Existentialist Dogma Applied To Anarcho-Syndiclist Ideology, And Such Rot
Boredom persists in retaining the meager existence it meters out by hampering my personal efforts to derive some modicum of enjoyment from continued existence, so I have, in my infinite capacity for sadism and visceral entropy (which has absolutely no connection to anything, ever), opted to spend more of the ever-lengthening minutes composing the whisky-sifted "thoughts" of mine into sordid text which the 0.0135 readers of this inanity can mutilate themselves for ever making the inept and suicidal choice of plunging into. That was one long fucking sentence.
Now, the only issue preventing such a deluge of nearly random forays into bleak and abrasive self-pity is the utter lack of any subject matter which merits the effort of typing, then reading my own dementia in order to correct the 1272397 typographical errors I will assuredly make in any sample of prose exceeding twelve figures in length. Just above, I typed "make" as "amke" and had to repair the mistake. And "had" was initially "ahd", as well.
As such, I am simply going to write out a song lyric of mine. It wastes time, is a cheap form of copyright, and fuck you.
Every Day
Every day we awake to see a tragic repetition of history
Every day we shuffle out, following a rubric already lain out
Every day's the same as the last, mimicking errors from times past
Every day's a travesty illuminating our racial idiocy
Each day's an example of how we shouldn't live
We're just casualties in the war against time
Nothing seems to matter in this too-syntactic world
And every day's a copy of the one that's just gone by
Every day holds the same stories, misnomers and duplicities
Every day yields another war, an all-consuming battle that we've waged before
Every day we trudge along, waiting for change or the end to come
Every day we further decline from our addiction to vulgar design
Every day we submit to the laws and codes serving no use
Every day we villify those finding another way to survive
Every day's a lesson in the futility of trying to live
Every day's a waste of time, a decay of body, an erosion of mind
Wasn't that special... and I'm several moments closer to the climax of this blip of life because of it! How tragic, really. Hell.
Now, the only issue preventing such a deluge of nearly random forays into bleak and abrasive self-pity is the utter lack of any subject matter which merits the effort of typing, then reading my own dementia in order to correct the 1272397 typographical errors I will assuredly make in any sample of prose exceeding twelve figures in length. Just above, I typed "make" as "amke" and had to repair the mistake. And "had" was initially "ahd", as well.
As such, I am simply going to write out a song lyric of mine. It wastes time, is a cheap form of copyright, and fuck you.
Every Day
Every day we awake to see a tragic repetition of history
Every day we shuffle out, following a rubric already lain out
Every day's the same as the last, mimicking errors from times past
Every day's a travesty illuminating our racial idiocy
Each day's an example of how we shouldn't live
We're just casualties in the war against time
Nothing seems to matter in this too-syntactic world
And every day's a copy of the one that's just gone by
Every day holds the same stories, misnomers and duplicities
Every day yields another war, an all-consuming battle that we've waged before
Every day we trudge along, waiting for change or the end to come
Every day we further decline from our addiction to vulgar design
Every day we submit to the laws and codes serving no use
Every day we villify those finding another way to survive
Every day's a lesson in the futility of trying to live
Every day's a waste of time, a decay of body, an erosion of mind
Wasn't that special... and I'm several moments closer to the climax of this blip of life because of it! How tragic, really. Hell.