this world
made of heroes
made of villains
made of regulars
made of you
made of me
made of chaos
made of structure
bred from purpose
born of reason
among wonder
among mystery
the mundane
among the impossible
the recycled
among creation
into absolute
total
and complete
destruction
and such is life
and so is death
and so is memory
to be forgotten
made to live
then made to die
this is the world
this is our life
enjoy the ride
the end's the same

let go of your hatreds
never look back in anger

forgive all the world, forget all the pains
but remember, every one of their names
and learn,
from every single mistake

to let go of your hatreds
to grow unabashed

without judgment,

into a better person
from what you are today
into a better world
before you leave tomorrow

regardless

to be that
silly fool
quiter failure
loser *****
meek and scared
you don't have to

. . . be that
big fat mistake
that you once made
maybe a dozen times
it doesn't have to
define tomorrow

as today
is not yesterday
and this year
is not last year
as this life
can be almost anything
moving forward

if you try
and just...
show up

for every single day
can be almost anything

they'd all grow up to be lunatic *******
and if i happened to put it there
no women i know is quite dumb enough
not to have that abortion
is why i would never have children

do you care?

what i do
far away
far from you

do you fret?

over these
things I do
things unlike you

do you anger?

over that
which is said
unlike yours

do you sleep?

sounder still
knowing all
must be like you

would you take?

that which makes
me from you
to call me ******

would you condemn?

everything
not endorsed
by a silly book

that you barely knew

beyond. . .
what you wanted to

beyond. . .
what is just, like, you

Sail away with me; come sail away with me; fight with, for, or against me with honor;

'Till Valhalla!

Rocking violently encased in metal on heavy seas, still safe, peacefully so; like some kind of Zen Buddhist ****... (peaceful frustration). The journey might **** us. Though We still get to go. That's what it means to fight, 'till Valhalla!

Our pilot may doubt us but not in our endings; there is no room for doubt come our last day. Come Valhalla!

Crushingly optimistic he's our steam roller baby. He pilots because he has to, because we are finite, Because the premise of our story is that it Begins and Ends no matter who's doing the writing or The Dying or finding or lying or even The Killing. Our course is set;

'Till Valhalla!

Forget the word mistaken at your own peril on the open waters. Mistaken, this is a world full of Peril. Still, it matters for naught at The end, not for us princely warriors. There is a place where all geodesics Collide, where you and I can finally embrace without Malice. For where we would have arrived is Valhalla!  Great hall of the dead, where wars leaves its warriors to dine among gods and forget they were men.

call it, cell division restrictions
with heavy implications
on age limit correlations
　
old and decrepit
one day your fingers will become brittle sticks
wrapped inconsistently in thin wrinkly papers

approaching uselessness

every page gets turned slower
understood less and less often
as everything begins to be forgotten

watch out now
here comes genomic instability
aka the road to an old death
or a cancerous death
or a radiation death
maybe a chemical death
or from sharp metal or heavy stone
perhaps from the claws
or teeth
of another clever beast
(an inaudible noise)
whatever's clever, it's all ******* death
when it starts...

it progresses (pray for quickness)

please dear
have a little neurodegeneration
with that
it won't matter, you'll forget
and **** your pants
eventually
　
maybe she's born with it
maybe it's recombinational DNA repair error
either way we're all on our own way into cyclic deficiencies of repair
that night shift mr. fix it staff
the stupid intern who makes the copies
gets the coffee
eventually, the manager hires his nephew
and outsources the night shift to mental patients
things then start to unravel
as all things fall apart
　
sometimes it's exogeny
other times from within
endogenous like  
anyway,  it's all "whatever"
("it's not a tuma!")
these things that are eventual, tend to be tragic
universally so
the upper limit to individual "forever's"
this could be law
when that which you cannot see stops doing what you cannot believe
you tend to die
and everything has it's time to die
everyone of us becomes due in time
to become one spectacle of a tragedy
or another
like you've never seen before
like you would never believe

until it happens to you...
when you go,
when you hear,
ha... that,
(inaudible sound)

from an age frustrated
comes a vile rage
creeping closer

next to me
next to you

everyday

silently
impulsively
unpredictably

next to sons
next to daughters

lurk these damaged idiots
cowards and failures
living and breathing
     spitefulness

becoming all too capable

of great violence

irrational  

confusing great fame
deranged

with a true legacy
achieved

here now and murderous
boiling in pathetic frustration
a fatal need for attention

bred from a truth
that was never learned
that is. . .
(how to lose)
and come back
          like a man
like a women
                     like a human
worth a something
more than nothing
beyond destruction

beneath the deserved
and the earned
are the entitled
lazy idiotic
faux oppressed
and emo pathetic
faux disabled
and outraged
from a basement
enabled by parents
non confrontational
and oblivious
to a future
full of failure
out of duty
out of love
out of pity

expectation defines meaning
with exception
'hey how are you?' is a greeting
not a question
like fake **** are just illusion
not deception

