Deceptors

I have nothing to prove to you. You are a weak and powerless leech that I have to cut off my skin. So tired of being here, my leave has been long over due. I can't wait to watch you fail from your overprivileged little life. I am not going to actively tell you how I feel, I am not going to sabotage your life. I am just going to leave, never talk to you again. And watch you fall. It is a shame the day that you discover the ones you love actually despise you. I'm not sympathetic, I was forced to be with you, I didn't choose to be born next to you. Fuck you. No more handouts.

haha

Dom you belligerent drunk you.

Welcome to the FrEaK ShOw

Ladies and gentlemen:

Come one, come all for a truly bizarre spectacle to behold before your sick and feeble eyes, I show you a creature beyond your wildest imaginations. His thoughts would chill you, his spine is empty of any mammalian fluid; his heart, black as ice. Behold the illustrious, yet surprisingly meek spirited, Dom Brazzale!

I will tell you a tale that can shock you, this beast has the capability to repel any female spirit into utter disgust. No matter how much he seems like the dark, sensitive type, he will out and shock you with pure unbridled lack of sentiment. One moment an egotistical, paranoid, jittery insomniac; the other, a smooth talking, cool tongued houndog with a knack for social etiquette. A rebel without a cause, sometimes he will think inside the box because the space outside of it has already been taken.

Clap your meaty palms together for the next fiasco he is about to perform as the almost famous artist clamouring for the attention of the drunken flattery of incoherent party goers. "you will be famous!" They scream. Fame is no fortune when shared with the drunken buffoons and their empty pockets. Ah, woe is me when I realise that at it's essence money is the fame, money is the power. If only my mind could have the capabilities of my greedy, sweaty paws.

Watch closely my captive audience as his gauntly tall presence in the room; disappears. You women don't deserve me, you deserve a more stable, changeable man.

*poof* I am gone!

Heroine Happiness

Happiness is the ultimate drug. As a matter of fact we take drugs just to get to it's precipice. Happiness is the drug that keeps us alive, makes us want to stay alive. So why do we have it? Why do we need to survive? Simple answer; We don't need to have a reason to survive. It exists because we are the product of survivors. Reproduction; the ultimate discovery of life. To live on. Not just to live forever but to start over with a blank slate, even better. There is nothing like discovering the grass has always been green on your side of the fence over and over again.

Evolution is not the reason we are alive but rather the product of being alive. But there is one flaw, and when a species can become self aware it is a fatal one. The flaw is extinction. The flaw of extinction for one species is ultimately the gain of another however. New species rise up, as a human being I realise I am starting to forget this vital life force that is nirvana. I must never forget that the reason I am here is not just for myself, but for another. In societies case many others. But ultimately it comes down to the benefit of the child, we all had our turn in the sun, soon it will be time to share that with another. I have often lost sleep from the idea that life is short, not my life, but life itself. All of the birds, frogs, and insects I see outside will come to an end. The whole precious little marble that is earth will shatter and erode into an intrinsic green and blue sand in the blink of a geologic eye. Even afterwards the sand will be washed away and scattered across the vast ocean of space.

I have always thought (or maybe assumed) that being the technologically advanced beings that we are, it is our duty to prolong this inevitability if not try and stop it. That it was our duty to figure out a way for life to go on. I have always been afraid that our existence could be inhibiting for something else, that everything comes at a cost. And while we are running around on our giant round playground, endless entities are suffering. But there is no way to really know, and at least I should not worry because there is not much I could do about that. Let alone if it is in fact not the opposite and our existence betters the universe. Who knows. But the only way for me to find optimism in this subject is to assume that if life were capable of healing itself, it would. It will evolve some sort of gatekeepers, some sort of great animal will be born that can figure this problem out. Figure out a way for divine, non-stop bliss for as long as we see fit. But for now I am born a man, and maybe we were dealt the hand of death.

Assuming the bizarre anomaly that is life only happens once in the universe, we still cannot go without enjoyment. Enjoy yourself no matter what, if it kills you or not. Because in the end that is all that mattered. If enjoyment is something that has to be maintained, held up, like the duty of atlas. It is not joy. That is another realization I had, if there is a god that has to create the universe, then he also has to maintain it. If there are gods then atlas would be the most noble. The saddest fiction of all time is that the one being that deserves happiness the most is also the one with the greatest responsibility to uphold everyone Else's. Is that why people praise this idol as if they didn't the sky would fall down? A noble hero does not want to see the people he saves suffering to please him. He knew what choice he had to make to save us all. Humanity needs a hero, because nobody wants to be the truly noble hero. A hero that achieves nothing but eternal suffering. Christ suffered for a couple days, Atlas suffers for eternity. Who should I praise? Oh wait, I'm missing the point. . . .

