The Other I

On being bitch-slapped by six degrees of separation.Everyhere I go I see some of me and most of you. The orgiastic miasma translates into a tenacious conundrum,I escaped unscathed but you I couldn’t save.The faithless battle atheism in similar fashion as I do possiblity.The word is defunct in my scheme of things. Its structure has been debased,its rationale nullified.The only stirrups of support offered,is by the damned conjecture of existential thought.To surmise, for evaluative and eccentric synapses.Maxims et al at my behest. Embowered in the Anime handle,superciliousness of a libertine and a hack’s pschizophrenia  suffers from severe self- reproach when encountered with emotional jolts on the highway to quarantine.LCD detracts, but not enough to let go completely. Carbine-esque instincts. Profiling the Takeshi  Beat(reading,regurgitating)Wide-range of shots from Sonataine ricochet between the left and right cerebral lobes.Gun shots against blank rooms.Blank shots against gunned rooms.The Howling of  Molosch,the penutlimate day of Redemption,the suicidal despair of having shamed previous generations of doers and thinkers.The brain refuses to assess for itself whats kosher and whats not.Since separation comes at an exorbitant price,ends up overdosing on the capacious and conceited temporals of cult essayists,poets and wretched wannabes. In paragons of rationality lurk deviant thoughts of possible testicular enlargements for the future and inexplicable incestous heists from the past.But well-cloaked they remain and I pay daily obeisance to the ilk, if they hadnt successfully whisked away my infancy ,presumptous and comfortable in my skin I would be today,preoccupied by pink triangles or pending nymphomania or maybe both. 

  Ohmigod. Psyches are built,bent,broken, rebuilt and then microprocessed,swiped clean in flagarant attempts to establish heterogeneity of notion and sanity of action.Prodigious children that almost exist in a vaccum, are spread around to calculate the actual circumference of this circular dysfunctional logic. incendiary in carpet slippers..Sartre of Bataille 

I wonder if dissent is dead and if coming-of-age has overstayed its welcome. Of a virile predilection for bleached cuticles and split-tongue boys with whiplash  tails.Mostly the three together.        



~ by iconoplastic on February 9, 2006.

One Response to “The Other I”

  1. I love the newness of this place.:)

    Yahoo messenger crashes my computer regularly…I’m afraid to use it. Get msn or something?

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