#nietzsche
They quoted his words
until the meaning bled dry,
neat ink circles
around madness they never met.
I walked where his echo began—
in the split between love and loathing,
in the moment knowledge
turned to noise.
They call it philosophy.
I call it the night
when silence refused to obey.
I didn’t study his scream;
I answered it.
I tore the calm in half
and found my own name
written in the noise.
Now they ask what I learned.
Nothing they’d grade.
Only that pain,
when spoken truthfully,
becomes prayer.
Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025 at 1:07 PM UTC
More proof the organs of the body are limiters rather than perceivers:
Dementia onset grandma sees all time at once unfold to her
in the hospital
I am her grandson, son, father, and brother in scattered fragments
The brother amid a manic schizoid crisis can read
your thoughts and see auras
despite my practiced techniques of staying stonefaced and neutral
Eternal Recurrence
Is this where you want to be when YOU come back?
Numbing our faculties with drink and smoke to
forget the faults of our individuality
Unconsciously strive for death
the hallowed and forbidden no man's land of
some universal hum
Forgive all your past
because we're all faulty radios seeking to
receive that same AM static
They used to say to be like the ocean
who can take in polluted rivers, but not be polluted itself
Now the ocean's dying
We achieved an unthinkable number of polluted rivers
It's high time us kind folk dry themselves off and
stop the apocalyptic Millerites from killing us all
prematurely
We need to convince ourselves we're blameless to
grow a backbone and point a collective finger at
the selfish flimflammers we've let rule us so long
Jul 21, 2025
Jul 21, 2025 at 11:46 PM UTC
The nostalgia trap we're in is condensing
all the freedom and choice they'd give us consumers
as they squeeze more profit and
cover for risky revolutionary rumblings
Do we forget the time saving value?
Less commercials, 30 second shorts,
having access to so much at once
We want to say we weren't prepared but
perhaps that's to cover for freedom and individuality
we didn't want
We like freedom to leave your house, to chase
grand destinations, and define ourselves by contemplating
all the people
I am them
this is where I am
Out here we're not apparitions going up and down the stairs
or flat shadows on our picture screens
We had to buy the DVDs
and pay for CDs and magazines
How much of our tastes back then were the result of
avoiding buyer's remorse?
Celebrities don't need to say who they're voting for
but hopefully they embody ideals that move society forward
or at least away from life denying tendencies, restricting freedom
both negative and positive liberty
Alms for freedom at every level
A still well-to-do poor
You sadomasochist fascists just want your big daddy
to punish your brothers and sisters even more than you
and he even lets you watch
Jul 17, 2025
Jul 17, 2025 at 9:17 AM UTC
Standing on the mountain, looking towards the sea
Knowing they’ll both be here long after me
How long have I been here, how long will I stay
Is the time that’s left more than the time that’s passed away?
When I was young, I felt that I’d been here before
It all seems familiar, but I couldn’t say for sure
I don’t know if I’m lost, or I’m just getting one more glance
Or could it just be that God is giving me one more chance
Why we’re here is an idea that nobody is meant to know
The only fact we have is that one day we’ll have to go
Tomorrow is something that one day I won’t get to see
And my Yesterdays will be the only definition there is of me
I’m an old soul, but my body still feels young
My mind has heard the song, but the song I’ve never sung
Time knows all of the things that are still meant to be
Am sometimes I wonder, did Time forget about me?
Aug 9, 2024
Aug 9, 2024 at 11:21 PM UTC
I sense loss and yearning all around
I used to chalk it up as a personal hurdle to jump
or just the feeling of aging while the youth still goes on
Yet I think I this malaise is widespread
Impacting all of us in our glitching global trade
I used to think the issue was there’s just too much now
Too much to watch, listen, and taste
You don’t need the hunt anymore
Don’t need to wait or pay some exorbitant price
I used to feel overstimulated by the streams
and just could not decide
I still feel, it’s not that we want to do the thing,
but we yearn to want to want to do the thing
again
Is that all that’s changed?
Those who are not ready to be creators
will certainly not be ready to be curators
Freed ourselves from DJs and TV programming
but what control have we flailed ourselves into?
Wasting hours a day watching 30 second videos
whose categories are heavily curated
impersonally, just for you
Remember when user preferences worked
and in searches they wouldn’t hide the whole list
of all that was relevant and new?