Of course if it makes you sleep at night, praise whomever your heart desires. Of course I am not done yet because I have one More thing I would like to say;

What makes life so special? Without the rocks, the elements, the earth, the sky, everything else that is "non-living" we could not exist. What makes us living? That we have this energy to move around? But so do helium molecules and just about all matter (for that matter.) Because we have choice? But there are so many things we do not have a choice in. Just because a fish in a tank swims to the right or the left doesn't mean it has unlimited freedom. An infinite amount of moves perhaps, like a character in a video game floating in space in the center of the screen the only thing that changes in our lives is the scenery. But what's the difference? That is the real question, and it is the question that birthed life, difference, conflict. We compete, rocks do not. Because we compete we change, but rocks change as well. But rocks don't seem to follow the formula of competition. We change for the winning perfection. Rocks simply follow the path of least Resistance. Life resists to persist, like we are all born with a chip on our shoulder. A score to settle with death.

We live on.

callings

I feel like every person can be talented at numerous things if they try their best. It is what you are compulsively obsessed about that you become greatest at. A well rounded person is not worth remembering, we need labels for the people who stand out.

Useless

I honestly feel like people have to hurt each other to feel complete. Why even bring up the subject of morals if none of us can even come close to possibly having them? I don't fight unless I am provoked, and I seem to be provoked by all of these ignorant, worthless rats all the fucking time. I gave up on humanity a long time ago. Now I can't even talk to some people without feeling the biting sting of their harbored hatred. A simple Fuck you just doesn't suffice. I need to leave this place.

Drunken disparity? Paint a pretty picture.

I think the funniest fact of life we have ever been taught is that most of your feelings will go unnoticed. Another funny fact of life is that generally you can assume that the more attention you get, the more you are going to want. If there was truly a caring person in the world that could heed every silent cry for help, they wouldn't have a life. They would be completely overwhelmed, especially by the drunks. And then even more by the trippers.

Nothing can express the utter fear and disparity of a drug addled sadness. One can cry like they have been emotionally shot by a bullet, draining their being of all that is left. I feel a good hefty empty pain, like hunger, only worse. It fills my head, making my life feel the same. A hollow ornament on the tree of life. It makes me laugh how much the world truly doesn't give a fuck. It is the path of least resistance. If people had to care for everyone there would be no room for self therapy. I laugh at how, no matter what, it is impossible to really throw yourself down for someone without seeming like a fool. A god would be so horribly comforting right now, but I have found that trying to hug him is like trying to hug a pillow, only even more hollow. It is like hugging yourself, if that were possible.

I am a bonafide, genuine freak. I am not a man, not in the least. My desires border on insanity. I am one of those insecure, pansy men. All I want is to hold someone. I mean really hold someone, squeeze them and cry. That to me would be more fulfilling than sex. this of course is not attractive, not in the least. Women don't want another woman, I'm sure they have plenty. Just like I wouldn't want to have another man, to tell me that crying is a shame. Crying is like ejaculation of the eyeballs, and it is less frequent than the other kind. hahaha, you men know this to be 100% fact. It is the ultimate release; the ultimate ode to an ancient, sad, forgotten melody. When I cry, I cry for it all.

I cry for the ultimate disparity for life, the ever approaching death and uncertainty. I cry for every unknown, bypassed suffering of history. I cry for the criers that cried out to nobody. HELP ME! I WANT TO BE WORTH SOMETHING, I WANT TO BE HELD AND TO HOLD ALL THAT IS COMPASSION! I FEEL ALONE! Cries can turn into screams if left unchecked. Screams that thrash and burn in a fiery rage to lick the walls of our prisons and beat our heads upon the bars.

"despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage." The Smashing Pumpkins

There is no true justice in the universe just like there is no truth. We cannot prescribe some sort of ultimate theory as to why were are here in these bodies. It will be different answers for every generation, but the same question. As we have seen life is a bit of a thing that grows, like a tree in a unfathomably large forest. duplicating, building upon itself, making connections. It all flows into this climax, that is, if the story were to be formatted correctly. The book of life is a book I never want to finish, it is too interesting to put down. Only in reality I have someone with a gun to my head telling me I have to. I hope my reading level is below average.

Art is the perfect expression of emotions, and the ultimate person to kill. Art is infinite in endurance, I can pour all of my rage, sadness, fear, and cynicism into it. Attack and brutalise everything about it. Expression within the confines of paper, my greatest emotional attachments blow up like an atomic bomb within the confines of reality. It is a funny fact of life that the more you smother and encase your emotions, the more you feel they have been expressed. I am the most supreme piston in an automobile, firing off all I am worth in the right direction, to guide this horrible celestial fucking motorcycle forward! Now we are getting somewhere, much better than going nowhere wouldn't you say? Potential action means nothing compared to action correct? People can make threats all they want, but the one who strikes first has the last say. The winners make the rules, the winners survive. How can we deny this obvious fact of life? Considering everything will die eventually, what does it matter that your offspring survives? ultimately the losers get the last laugh because they never had to try as hard, the losers actually got to enjoy their lives. Joy is rare, cheap, and above all ephemeral.

Enjoy it like the drug that kills you. I wish I could, but I am on this egotistical quest for glory. Maybe this outlet isn't as attractive as pretty colors, I should move on.

Omnivores with carnivor habits

I think since the day I was born I wondered why I was born a human. I remember crawling around, growling at miscellaneous things. I remember staring at bugs for hours. Once I pretended I was a cold blooded Alligator and would sit in my fridge and lay out in the sun to control my body temperature. My mom would have flipped shit. I read only a small portion of the animorphs series. Somehow when I was little I had a sense that their cheap anthropomorphism was not nearly what it was to be an animal. Cheap thrills never caught my eye then, and they still don't now. But what does that make me? Someone with good taste? What does good taste mean when there is little to eat. The Animals take what they can, Animals are too dignified to be dignified. I am a bored human being.

It seems that the greatest hunger to be satisfied for any human being is to be entertained. Be it with some meaningless task, or some elaborate show to indulge in the drunken revelry of laughter. The human race is a bunch of laughers, criers, Haters, lovers, etc. . . . . We are divine, and we deserve divine, decadent foods for our soft well nourished palates. This is what makes us so great, that we can enjoy it, correct? No other animal can do this. No other Animal can pollute. No other Animal can commit genocide. No Animal can create it's own justice and morals like we can. No other Animal can worship the gods. But if they could have the capability to see them, would they? Wouldn't they follow them with a greater desire than we, the easily bored, bipedal, free thinking, ego maniacs?

If our brains were capable of understanding the universe, wouldn't we already know by now? Could it be that we will soon only base our thinking off of what we have learned thousands of years ago? With all the corruption of knowledge, history, forgetfulness I really only see us getting so far. I really only see myself getting so far.

People seem so alien to me sometimes, like raving carnivores. A smile can seem so horribly wrong in so many situations. Like the glint of moonlight off of a rabid wolf, our teeth glisten all the same. Our eyes dilate and our mouths salivate. Fortunately being the well groomed creature I am, I do not base anything off of this irrational fear. I say irrational because the fastest instincts are in fact, irrational. The most necessary ones are, hopefully if I come under attack my deep rooted ancestral rage can take over. I believe I am going to at least try to live off of the land while it is still possible.

My falling out song

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2rlQdfZXUg

There's a gap in between
There's a gap where we meet
Where I end and you begin
I'm sorry for us
The dinosaurs roam the earth
The sky turns green
Where I end and you begin

I am up in the clouds
I am up in the clouds
And I can't
and I can't come down
I can watch and can't take part

Where I end and where you start
Where you,
you left me alone
You left me alone

X will mark the place
Like the parting of the waves
Like a house falling in the sea
In the sea

I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
There will be no more lies
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive
I will eat you alive

perfect song for a perfect little disaster in our lives.

torn asunder

the only drawing I really cared about, was destroyed today beyond recognition. I feel like I have a piece of myself torn away that I will never be able to understand or feel again. This is too fucked for words. I am trapped in chaos now, obliterated within my own existence. It makes me want to cry but I don't think I know how anymore. Now I am just a paranoid, egocentric fuck lost in a drawing that doesn't exist anymore. lost in myself. I'm just so lost for words right now, it's not worth it. I can't say another thing, gone gone gone gone gone gone. I can't make it. goodbye.