some lies are not collusion
just confusion
some lies induce delusion
for a reason

the truth and being truthful
are not mutually exclusive
it's the lie not in confusion
that's relationship pollution

anger the vice
carnal and base

lovey dovey the gimmick
obfuscating and ardent

propagation the purpose
of our gardens of eden

and the vice of the gimmick
is normalized mental illness

diamonds and pearls
jealousy and hatred
marriage - divorce
attraction - repulsion

carnal and base

anger and love
hunting and *******
protecting and killing

carnal and base

and all from the same

feeding a hunger
with a purpose

carnal and base

our hallmarks of survival
they are not what they seem

not today
          (it's all roses)
manufactured and clean
     like a dream
                  (like commercial)

condemned to truly be free
to invent your own meaning
to code your own morality
arbitrarily

condemned to be born
too late to explore the world
too soon to explore the stars
just in time to know the difference

condemned to an existence
too temporal to really know
too inquisitive to ever stop
screaming questions at the void

condemned to see
just enough to be awed
just enough to know nothing
absolute about anything

when memory remembers
patterns of survival
in the bush in the wild
it feeds it defends
it leads species to dominance

when memory remembers
moments in specific
all distorted and faulty
in the world in the modern
it leads species to confusion

why memory remembers
is not what we remember
but how we survive
in a world of competition
it leads by what works

all truth is irrelevant
as we logically know it
in the wild in the bush
today is always the gift
tomorrow always the wish

             no matter specifics
    it's all about instincts

so what's a pornhub?
lies every man alive

for shame

and what are we really like?
(in the dark)
hides everything breathing

insecurely

and what do we really want?
(as a question)
always complicates bartering

and *******

so how do i really feel?
and for a dollar i might tell you

why eye contact's endangered
why shame's a commodity
why so many of us humans
        seem so ******* petty
                 so ******* empty

but i don't think i need to
(as you already know)
      . . . about that

my monster times five
once kept me alive
my anger times six
then hit us like a ton of bricks
my self loathing times two
killed all of me in you
my regret times seven
is no ******* heaven
my vanity times eleven
will eventually be my armageddon
my kindness times twelve
always ends upon the shelf
my future times my past
always leaves me aghast
my present times my zero
is like my bone without the marrow
my only thing that's real
is really nothing
nothing really, at all

I dislike I despise
The stuffy minds
And the philistines
Wearing virtue signs
Like dressed figurines
In pop social themes
Or faux thoughts and prayers
Displayed on twitter feeds
For their attention needs
All superficial cares
And sophomoric ideologies
Demanding apologies
Like commodities
And all that that implies
I dislike I despise
Those who dramatize
Moralize and jeopardize
Like a line of merchandize
The free human mind
And all that that implies

Imagination inflation's
Causing severe conflict's
Between Belief's
And factual information's

So, God may not be objectively real
But what really does that matter,
If his effects so objectively are?

As the struggle is real
The benefits tangible
And the proof unattainable

What's the point in this argument?

To believe is not errancy
To disbelieve not heresy
Either way as I see it....
Every single thing that's alive
Remains completely extraordinary

Pride with no empathy
Psychopathic and anti-social
A cynic with no morality
Selfish and remorseless
Intelligent without compassion
Successful without apology
A chameleon of all things manipulative
These are the leadership qualities
Of all upper echelons of societies
They always have been, they always will be
Hidden traits integral
To the fast life type of strategies

The human male is poorly designed
***** only almost constantly
(mostly all of the time)
Willing in that name to act absurdly
Addicted to ejecting ***** as a hobby
And almost always after, feeling guilty
Like some *******-animal filthy
Call it post-*** depression...
Sometimes I’d rather be pregnant
(but not really)

Making that cheddar as a gold member
Of the professionally *** hurt brigade

Group thinking for friends
Virtue signaling for dollars
Forcing tears for the camera

It’s all ******* cancer
And counter-productive

All people aren’t idiots
Outside of your bubble
We see that you’re awful

Parasitic and stupid
Opportunistic and ignorant
Dramatic for fake reasons

It’s time to stop the madness
It’s time to be rational
It's time to stop crying wolf
When it's really just puppies

A relationship to some
Is just a game to another
What the narcissist plays
Is not at all what you think it is

When you question yourself
In all your rational self-doubt

To the narcissist then…
You become an instrument to play on
A song called “never good enough”
Written by 'i am never not better'
Produced by 'grandiose delusions'
Distributed by 'your socratic introspection'

It is almost inhuman
This emotional cancer
Incarnate...

What is a relationship to one
Is just a game to the other

I will ****** them for pennies
Fearless and vicious like
Thank you for the skill set
I will die for you alone
Cheerless and unaccomplished
I will never say a word
            afterwards
Now listless and absurd
I will always lie for you
As long as you pay me
You have my allegiance
(I have no allegiance)
My salute is in vain
             We never fought a war
I still keep our secrets

    that **** was pure slaughter
I remember
What we are
                      But thank you for the skill set
And the scars
                  Now ******* pay me

Without the full deck
      Discourse is weakened
      Fallacy becomes inevitable

Regardless of intention. . .

