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An unethical practice to fully comprehend my existence in space and time, I took the world hostage and prodded its inhabitants with probes and electrodes only to find myself conducting self-lobotomies in front of the bathroom mirror; Gazing through the eyes of McCrae, I ****** my hands into pristine soil, tore up roots and soldier bones, creating a garden of chaos only to find myself amongst red petals and marrow strewn across green vision fields, but the larks still bravely singing fly! I splattered ******* across impressions of Monet and Renoir only to find myself dripping like Dali, screaming like Munch, is this what beauty looks like?! I passed up a hitch on a Heart of Gold only to find myself in the mire of a Brave New World, kicking at the dirt that sent electroconvulsive shocks up my spine, is that a headlight reflection in my Bell Jar?! I looked down the barrel of my fingertip guns, still smoking and listened to the hollow wind of my self-inflicted universal entropy... run. Through a wormhole, into the forest of wisdom where I reviewed observational data of my chaotic string theories, there I found myself, rejecting the null and assembling a fire of new Hope using the burrs and thistles burrowed under my skin, scratching and clawing at unethical practice.
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Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
A Frantic Search for Meaning: Logotherapy with Viktor Frankl
An unethical practice to fully comprehend my existence in space and time, I took the world hostage and prodded its inhabitants with probes and electrodes only to find myself conducting self-lobotomies in front of the bathroom mirror; Gazing through the eyes of McCrae, I ****** my hands into pristine soil, tore up roots and soldier bones, creating a garden of chaos only to find myself amongst red petals and marrow strewn across green vision fields, but the larks still bravely singing fly! I splattered ******* across impressions of Monet and Renoir only to find myself dripping like Dali, screaming like Munch, is this what beauty looks like?! I passed up a hitch on a Heart of Gold only to find myself in the mire of a Brave New World, kicking at the dirt that sent electroconvulsive shocks up my spine, is that a headlight reflection in my Bell Jar?! I looked down the barrel of my fingertip guns, still smoking and listened to the hollow wind of my self-inflicted universal entropy... run. Through a wormhole, into the forest of wisdom where I reviewed observational data of my chaotic string theories, there I found myself, rejecting the null and assembling a fire of new Hope using the burrs and thistles burrowed under my skin, scratching and clawing at unethical practice.
...and this is how I saw it,                                                                                           and this is what I sang...                                         http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ih4bm-91Wq4
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Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
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