Game / Claws

23 February 2010

     At the precipice of depression where the hand reaches up and my gaze is cast down is where I find myself lost before tumbling into the abyss and signing away my soul to the oblivion.

            Today I reach the brink of enlisting the black parade with reminding thoughts of what all I don’t deserve. The science of deserving is nonexistent in any field, save supernatural. As supernatural is just, super thought, it’s meaningless to me, and the grand scheme of our ultimate grandeur.

     If we speak currently and self-appointedly, we deserve fun when we provide work. After all, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
     From what I am aware, our workers are not boys, and if they are not men, we – great ape society, we – have fallen even farther astray from the brain ladder to our tight ropes.

     At point, “game” only meant “goal,” in a variety of situations all relating to survivalism. We are undeserving of our conception, no, mutation, of “game.”

     Outside of the social spider’s naturally woven web of science’s beautiful realm, we “create” degenerations ahead. Speaking on behalf of blindly offending unknowing man; vos lido Homindae.

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20 February 2010

     I mean, it kind of sucks tearing someone’s heart out when you barely used your claws. But what can you do. Importantly, what can I do? Truthfully, a whole lot. Forget it, the happiest time of my life as of yet. Disappear like sprinkles to dance in the dark. “What if you meet the love of your life, are you supposed to just let them pass you by?” The line affected me more than the moral of the story, for I know when he’s just not that into me. There the problem doesn’t lie, it’s near the opposite, not quite. Am I more? I must be, but am I scaled? Maybe.