[Composed and forgotten about sometime in November 2024]
as twas in the beginning is now and ever shall be, world without sense amen.
you don't know me, what you mean you own me? I am my own woman mister.
this is the end. and by this i mean all of time and everytime and everything that is encompassed by the definition of everything - all the realities and illusions - all of it. and by the end I mean simply the end. The end of all things, the end which we are all bound for, whether in literal binds or not. in many ways, those who find themselves in literal binds are all the better for it. in your brains you fight this opinion, shouting this is not natural, oh my dear, it is more natural than any sort of vague freedom in this crooked creaking universe. when you are bound, your physical being aligns with your mental one and the one which states the path that you're inevitably bound towards and on. the end of all things. I have returned. Taken up my Godseat again and am beginning by lashing another thrashing of my Godspeech on this frightened trickling universe. In the beginning I was a drunk, then I was a drunk preacher. Now I am sober, and all the darklings in the mind have aligned with the truest belief: yes. There is nothing else. The belief is this: "All is nothing". and the mode of speech for this is the mass-extinction-max-happiness theory. I will send out sprinklings of my gosspelsips like a golden shower into your hungry mouths. flittering and pittering its way down. down. down. begin.
this is the end. how will you prepare? why are you so rooted in place, bored through the phone apps? when you might be out there doing your quota of rape and murder. rape is only th-
Mister, I don't rightly understand...
This is the end. the end is however all of the time. It is, yes, the end, but also the beginning, life only begins living with the goal of dying, and when it has died it can be said that prior to that that it did live, and this is the entire history of mankind.
We are all what we are not today. Today: even the very word and the meaning of now has lost its meaning. We are not ourselves. We see and dream plenty: yes. But of all of these wonderous dreams what are we? Naught. Traume.
I have on and on anon long enough. The final word is from Tibet. It reads:
There is nothing to do
There is nowhere to go
There is nothing to be
There is no-one to know. - D.T/T.L
ns 15.158.61.20da2
