(no subject)

[shiningfractal]

what's with the foul mood Rose

it is instinct

I feel like I lost

what I formerly had

that sense of being

very drunk

I'm not drunk

not anymore

and this is driving me crazy

I'm just looking for

the slightest opportunity

to plumet into the gutters

and indulge in corpselike immobility

this earthly existence

has been an exercise in futility

ever since I met Alexsandra

a situation so cruelly unforeseen

something infernal took place

in that accursed space

the simplest course was

to beg her for attention

I didn't want her as a trophy

I needed to gaze at her pensive air

listen to her deep thoughts

chat with her and get lost into conversation

about the most esoteric topics imaginable

for none of the ones I tested

were beyond the reach of her intellect

I craved her more as a friend than a lover

but I needed her more as a lover than a friend

for friendship would never have been enough

not with such strange allure that connected me to her

between attorney and priest

she chose the obvious

to my great disappointment

I would have lived a Francis

if she deigned to be my Clara

but I couldn't don the suit

and follow her into the Night

that I had abandoned at such a great cost to myself

the semi-certainty that

I crossed paths with the Devil

before finding her

has taught me that

direction

is more important than

speed

I feel like I'm going in the right direction

even though I'm moving very slowly

I should pick up the pace over time

what is disturbing me

is not that she left my life forever

I already got to terms with that

the disturbing bit is

how she managed to be

Remembered

Forever

so effortlessly

what kind of person

is capable of giving

such a Lasting impression

just by existing

I will never talk to her again

I will never see her again

I don't even have tears to cry about it anymore

so that's what is troubling you Rose

that girl again

find someone who can love you

someone with a

disinterested love

a soothing love

to heal you from this

self inflicted wound

the wound is healed

but I remember the pain

when I trace the Scar

wounded beyond relief and abandoned

heart stabbed and made to suffer

it is extremely stupid know

I should exercise more indifference

but it took me a long time

to earn the ability

to simply walk away

from women that I love

I think this is the first step

the journey ahead is long

the most beautiful lady in all creation

my Princess

is somewhere inaccessible

and will remain so

unless I change

there is nothing wrong with her

she's just a smart girl growing up

the wrong is in me

maybe I'm giving myself

too much time

maybe I should set a deadline

that's it

get your life together in fiver years

or kill yourself

something like that

but I can't quite do it

I still don't see this as urgent

that's a big problem

maybe I'm too patient

I was taught patience

from a very early age

anxiety has no hold over me

although if you checked my nails you'd think otherwise

just a bad habit, that's all

the Germans made sure I couldn't bite my nails off anymore

as I used to do as a kid

my fingers would bleed

and I'd keep on biting them off

well, I have nothing to say tonight anymore

I'm just indulging in some superficial verbiage

but I'm too tired to work on the paper

and not yet tired enough to go to sleep

so I gotta write some more nonsense

oh my the tears came back

nothing remained in me

of my juvenile gaiety

I'm just a tired man

tired of being tired

tired of being man

but what else could I be

I have no option but be what I am

is that true?

is that really true?

I'm not a good enough roleplayer

to spend the rest of my life

pretending to be girl

or anything of this sort

that would be silly

if that was who I am

it would be effortless

but it is not

I wonder what did God meant by

sending her to me

one second too early

one second too late

and I would never even have knew her name

she would just be a face

Haunting ME

FOREVER

but now that I got a name

I wield it

Alexsandra

could I ever be truly in love

with another woman

she's my Dulcinea

and this has been enough

the loss of something I never had

has been so soul crushing

that I need to invent ways

of detaching from it without perishing

become a deceptive multitude of creatures

engage in constant talks with myself

the lower self talking back to the higher self

the shadow constantly mocking the ego

the child learning secret truths from the fool

a metamorphosis replacing the new with the old

what am I becoming?

