CoMa
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| From the diaries of an Antichrist. | ||||||||
| ...The places I came too were filled with troves of people leading the most alien lives. It was like everyone knew what everyone else was thinking, but they were too ensconsed in how they would use one's thoughts against him, that I think in the end, they lost sight of what was really going on. And inside grew something so strange and unlikely that the only thing you could personify it with was a question mark. They often told stories of the grave and untrue. All in the hopes that they could get inside you. The shells never mattered, unless they had tits. But all in all they just weren't really there. The crust on the outer rim of the ketchup bottle. Tastes the same but revolting nun the less. Their priests would meander about the boulevard and wait for someone to notice the light that was burning out above him. Anyone who would stop and stare and maybe even care, he'd show them his heavanly delights. But woe betide the passerby for their ignorance shall be his bliss, their indifference, his end. CoMa |
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