Compelled speech
Always and eventually
      Breeds tyranny

For when you "should not"
      By Law
Becomes you "cannot"
      Plan the funeral
Free thought is dead

When all my blood is estranged
Is it then that I become deranged?
Already self-loathing and anti-family
So maybe I can’t stand my own genetics                        
Perhaps I see myself as unequivocally cunty
And maybe I cannot stand the things that made me
Is this what makes one deranged?
Self-destructive and anti-happy
When all the blood is estranged
And the world is just animals
To be coldly devoured. . .
This seems to me quite deranged

To sadness and death
The immortals are ignorant
As the price of mortality
In trading heaven for ashes
Could never appeal to them
     And learning the losses
Of temporal relations
And tragic emotions
In the most intimate of ways
      In the flesh of this world
Becoming deranged with heartache
Completely ruined by loss
      No one signs up for that
But it reveals a secret to life
To know everything ends
Gives us this present
These moments in time
How it all becomes precious
Is to know that it ends
And we ain't gonna like it
     What makes the immortals so jealous
Is that they have nothing to lose
No concept of heartache
No knowledge of loss
Without sadness or death
What could they possibly know about life?

At first what did grip me I could not understand
Like everything new
One does not at first know
And as fools do I did stumble
Still, moment to moment
Always constantly
My interest seeds the path of my development
While all stimuli calls me
What I truly am
Abstractly, I will be drawn to
More naturally...
For this fool to become master
I must follow my interest
To develop my path
I must embrace those adventures
With a full heart and a brave mind
But above all else, to myself, always truthfully

I’ll turn you all into nails
If you make me a hammer
Per Law of the Instrument
I will become militant
Repetitive and constant
A Birmingham Screwdriver
Full of confirmation bias
Painting the world a disaster
With only one way to fix her
If you make me a hammer
I'll turn you all into nails

losing all
your will
your everything
until a shell
flat broke
with money
becomes of you
full of angry
frustrated
and raging
confusion
so now here I am
existing without enemy
and what's next...
is nothing special,
day in and day out
alone
empty
in a room
with battle trinkets
and more nothings
describing situations
long past
remembering awful things
in convoluted ways
dreaming of past missions
loves, friends and reasons
coloring in the edges
to make for a more
palatable being
to be remembered
with glee and reverence
in satisfaction...
but for long
it never lasts
and now all's collapsing
on all sides
losing structure
becoming distorted
leading to dilapidation
like an abandoned diorama
left to ruin
left to weather
left to be forgotten
my mother always said...
"memories cannot save themselves"
- grave yards are stupid

Intelligence vs wisdom
Is in the questions you ask people
A monster vs a warrior
Is in the reasons you make enemies
A parent vs a guardian
Is in how you treat your children
Virtue vs vanity
Is in how you pick your battles
A man vs a boy
Is in how you treat your losses
Arrogance vs humility
Is a thing I keep forgetting

Forth and back so on and so forth

Madness masking more madness

When a narcissist cries. . .
Big, fat, salty
Crocodile tears of self love

For you to appreciate their

              Sensitivity

So insightful through the most insidious of manipulations
Unaware, blissfully, so blissfully you stay unaware
In some emotional waiting room

Preparing for an appointment
That was never made

Not for you anyway

You're just the vessel
My ride to the store

Paradoxically
To the narcopath. . .

Self love is
Self loathing
Self loathing's
Self love

Those who crave pity
Must first devour all of their own

Then starve at too young an age
From loving themselves
Much too much
Behind a shattered enough stage

A mess at the start
Even cats need learn their own claws

Professional confidence from something
Re-sewn, sutured, glued, reassembled

From pure disaster into smooth alabaster
Sharp at the edges, dangerous
This insightful love of the narcopath

Fierce now unbroken
Statuesque
Whole and all powerful

Distorted fully to experience zero reality
Floating among humans
In irrelevant situations

A deep love shared for the glory
Of one

With the strength
Of one thousand suns

Be careful

Those little emo black holes, ha,
They'll swallow your *** whole

I’m not a bit whiny!
She’s just a big bully.
So let’s ruin her career!
Fill her heart up with fear!
Ha... Now who’s the bully?
*****!
Oh, ****

A bright chap and not very awkward
He felt he owed a debt just for being
He seemed to keep to himself
In fear of harsh judgments
In fear of exposure
Of all his self-evident inadequacies
Fragilities and vulnerabilities
Of being humiliated by a social world. . .
It ranked higher than death
In things that he feared

a place without meaning
across infinite distances
pre-resolved space-times
across infinite variables
dissolved agents of chaos
among laws of pure order
the expansion-contraction
in equilibrium beyond us
where infinity and zero
always and eventually
mean the same thing exactly
always and eventually
a place without meaning
everything and nothing
always and eventually