I couldn't say

maybe I'm becoming myself

could there ever be a more profound observation

when I'm tired of this

I'll resume living

in yet another make believe world

until I ran out of words

or the world runs out of me

the Baroness is very kind

for allowing me to entertain these

bizarre thoughts

she dresses to impress

her clothing tonight was fairly beautiful

she has good taste

not that I understand much of clothing

but she looked really good in that piece

I wish I could see more of that

but I'll probably see less

hey stop exaggerating

it was just a common set of clothes

yes, you're right

I just wanted to mention her

and the only thing noteworthy she did yesterday

apparently was wearing some fancy clothes

so I had to comment on that

maybe it is a form of perversion

to seek to love

at the same time

the most loathed of harlots

and the purest angel on earth

I think all women can be both

maybe our mistake so far has been

forcing them to choose one or the other

the princess of a Foreign Country

could never understand me better

than the Weaver of my suffering

the Baroness who so keenly understood

the soul of these degenerates

and manages to profit from it

perhaps because she partakes in their degeneracy

the saints respect me

because I partake in their sainthood

even though I'm not one of them

I read their book

I try to practice its principles now and then

but I'm not one of them

I don't believe in this stuff

I only read the book because I've been brainwashed

I'm aware of what is going on

but I feel powerless to stop it

getting the world out wouldn't even be scandalous

if the intelligence agencies

managed to keep me out of the spotlight so far

where the hell would I go to get a

Voice

they closed the lid at the very top

no word is getting out

and in all honesty

I find it very amusing

aren't they the dearest friends?

doing charity like a millionaire

picking up a prostitute in a street corner

how careless people are

I keep going

postponing the choice

between degradation

and an honorable death

is there another way out?

for someone who has crossed every red line?

I'm so cancelled man

so fucking cancelled

and I don't even care

I own this reputation

it was a pretty good joke

it was

even though the only one laughing was me

well the joke is good

I'm just not very good at

telling jokes

their idea of love

of friendship

is obedience

and affectation of insensibility

you gotta pretend

you're not effected

by all the crazy shit

they do on the regular

you have to suspend

Judgement

so as to not be judged

they teach that in a very simple way

judging you more harshly than you ever could judge anyone

they toss your every sin at your face

they can keep doing it for hours

days weeks months years

it never stops

you learn the weight of your own sin

and then you learn to forgive

because everyone else is carrying the same burden

and then

only then

you learn not to judge

the Baroness might be a degenerate but

I don't know what she went through

maybe this is the only way she can cope with life

if someone told me

you can't write anymore

this would certainly kill me

in fact being murdered would be preferable

you may say I'm not a good writer but

I've been writing for so long

my style is simply playing with words

because I never knew what to say

I had to come up with a system

that allowed to me to write

endlessly

I can literally do it all day

when I have nothing better to do

I do it all day everyday

yet it is just poetry

there is no money to be made from it

it doesn't come from me

it comes from the muses

they enable me and I bless them

they bestowed this boon upon me

and all they asked for was my

Identity

to drop the false pride

recognize this stuff

doesn't come from me

and that I have as much control over it

as a man who tunes his radio to a particular station

maybe I can call them

and ask them to play

my favorite song

but they won't do it every single day you know

sometimes there are

more important things

to worry about than my

Feelings

(I did indeed find her so charming

I'd date her

if she wasn't such a stuck up bitch)

I would naturally be delighted by this solution

but as a Proper Lady

I don't really take the initiative in dating

sorry

I won't approach you

unless I'm absolutely positive

you like me

the last ten times I approached a girl

whom I was not absolutely positive they liked me

I got burned badly

should I keep going?

