Sep 2015
i hate exclusive writing websites, it feels more about eyeing a clock of readers and favourites and keep safes than anything to do with progress; also the stuff that gets the worthwhile attention for a digestive system inquiring about an alt. diet is, in fact: well, some write for waitresses and bartenders, those who like language just as it is... obediently, instruction manual of a narrative, the: "it will never happen to me so i can feel cosy;" but some hate the way language is crafted for reason as mentioned prior: and bypass the waitresses and bartenders for a nitrogen meal with a whiskey sour.
ever play shadow ching chang wollah?
you loose the paper stone and scissors,
and you end up
imagining you're on the long haul
of drugs doing a 12h acid ******,
not the mile high business class
of a 15minute ******* quickie,
you're next to the ****** teenagers
drinking away as the marathon man,
anyway, with this shadow ching chang wolah,
you loose the paper stone and scissors
on the jesse james draw;
what you get is a creepy spider,
a parkinson's flashlight dropped in a ghost
house reminiscent of a heartbeat,
a rabbit, that old classic,
and the laughed at crescendo of a crow
using two hands! messerschmitt the hands do!
or like i end every arguments with my father: father, you're a brilliant exponent of bad faith, brimming-full with negations, but i rather your bad faith than the anti-existentialist cartesian good faith with pascal's twinkle: brimming-full with contradictions due to the coupling of thought to doubt; and i'm old enough to read these old leather chair **** books for a wrinkles' worth of tear, otherwise why would we send these idiots en-route 180º from the sciences and productivity? it's interesting this, the post-cartesian experiment: but it makes people annoying, i deny, therefore i think, makes it great to boil an egg and not think of a better solipsism. but i laugh it off: i could have been a proper drug dealer for psychiatrists, but i ended up being a proper theory synthesiser. but you know that denial breeds no faith as doubt does, well it does, faith-in-itself, which makes the self a keener protagonist, which is not really beneficial to slump and ride two thousand kilometres at four miles per hour.
ever play shadow ching chang wollah?
you loose the paper stone and scissors,
and you end up
imagining you're on the long haul
of drugs doing a 12h acid ******,
not the mile high business class
of a 15minute ******* quickie,
you're next to the ****** teenagers
drinking away as the marathon man,
anyway, with this shadow ching chang wolah,
you loose the paper stone and scissors
on the jesse james draw;
what you get is a creepy spider,
a parkinson's flashlight dropped in a ghost
house reminiscent of a heartbeat,
a rabbit, that old classic,
and the laughed at crescendo of a crow
using two hands! messerschmitt the hands do!
or like i end every arguments with my father: father, you're a brilliant exponent of bad faith, brimming-full with negations, but i rather your bad faith than the anti-existentialist cartesian good faith with pascal's twinkle: brimming-full with contradictions due to the coupling of thought to doubt; and i'm old enough to read these old leather chair **** books for a wrinkles' worth of tear, otherwise why would we send these idiots en-route 180º from the sciences and productivity? it's interesting this, the post-cartesian experiment: but it makes people annoying, i deny, therefore i think, makes it great to boil an egg and not think of a better solipsism. but i laugh it off: i could have been a proper drug dealer for psychiatrists, but i ended up being a proper theory synthesiser. but you know that denial breeds no faith as doubt does, well it does, faith-in-itself, which makes the self a keener protagonist, which is not really beneficial to slump and ride two thousand kilometres at four miles per hour.