When I am weak

Sometimes it is just too much, the feelings welling up inside me. Not forming pressure to explode but rather deep incisions into my core. I look at the shadows cast by the people before me, so big to fill. But my true desire is not to fill them but to enrich them. I suppose it is only natural to look at another great person before you and feel this overwhelming desire to give them purpose. It is not death I am scared of but an empty life.

I feel a burning light inside me, seeping through the cracks like a molten storm. A bittersweet cacophony of sound saying one thing, "I will do things for the better." I built this shell to protect this gentle flame from the raging sea of disparity to give up. My greatest nightmare is that great people will go unnoticed, the voices of humanity will fall upon empty ears. If there could be just one stone left on an empty beach that could say "We were here." it would be a wealth beyond imagination to me. If I could just write into the sand and say "I exist." so that in one moment the bubbling froth of the ocean could acknowledge my presence with a faded wash back, it would complete me. We are possibly a part of the greatest nexus in the universe and we might not even know it.

Is this simply just my desire of being a man? That Something about life is vulnerable, that it needs to be protected and cherished. To be saved if I can so help it. Than please tell me now, it kills me to ever think that something so beautiful as life will be demolished in a geological second. But it is so ridiculously beyond my control, I feel like atlas some days. At least atlas knows he is doing something right.

Life it seems to me is like a giant tree, growing as fast as it can with all of it's might to one day burst forth with the flowers necessary to give life to the next generation. Is it on an island? will the seeds ever make it to newer more distant shores. I suppose everything goes onward, the dirt I will be buried in does not care if I am in it. It ultimately becomes a harsh reality, that the only things that care about you are the things that are similar to you. Perhaps I am just hungry for glory, perhaps I am just being a man again.

Flawed oh so beautifully flawed, a noble lion trapped in it's own courage. Like bars of fate I want to rip at them until my claws are dull. To be born a man is to be born a lover of life, a love so strong it slowly corrodes your insides until all that is left is but a frail exoskeleton of hope. A strong ideal sense of self worth coupled with a brute understanding of cost. Nothing is ever free until you allow it to be. How much did your birth into this world really cost you? was there something so great that we had before? To breath is to work and to work is to breath. When is the moment going to be that my full potential can be unleashed? I am tired of enjoying the simple pleasures they are simple for a reason, no matter what you can come back to them. There is too much energy combusting in my being to sleep it off. Fading like a dying star I feel my strength ebbing away. I think I have severely injured myself.

All this lack of sleep is causing me to hallucinate, This passion overwhelming. This body has seemed to take it well before, I can only hope it continues to. As long as I am breathing I will fight to have a purpose, as long as I can move my hands I will paint for the lost voices of time. Each sentence, every word is a fight for life. Pushing and shoving forward until that voice inside me can tell me that I have done well. That is why I must not sleep tonight, that is why I must never break until the job is done. I have work in 6 hours and counting, in six hours I must sit and think about wanting to do something and be trapped behind a counter that says I must do nothing.

Money is just not quite as satisfying as a good pat on the back. Fuck this moment in time, I hope it passes quickly. I hope those people are enjoying their food because it is crushing my spirit. I must go on, I never want to be able to say ,"if could have done _____." fuck money. Observe; this is when I am weak.

Homo sapiens

I have always found it quite interesting that the greatest feeling we can ascribe to life is love. I find it quite interesting that most of us feel like the only way we can satisfy that feeling is with reciprocity of another person. I find it even more incredibly interesting that not only do we believe that this feeling must come from a certain percentage of the population, half to be exact. And as if that was not enough we believe that the only way for this cup to be full is if it is filled by one person and one person only.

Humans love to believe in ridiculous odds, let's face it, statistics isn't the greatest class of all time. It is our love for ridiculous odds that causes most of them to come true. At least . . . . We would like to think so. Optimism is like a Lion, braving the onslaught of reality or even reason to win it's way for the simple sake of itself, happiness feels so good. Very, very few of us feel this benign sensation more than the overwhelmingly mundane feeling of routine. At my happiest moment I could be hit by a bus and not have a painful bone in my body.