Jan 29, 2024
Jan 29, 2024 at 5:21 PM UTC
I’m shirtless after
getting too hot in the best kitchen stool spot
It’s where the dog will leave me alone for a sec
It’s a weird winter
every year now, but they say the Great Lakes are
the best place to ride climate change out
It’s been too cold, now it’s getting too hot for this time of year
so the old Watkins Glen hoodie was too much
I almost ripped the front neck like an 80s girl
but I didn’t have the strength
If walks are still out of the question,
I better start doing physical comedy
around the house like Three's Company because
I said I was going to
We could have had it all
we still could
We reached peak performance
we almost reached Star Trek replicators
The whole world enjoying life saving advancements
over a hundred years
Only for it to decline for the first time
instead of just sabotaged into a slowdown like before
Those billionaires want to stay relevant
Even though they’re beyond useless
They’re a detriment to our democratic progress
just to preserve their status as economic royalists
who decry the decline of Victorian social deference
Remember Kurt Vonnegut talking about his school
in the era of almost proficient public funding?
He was excited to have a jazz band
Until these types of things were deemed unimportant
for those who may need them most
Now we have the technology to exceed the speed and competence
of the 80s, 90s, and aughts
but the the profit motive just gets stronger and more depersonalized
We’ll teach them to fish by killing them all
Jan 23, 2024
Jan 23, 2024 at 7:23 PM UTC
here i, walk blind in
unseen sights,
aspired by my will,
to catch the shot in the dark
not dark as in morbid but,
dark as in unknown, unseen
for only, it could be
foreshadowed by some
i will be viewing the past
through the lessons
it has taught while i
keep on..writing,
painting every vivid dream
i have for my brain is
translucent, once i enter
the realm of softness
and dancing moon spirits.
Jun 19, 2022
Jun 19, 2022 at 6:28 AM UTC
Passing through mid-century
these jazz oneironauts reached Apollonian heights
while society drifted into Dionysian drunkenness
the merchants caught on too soon
The most beautiful parts of humanity
enamored to serve the ugliest:
The merchant class, the bourgeoisie
Buddha’s undeserving in charge
If only in past centuries
those noble princesses embraced
even more lowly patronages
all this potential today could be staved off
Saved from the drive to be commodified
People stopped buying jazz as it reached its height
No more smiles to appease the whites
Jazz for the few
the noble, the individual in the know
Until this too becomes the simulacrum
The Ornette Coleman on the bookshelf
to signify your snootiness
your refinement from wealth
Aging Dads in thousand dollar sweaters
kicking out their 22 year old kids
for being ****** addled hipsters
meanwhile Bird on Verve is nodding out
and Dad’s girlfriend pops a Percocet
to deal with all the stress
Jan 15, 2022
Jan 15, 2022 at 10:50 AM UTC
And you could have given us this and that
but you were in the throes of some spaz attack
Spiral down
your spires of blame
and you end up forgetting all the innocent
in their small existence
Influenced by their helixes
and culture, the temperature
and more than we can comprehend
Forgive yourself first and
you'll stop being such a ******** to all the rest
The malaise of the mayonnaise
Lives of all these unwitting folks
Jan 15, 2022
Jan 15, 2022 at 10:37 AM UTC
Learn to write again
learn to type right
first time in 3 decades of life
I want to write closer to when I think
speed time, to slow it
make it feel like I do more
like I was in my teens or early twenties
**** these days 3 go by and it feels like one
I count my blessings to build confidence
Life grows more cruel but
I might win if I act like already won
Chaos magick, nay we do not speak of it
You forgot to pretend
to suspend quests for rationality
No longer moved by a book or film
We conditioned to be unconditioned
only to realize we ought to been wistfully in the herd
the whole time
We're the Bodhisattvas forestalling enlightenment
to get drunk with the butchers
after decades of sober high ground
We're the over-analyzers
lamenting our anachronisms in self-assuring
new philosophies
Either fully embrace one or drop out of being smart at all
the only tolerable choice to start to enjoy life again
No, no it's a false dichotomy
I want to be the eternal well-wisher
no matter the decadent displays
The shared dream of a soon to be future
We scavenge and defend
through pockmarked streets
make shelters amid crumbling concrete
We forgot how to imagine a secure society
Measured expectations and social safety nets
they took it all away along with our balanced serotonin
I used to get all jazzed up over a library book
but now the images promise us much more bliss
right around the corner
But it never soothes
never comes close
We cannot buy the contentment you claimed to offer
so we'll get it in collapse
We'll be sniped, starved, and deranged
but the thought of that life
makes us whisper excitedly to ourselves
"finally something has happened to me."