all I want is someone to go through life with

maybe make a few babies

I'm not at my best right now

haven't been ever since the old man died

I've been trying to drag myself

out of this pit but

alone

it is far more difficult

I will remember

that when I most needed someone

no one was there

but I will also remember

that I made some friends somehow

even I don't understand how did that work

guess Creative Spirits

naturally attract an Audience

even if mine

aren't at liberty

to publicly assume they

entertain my antics

it would be shameful

like admitting that that you go

to a Gay Pole Dancing Bar

to watch the cute trannies

I guess some people get off to this

I've been doing all this

solely for the mockery

I was never foolish enough to think

I'd ever get any financial return

even if jokingly I asked for some bitcoin at some point

the angels mocked me when I told them I lacked money

it is like telling a doctor

you miss feeling pain

and whether he doesn't have a medicine to give you

that will make you feel more pain

the angels don't care about money

all they will do is ensure

you're fed and clothed

by any means necessary

wherever you go

and if they must use

dumb luck

for that

they will

but they prefer to use

charitable people

the book says not to go from house to house

but stay in one place for as long as you remain in that city

well I haven't changed cities

so I don't have a reason to change houses either

I'm being fed and clothed here

my host gracefully even provided me with a computer

to post nonsense to my friends

the only demand they imposed upon me

is that I do my best studying

and I did

but now the demand grew

and it became

get a college degree

now that's a heavy demand

perhaps too heavy

first because

ever since I realized

I was raised for the sole purpose

of getting a college degree

I vowed not to get one

I'm not saying

I'll be successful regardless of a college degree

what I'm saying is simply

I don't want one

not anymore

not after what you've done to me

just for me to get one

it feels immoral

if you really want me to get one

you'll have to make

so many goddamn exceptions for me

that a retarded mongrel would need less support

and I've seen in the news some retarded mongrels graduating

I've had enough of this

I should pack my things and leave

or maybe just leave

wake up one day and

walk away

from it all

no tech no documents no nothing

travel to the countryside

get a job as a farmhand

and never speak to anyone ever again

except to say

yes sir

or

no sir

that would be great actually

I don't have anything worthwhile to teach those children

I don't know the subject I was supposed to teach

I bought a bunch of grammars but

I don't even have time to read them

I need to keep going back and forth doing fucking nothing

and they teach me every fucking thing about language

except proper grammar

they simply assumed I knew it already

what's the matter with you?

I'm just a poor sick man

living off of charity

I'm no better than that beggar by the church steps

and yet there is a multitude of people

who gather beyond screens

to read the crap I write

don't they have anything better to do

why do they waste time on this

am I truly so genial

that my ideas must be followed

that all those millions of hands and minds

must be put under my service

wouldn't they carry me in their arms

and house me in a palace

were that the case

well I live like spoiled royalty

I have every fucking thing I need

and even things I don't need

I never worked a day in my life

and yet I never starved

was always clothed

always had shelter

I don't know struggle

all my struggle has been

with my own mind

to try and make sense of the world

it got so bad in fact

that I find it insulting

that anyone would imply

that I would allow myself

to be reduced to poverty

I'd rather take my own life

but since that hasn't happened

as the aristocrat that I am

I deign to help you out

with your minor peasant problems

oh there is starvation

oh our profits are too low

oh people don't believe our bullshit anymore

oh our women don't want to have babies no more

peasant problems

I do it out of pity

but it not a goody-two-shoes kind of pity

it is a malignant pity

I look at your silly problems

and I think

you've done that to yourself

go ahead and fix it

the best I can do for you

is teach you how to fix your own mess

I'm not gonna fix it for you

those goddamn buffons

think that a mind like mine

demands anything other than

Sustenance

I just had the bad luck

of being born in a family

that feeds me Meat everyday

but never thought about

buying a Cow

it was one of the very first thing

I asked my parents about

when I learned meat

comes from cows

I spent weeks

WEEKS

trying to convince my parents

to buy a cow

but they didn't listen to me

I guess that was the beginning

of my malignant pity

when I learned

that the people in charge

are complete morons

and there is nothing I can do about it

it is learned helplessness

and Help Me God

smart as I may be

I have no idea how to get rid of it

***