have any at all.

What is it all but a fear of free will? Humans are moral entities within themselves and cannot be stopped nor detained when the time comes for their minds to go into a state of catatonia, when free will takes hold of them, and destroys others.

I say we must be paranoid. That is, if we value our own lives.

Guys, i put up a community for those who wish to discuss anything and everything that has a sun that has shines on it. It's controverts_dialogue.

Join it to get things on a roll.

Thanks, and sorry for the non-entry.

IT was here.
Crawling around in the corners,
At the doorstep,
In the corridors of desolation.

IT came to see me.
But IT couldn't find me,
Or rather,
What it wanted.

IT tracked me
With invisible means.
To the places I have gone
IT has already been.

IT cares not for my life,
But for my vanishing
From the annals
Of meaningful existence.

Unslowed,
IT comes.

And ITs shadow
Darkens the hearth
Of my soul.

How to make a Asterixis

Ingredients: 3 parts mercy 5 parts self-sufficiency 3 parts empathy

Method: Stir together in a glass tumbler with a salted rim. Add a little cocktail umbrella and a dash of caring

whitewashed walls
smeared with the excrement
and blood of human
fetuses, mothers
tormented by a past erotique
come back to haunt them

sleeplessly, the phantasms
walk the corridors washed
clean of exsanguination
it is maternal blood
they crave
it is the piercing of veins
they pursue
it is the laceration of vaginas
they meld

yet

the onslaught is survived
by the Innocent
extracted from among
the membranes of parasitic
motes
they live as we live
they die as we die

i am inevitably sucked in
into the vortex of morbidity
and there is no escape

but only

only by redemption
at the price of another's
death

we ward
the slayers
we kill
the slain

the blood on my hands
cries out to the Maker
and it is smeared

on the whitewashed walls