I, the eternal well-wisher
will wag no more fingers at preachers of death
Neither will I become them nor pity them
Nov 1, 2021
Nov 1, 2021 at 10:01 PM UTC
The hadron collider showed an unknown influence affecting subatomic particles.
“Is this proof of a higher power in the universe?” asked Marianne Williamson.
“Is this Will, is this magick?”
Yes Herr Nietzche, there will always be unknowns in human science as the scientists should have known all along, instead of substituting the most recent names of observations as the replacement of God.
No, there probably isn’t free will but we seem to be life in the unknown with more power than any other around.
This universe may just repeat on and on but what do you do with that knowledge? Can you even help to choose what you choose?
All these past influences and instinctual impulses lead the charge. But there's that spark. That mystery if we can ever really know and comprehend it all with limited senses, time, and minds.
Maybe you don’t have a choice in your life, but you can have the feeling you do. The feeling you can shape your world amid the destiny you feel in your heart.
Practice being a yeasayer to life because that just might be your fate.
Amor fati each time around.
Nov 1, 2021
Nov 1, 2021 at 9:10 PM UTC
The boy-king wanted to incinerate
A fell and meretricious thryrus.
His grandfather would venerate
The same staff, terrified of curses.
His mother’d slandered the drunk god,
But regretting feckless blasphemy
She counseled them to spare the rod,
Until they heard the divine decree.
Once the summoned prophet had appeared,
Blind, and clad in a frayed, goatskin cloak,
The monarch sputtered “It’s cursed, weird,
And wrong, burn it down to ash and smoke!”
The former monarch begged, “Appease
Bromius with primeval rite,
A lord who smites his enemies
A lord too terrible to fight.”
The daughter next, “His worshipers
Run mad, and slaughter their own kin,
Even children. The god massacres
Those who dispute his origin”
The prophet lifted up the staff
And tore the ivy from its tip.
“Rites, massacres, don’t make me laugh,
And immolation’s sponsorship.”
He swung the staff to test its heft,
And said, “I need a walking stick,
The drunkard has no bacchics left,
****** the goatish lunatic.”
At this, the grandfather turned pale,
And the repentant mother winced.
Matched severity cannot avail
If fear and butchery convinced.
A proverb soothes the quondam king
And the dowager, “He frightens you,
But moderation in each thing,
And that in moderation too.”
Nov 1, 2021
Nov 1, 2021 at 3:33 PM UTC
The birds the bees the trees, to the streams the rivers ocean or the seas,
They dont threaten me, I listen to them talk rapidly and also wildly,
They despise the wickedness of humanity, because every thing is money,
Money and more money, the taste of a golden nugget, you can't even get with,
Dipping sauce, look at the humans, running around forever loss,
Claiming they love God, and his creatures, but dont even love themselves,
Can't even eat right, over doped and slipping through the ropes, of fragile hope,
But I ignore the peasant, sounds of vehicle horns, people bustling and hustling,
To get to a place, of nowhere nowhere,
And once they get there, theyll just stare,
Like looking down into a dark alley, and drawing the deepest pessimism,
But it's only what is driven, that becomes lively, this doesn't require an Ivy, league
Diagnosis no, it requires your eyes your soul, and grazing thru the unseen peephole,
I've been to that side, where lots of people, would dare to hide,
The visions, of Rod Serling, truth is a menace and logic is a bully, but here me,
Out this isn't a rant about, anything of normality, I'm just showing you the brutality,
Of humanity, that we dont quite see or study, in that fact, see we are passioned by pain,
And prisoners to the most vane, acts upon mankind since we've crawled out the slime,
There are no exits and no there is no entry, there's only here, and here we only have this one life,
To cherish, to make the most impact out of, people who we dont know, we've impacted,
Funny how, when you're dead, they all come around bearing you the finest gifts,
comforts of love, joy and passion,
To saying delightful, things about you,
But only when you're alive, they seem nowhere to be found, no gifts no love no joy to trace around,
I find it very interesting, as I dig deeper into the abyss, of my mind, that we are tasted,
By the flavors of death, it's a like a scent we can't ignore, to the very core,
They may take this as ******* but it's nearly the first stage of wisdom,
Observance, and what I see is a failing society, when the bees disappear so will humanity, said by the great Einstein,
Einstein was considered a slow, crazy, low level human during his times,
Now a few decades later he's deemed a genius, an unsung hero, quite like Mr Tesla,
And many others just, too many too name, then they are enriched with the spiritual tag,
God compelled in you, as if it's a precious medal pinned by some war hungry General,
For fulfilling death, to other countries and the same country you serve in,
Will throw you behind bars in, if you spread blood shed on theirs, funny isn't it,
I've had many dangerous dreams, some vivid some violent some I can't even think to remember,
But all in all they couldn't hurt me,
Because my soul was too strong, the light couldn't be dimmed, or trimmed
By the perpetual darkness, that loves to lurk like a great serpent, awaiting its meal, and strikes its prey, as in pray..