It is this benign belief in love against all odds that ultimately grants our wishful thinking. Like a dream all the intrinsic details of reality are cast out from our gaze. Every dream feels so real because we want it to. We meet the one because we wanted to.

In theory if there is only one true soul mate out there for you than that means that there are literally millions out there that are not for you at all. all the horrible relationships that we endure and all the great ones that we lose will pale in comparison to that one stable person. In comparison to who we have been with before, very many people could seem like they are perfect. Wishful thinking can cause mental gymnastics.

Which leads me to my own belief, that every animal wants to have children. No matter what living thing you find alive today, they all want to reproduce. because to put it bluntly, the ones that wanted to reproduce were the ones that survived. And to the next level the ones that desired the greatest partners, got the greatest spawn. . . . . etc. . . etc. . . in a long timeline of an unabashed sexual frenzy. ( oh I know I just sound like the perfect romantic don't I?) Wishful thinking can kill even the best of us, but wishful thinking keeps us alive. At least the survivors anyways.

So in essence, our soul mates are the best of who we find. If we never found our soul mates in our endless search than we wouldn't have soul mates then would we? Yep marriage sucks a fat one we are very aware of that, we have lived under examples of ones. But I can think of something much worse; dying alone. sure single life is great until you are over the hill, soon to face the dark shadow of the valley behind it. Then being alone doesn't seem all that great. Of course there is some hope for all the loners out there (me being one of them.) but it is rather bittersweet. Everybody must die alone, but not everyone has to face it alone. We cannot take our spouses with us and one of us has to endure the lonely life on earth afterwards. That could be the trade off perhaps?

This is where the struggle for all old people comes into play; children. Ah children, considered so pure because they are dumb. Retards are forever pure. I don't know how but I seem to have been lead under the belief my whole life that becoming an adult is when I lose my innocence. That somehow, beautiful things such as sex are horribly, horribly tainted. Well of course adult life is going to suck when you keep being told it will. Living without children is a very noble undertaking and I am in awe of those that can pull that off. Because it is the deepest desire within all of us, because we come from generations

of fuckers. . . . . .

Nature vs. Nurture? Pshhhh. . . . nature wins by a long shot. If there was no "nature" we were born with then would somebody please explain to me what the fuck is a cerebellum??? I believe in that debate we are born with the same body plan as we have always had for 10's to thousands of years (has been proven.) but we are also born as malleable wads of clay, easy to be manipulated for greater things such a rocket science or massive serial killing; Sarcasm if you cannot tell. It is our nature to fuck, took me such a long time to figure that out. Thanks a lot Mom and Dad, my sheltered life has really brought me happiness. Maybe for a young lady it might be better to not tell them this concept but for all the hapless teenage boys out there they need to know why they are going crazy.

The nature to fuck can surpass many things in the animal kingdom, the nature to eat, the nature to sleep, the nature to think (haha, I hope people have read about this one.), even survival, even the nature to breath (if you disagree with this one you haven't had great sex.) Yes, yes, we get it. it is quite debilitating.

Now I am starting to sound real horrible, a pessimistic horny asshole it seems. Although I think it would be fun to leave it at that (especially since that seems to be horribly attractive to some people.) I will now show you Dom the Dreamer. Dom the truly hopeless romantic. I love certain people in my life to death. I would literally stop bullets for them, or at least as much as my ribcage can deflect. But almost 95% of these people I cannot truly get physically close with. That is a whole different level. Within the confines of my mind there is limitless possibilities. I can imagine heavens, hells, earths, galaxies, universes all contained within thousands of pebbles rolling in a sea of chaos. I can imagine all of the traits about me, all of the greatest things my best guy friends or relatives have said. I can imagine all my greatest fears, joys, sorrows as this boundless, fathomless ocean. All of these things about myself seeming so vast, so complex that even I still do not understand them. But what I can't imagine is someone so different, so alien to me it seems like the rain in their minds is purple and flows upward into a beautiful mosaic of lightning and tornadoes. A person that somehow confounds and defies all that I thought I knew about life and turns it onto its head. A completely fresh perspective. Something so relieving in its essence that to simply look into their eyes is to look through the depths of the ocean from the eyes of a bird and at the same time the eyes of a whale. This to me is the idea of the completion of myself, after of course finding out what exactly myself is yet. but that is for another time.

the path of least resistance

It seems too convenient that god is a father.