February 11th, 2004

modern nazgul

the hole his brains dribbled out.

the klaxons of this space fortress keep screaming at me; "wake the fuck up justice league your satellite base has been violated" but what the fuck ever. i'll stroll through these corridors till superman or jon jonz'z or some alien motherfucker comes out to slugfest. fisticuffs is the stock & trade of the metahuman, but meta- or no meta-, i ain't human & neither is these fools. lets talk railgun & deathray, kal. lets talk about your feelings, tell me about your mother, kal. what do you see in this inkblot rendition of an exploding planet, kal?

FUCK FINANCIAL AIDE. motherfuckers arn't open till 11? but at 11 i'll fucking open them up; i'll open them up like a god-damn autopsy ribcage. wide (y'd) Y-ellow yawns. take that, you fucking challanger shuttle motherfuckers. i'll scrape of your face & leave the slough in a compact mirror case. i'll keep it close to my heart like a wiccan keeps placenta. i'll birth you into deformity. lemme att'em, lemme att'em.
  • Current Music
    crown me king feat. pope innocent iv- "the average stain"
closeup samurai

look mom, no hands, said the boy playing with the landmine.

wow, new heights. financial aid managed to fuck up while i was actually sitting there. at least the one girl knew enough to ask about what she was doing (called, literally, "building a skeleton!") & the lady that finally told me a better way to do it? couldn't be fucking bothered. she had to be pestered into telling me how to do it faster & better; thankfully my aide was unwilling to personally invest any work into my account ("building me a skeleton") so she bugged it out of her. the last time i was there, the lady who told me to get my triplicate student aid report? yeah, she was either a) a time traveler from an 1800s era accounting firm, b) a fucking sucky financial aide, or c) meat for the fucking undead cannibal revolution. i'll let you hungry hungry zombies decide. anyhow, now i've got another 3 to 5 to 7 days of waiting to do (depending on who you ask). uh, fuck you everybody, explosion, lights out, exit stage left (in the crowlian sense).
  • Current Music
    cmk- the croak