So take a quick gander, through uncomfortable scopic, and you'll see a slight, reality check of a Philospic,
Aug 14, 2021
Aug 14, 2021 at 10:54 PM UTC
Nietzsche postulated His death.
tRump proved it.
But gods are known to resurrect.
Apr 30, 2021
Apr 30, 2021 at 1:48 PM UTC
i'll raise an electric fence around
the gods up there
in mountains and ivory towers
and they'll all wear shock collars
too
i'll spread peanut butter on bread
and send it to them through
the mail
i'll write them letters from the
lower world saying that 'time
really isn't a bother anymore
because apples rot in home
baked pies down here'
i'll reach through my own
tainted build up of corrosive
discharge and pull a petal
from the flower of life
to eat in front of
them with a coffee toothed smile
i'll throw weeds over
palisades into
groomed gardens
i'll **** on the flaming sword
spinning like i do
outside
heavenly gates
i'll put AA batteries on
my ******* and force
feed the north star
until it bursts
i'll stain the glass in windows
extolling failures and shining
blunders under vaulted
ceilings
i'll be nothing less than
the imperfect son of
an imperfect man and
an imperfect
woman--
human
all too human
after all
Mar 5, 2021
Mar 5, 2021 at 10:46 AM UTC
I spent twenty-three years
gathering my army of One.
So, on the eve of the dawn
when all inner-demons are born
and forlorn dreams all bleed at the seams,
the whip-snip of winters wind
will decimate the gold in the day
to proclaim the heir to my king...
and the sacrifice I must pay
for the essential exchange
of any ail-led aspirant
to annihilate any alinement
with the archetype of a tyrant?;
All unearned falsehood must never depart
from any sacred facade held in my heart
lest the lust for Pura Vida be the preacher
to my inner-creatures beseecher,
for adversity is the shunned sage
to those who prefer comfortable fables
and a prophet to those
who harken to heroes.
Thus,
it matters not
any amount of pain that you gained
from playing the truest game
you could play,
with whole heart,
in the wretched world of man,
when now all that remains
are the paint strips flaking away
from the walls in your room
with old age greeting the faith
concealed in your doom
nor, if the portrait of your greatest fate
has forsaken its grace
for the sake of that gorgeous
echoing bellow
heard within the hole in your soul,
for it’s the price all must pay
in the pursuit of being whole.
Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 11:10 AM UTC
Temptation unravels like a flower abdicating her bulb
For to fair maidens, my life I’ve sold
Hold me and dawn your lips upon mine
And let you and me sail through Paris, down the river of her Seine
Warmth I know not, yet nathless I seek Apollo’s chariot mare
And to hunt ‘til dusk at us she stares
Lay here under the veil of twilight
Under the twilight, ‘til the sun lays forth her light, nay any brightness
Follow me down the Rhine, right, follow not to the river of Styx
Rise with me amongst Alps, like Frederick
When I call, will you find us a niche?
Or tell me Atlas has fell, and your thoughts have shattered to pieces?
