Music:crown me king- we all pull at the wishbone of the hydra
a fish in your mother's belly.
i spend countless coins (twenty-five cents a dream) on jugheaded thoughts, pouring out of this stoppard head. wandering around the streets of brooklyn, lost (though simply walking from home to grand army plaza & vice versa) amidst nanite infections, soot-coloured robotic macromolocules spreading the last chance of post-humanism across those worthy & lacking. all these ill wishes tugged out of me on black yarn, with black yawns & god-fucking damn it, i'm so tired. tommorow i'm 26 plus 65 million some years & i don't know nothing more than i did the night it all started. forget vengence, forget making it better. we'll topple the regime of heaven for no better reason than arjuna had for killing his family. i've got no better agenda than the destruction of the world & the slaughter of god. you know, the same old theme run ragged these past 26 plus 65 million years. boring repetition, a knife ground over a whet stone again & again. sharper & ever sharper, kept within me, within the soft sheath of my flesh. my secret mission.