Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Styx

Born and die, why not? all of you have had not enough of dying for a lie.
Caussation and ceassation, dont you see that your perception inadequate is going to give up on you.
Let me clarify, be your fucking guide. Show you the other side.
Dont, Not just yet, Dont close your eyes.. Has it that the truth has brought upon distaste on that once smirking smile?
You live for a miniscule amount. You oh so full of yourself. On your rapturous nincompoup of a brain. Which cannot fathom what is and what you cannot ever be.
Please, dont stop the praise on this account, go ahead and glorify your body, and your frivolous mind. See that you are smarter prettier better than any around. Go ahead dig your own fucking funeral pyre. I would love to see that. To see how you failed to see something as grand, as big, as possible as life and still go and die.
Take it from me, the path you are living is a fucking life of a maggot. Nothing different or grand. Your play, it revolves around such small parts. such small defiled thoughts. That even with a guide like I, there is no chance, no chance in hell that you could spot the bulls-eye of life.

Arrogance you see in this read, for it is your ego which acts up like never before. again the same doledrum situation of I I I I. where is this I of yours when you are sans body, only dust? Where is this great I when the orgasm is reached with your lover. Cant you see that I is everywhere, in every single part seen and unseen/unknown. The I is constant. It shifts only from I to I. Why pay such huge respect to something as pathethic as this, which fades away with a dimension of time.
Death and only death is reality. Your I crumbles in front of it. You are but your former self with death on the prowl. You can try to change and make your life something which your I would not be a part of. That you could let be. Without this childish crib of I I and more I.

I will be you guide through the lovely styx. The river which leads to hell and ever further down. As the furnace envelops and the stench grows, your rotting head and corpse will be fit to be dealt with. Here Now, this river which quietly burns everything to nothing. I shall take you for a ride. Showing you the scene of your minds, those fucking petty thoughts and actions which you oh-so glorified.
Your life is a sham, the people in it misers. No one a sufi, No one a lover. You havent and will never encounter those who breathe not air, but life. for those people could not stand the sight of your shadow. Much alone that pretty little face burning up high.

" Those of you who die first, atleast I can say that you had an element of luck to be dissolved back into nothing before the world could ever decipher your lack of life"

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