Endeavor to find my ailing pen and fly to me on winged shoes
I juggle your court, the fastest fool
Woman, I thought you my medicine
But the turmoil you pave, leaves me a reluctant libertine
Here am I, waging a war wherein I will dutifully fail
But for thee, Cupid’s arrow I’d impale
Then in my failure I find discord
Oh how my war ails her, bind me in brass under the lunar cold
How could you forgive me? Wearied, hands I forged flames and scarred your heart
And left you hideously distraught
Should you, I’d build you a throne d’or
And father for us four children, each as innocent as a fleur
Cast me out like the dawn, for in my heart, the wind blows full of sand
Deep in there, your Trojan horse still stands
Down in the earth you will find my soul
You brought your wars-men to lay waste what could have been wonderful
Proud, are you?, for waving the air under my wings upon which I
Climbed to the Sun, in euphoric high
Now to the maze where I still devise
To face your wrath and wrestle your beasts to ensure our love survives
Tis a hopeless cause, I walk like the air on a stale summer day
And I’m dreaming of your sharp green eyes
And I remember your skin like silk
Woven by the Fates; “us,” I thought we were to be bred of the same ilk
Resign to Versailles and sit beneath the Sun King, his brightly “or”
Run to the valley, you did before
And in there find your poisoned lily
Your fallen stars unveil your sympathies; marked by your fleur-de-lis
Stand like a pillar of salt, lick your wounds, and try to quench your thirst
You were born with two snakes in your fists
And you fend off all men; lonesome blues
You deny yourself passion and love, but dress as if he seeks you
I drowned myself beneath a circle of stars, searching for answers
And came upon a ballet dancer
I asked her, “don’t dance in paraphrase”
“Let me see you at réveille, and peer on your inward gaze.”
Show yourself to me, self proclaimed Queen of many-a-mans envy
Your masquerade ***** hide your beauty
You speak endless lies, but show not a man
When you stay behind your dramatic masks, you’ll never know friends again
Throw out your doctrines that bind your immeasurable concerns
Turn off the things you think you have learned
And decide with your mind and your heart
Seek Saturn to announce your mysteries, now then, think like Descartes
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 2:53 PM UTC
When all is lost and all is dreary,
When fate is gone and you must go on,
When you go on without a light,
When you fight through the worst of night,
Du bist der übermensch.
When you beat the hopelessness and decay,
Du bist der übermensch.
When you fight a world meaningless,
Du bist der übermensch.
When you create meaning from naught,
Du bist der übermensch
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 11:20 AM UTC
Done with thinking because that's for god to do
I am just this appendage of a greater consciousness
Ahab is blameless
in his small existence
Don't quote me
quote Herman and Freddy Nietzsche
They and their hermits
coming down from the mountains
to declare they ought to have
loved their fate all along
Amor fati
Why couldn't we have been stuck in the herd all along
guys who get love and happiness effortless
no need to spend their life in anguish
searching through tomes
found in tombs for eons and eons
enhancing their social aloofness
and their unremembered trauma
'till those sad souls give those pansies confidence
to leave an exegesis of their own
Too smart kid
that decried Christ and
the shadows of a god all around
only to find the search for truth was hopeless
Find a way to dumbly enjoy life again
and you only say again cause
that's all we can control
our memories
and we too often forget
our thought habits
the pre-neolithic mind tricks
on ourselves
Too many MLMs profiting off false mindfulness
missing the point beyond exercise
and short stress relief
Change your thought patterns to love your destiny
That's the best we have
to pretend to have control in this ̶h̶e̶l̶l̶ hole
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 8:49 AM UTC
The pen of the past write the future in the present
People pretend and never learn their lessons.
And they fight their ego, but it always prevails
God's existence doesn't make sense,
Life's not fair
I guess Nietzsche was right ,
God is dead.
The pen of the past write the future in the present
What i am trying to say is that your choices will haunt you forever
And make you lose control and forget that you are blessed
Aliens are the new religion and GOD is dead.
As i declare it
I write it and turn to sleep
If GOD is dead, he is living in my head
I say my prayer and fade away
In the dreamworld where the ego always prevails .
Words Of Harfouchism.
Apr 6, 2020
Apr 6, 2020 at 12:07 PM UTC
'Eternal Return'? Why?
If things will keep recurring
why are we exerting so much?
Would I share a gleeful laugh and cry a passionate cry
Knowing the same happiness and sorrows will recur
again?
It took years to reach a summit, toiling and crawling,
A slight imbalance, and again we are hurled to the beginning.
Is, Sisyphus, only a mythical figure? If yes,
then, why I see him in me?
Take a handful of men of bygone days, and contrast with
Our time, drop the embellishments of each century,
And see the emerging pattern, ask them, what are the ways
That helps In curbing the pain, answer;
"Slowly the pain is eased but increased the suffering."
Are pain and suffering different?
When was the last time you loved someone?
Do you remember the days after they were gone? Yes?
