(no subject)
Every day, every moment, a tick on the bomb, an awaiting explosion that isn't allowed. One that may never be allowed. For in the hallow depths of perception one can only find the empty. The deep bowls of loneliness. With a deep need for aprocriation without the means. My spine begs for the dagger that will sever all signal to the brain and body that keeps it alive. For the heart to stop beating and the soul stop feeling. To enter something besides an ongoing void of a real life. The virtual existance of perpetual stupidity. FOr the uncanny ability to oneself in their own back and the inability to remove it, there is no shangri-la. There is the void in the depths of hell that almost seams a more pallatable existance. Death might seam like the mercy strike that we beg for, but in reality it will just repeat until the end of time. For most there can be a end, a light at that pervebial tunnel. But for the lost souls send with a burden that is our damnnation till time ends, there can be no forgiveness. Not for me.