i still haven't figured out what i'm doing.
really dark and deeply cynical
i’ve made my bed and i’ll lie in it
oddly warm and comfortable
is religion just a bandaid we put over our fears?
i don’t know, man. i haven’t known for a long long time.
and we all kissed
and became the same
winter: strange how this season of Death
is the season of my deepest creativity, sadness and happiness
bathin’ me in music
soakin’ and blowin’ bubbles, gigglin’
here i am standing at the edge
laughing at the very precipice of oblivion
we give man the height of a demigod
and then shout loudly to crucify him
over and over and over and over
and over and over and over
the more we become like God
the more bored we become
the more we just want to create life
the more we cease to care about ceasing
is the universe all chance
or is that satan’s biggest lie?
Rules for Happiness:
something to do,
someone to love,
something to hope for.
— Immanuel Kant
i want an end to tears
and an end to laughter, please;
or maybe i
i want to live and love and hate just yet
I write because I’m afraid to say some things out loud.
— Gordon Atkinson
i’m a man of art and
i’m hardly that; i hardly exist