Then, why are you in love again?
And most importantly, whom are you in love with?
The person or the suffering they bring?
If Everything recurs 'ad Infinitum',
Then can we avert the things already occurred
In past, from occurring again?
Or we have lost the aptitude for resemblances?
Invention demands an offering of natural ability,
Have we gained half of we lost?
What is the tipping point for this offering, this trade?
It's good I do not have to worry much,
For me, the world ends the day I die.
Mar 22, 2020
Mar 22, 2020 at 11:53 AM UTC
I read his books, to cry at night,
If God is dead then show me the light,
Where is the man on the cross, where is the shining knight ?
... that veiled specter and the streak of light ?
Is nihilism a noose too tight ?
Are we living though our final rites ?
Is this the truth or a noise just too white.
Help me God, but alas he is dead,
We killed him and bathed him blood red,
New century, and many still go unfed,
We still wage wars, are we lacking in staid ?
Amor fati ! but I remain afraid,
Has our senses met with a touch of fade ?
A distant thunder... a storm, a hale, a glade !
Gold, Oil and Drugs - GOD to spell,
... rich to richer, poor to poorer - does it ring a bell ?
Widows cry and mums wail,
Father dies and sons follow in a war to fail,
Cruise and thomahawk don't even tell half the tale,
Our inner selves are shriveled and pale,
Where is our aura ? conscience smells stale.
Markets tumble and the poor man whines,
Leaders make speech, claim things are ''just fine'',
Elephants or donkeys, red or blue - jaded bottle, old wine,
Job dwindle, banks swindle - be it wall street or the south of Tyne,
Or cities on the banks of Rhein,
Long queues, angry mob and a shout of "you swine"
... are we cowards lacking in spine ?
If recurrence is the universes' game,
Are we zombies, or just too lame,
So much we do, in an effort to maim,
What we seek is money, power and fame,
Stare into the mirror, isn't our soul the same ?
... and we all have is an ego to tame,
Love and compassion, that is all to our name.
Good and bad, with evil on right hand,
... overflowing adrenal glands,
Our moral landscape seems bland,
Driven by media which is slave to the rich brand,
It is time we take a stand,
Be the Zarathustra, not make castles in the sand,
... else our children will not find a planet too grande!
Is it the last leg for our kind,
... and smart machines are our next find,
Cometh the superman with wires fitted to his mind,
Man was an error, he is not just deaf, but also blind,
As he lacks in sight be it the fore or the hind,
There is not much to remind,
... his death is dated and signed.
Aug 6, 2019
Aug 6, 2019 at 12:34 PM UTC
I push the revolving glass door
Shuffling almost reverently with it's turn
A pilgrim to the written word, I am entering
The church of human consciousness.
The greatest minds sit here with some
That came in through the back door of
Specialist interest or just plain bizarre.
Alphabetical order belies the years that separate
These authors, some rubbing shoulders with giants
Who have barely been alive long enough to tell
Of real experience, then there are those who have
Stood the test of time, decorating bookshelves
In homes that have never read them, they just
Fulfil their reputation as if by osmosis bringing
An intellectual vibe to the coffee table and
Into the very fabric of the space occupied.
They are all here hiding behind their spines
Luring you with interesting fonts, bright colours
Like jpegs on a contact sheet waiting judgement,
Wanting be taken down and become your big picture
"We have made it, our voices have been heard,
All it takes is imagination to release us within the mind
Your images our words, we can make a movie together."
But I have been spotted, "Whatcha looking at punk
Think you've got what it takes to sit with the likes of us,
Don't go reading me and plagiarizing my well worn
Extensively researched mumbo jumbo clap trap,
So you can call me one of your influences on your CV,
Using my name to make you seem intellectual
Look around, how many do you think didn't make it."
I have gazed too long into the abyss and the abyss
Has gazed back into me, how can I claim to have
Any more to say than the greatest minds on earth
And yet, with pure heart my trembling hand hovers
Over the letters of my qwerty keyboard, pressing
The shift key as if in defiance, identical words,
Just not necessarily with the same meaning.
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 7:36 AM UTC
I don't care much for titles or trophies
I've never been one to reminisce over
past accomplishments
I only want to destroy the spirit of
the man before me
I will only be satisfied with victory
when I feel his grit wither away
When his sense of self is lost
I will have found myself again
Nietzsche is smiling at me from his cave
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 7:21 PM UTC