FROM THE AUTHOR.
I was thinking randomly about how bad stealing Tylenol is for my karma, how cute my new little necklace is, and how sexy the maniacally insane Johnny the Homicidal Maniac is (the brainchild of the absolutely and erradically brilliant Jhonen Vasquez), and so I decided to take a shower and cleanse myself of all traces of cheerleader germs that I might have gotten from the mall, take Tylenol, stroke my necklace, and paint pictures of Happy Noodle Boy on my nails.
Which has nothing to do with my story, except that it's a little poem about Nny.
Have fun reading, reviewing, and sending me nasty e-mails telling me not to poison the planet with my idiocy and illiteracy.
*********************************************
Warped and twisted
Like rain bent wood in the drying sun.
Your mind has lost itself
Not knowing where to find itself
Perhaps I should deny myself
Any knowledge more.
Ignorance is beckoning
Forgetting any reckoning
As military machismo is played out strong
On the television next door.
You laugh and think that
Maybe that's what life is all about.
The movie screens
The blank reveries
Having your mind only being guided by a machine.
But before you laugh look inside yourself
Find the start of the spidering cracks
The cracks that started long ago.
Sent you searching for meaning.
Sent you searching for truth.
But if you stop searching.
And it seems impossible.
The right answer is parallel to the wrong one.
Death and life lie on the same entwining tracks,
As do ignorance and bliss, as they say.
Think of that-no meaning!
Nothing to discover
To uncover.
And yet something festers within your decaying sanity.
Perhaps it lies too deep.
Perhaps you're too far down.
Perhaps your life cannot be the same
Whenever you're around.
So take your knives, take your scythes
Find yourself, in their glazed-over eyes
If there is no answer, killing will do
Suits me fine
But how about you?
*********************************************
I was thinking randomly about how bad stealing Tylenol is for my karma, how cute my new little necklace is, and how sexy the maniacally insane Johnny the Homicidal Maniac is (the brainchild of the absolutely and erradically brilliant Jhonen Vasquez), and so I decided to take a shower and cleanse myself of all traces of cheerleader germs that I might have gotten from the mall, take Tylenol, stroke my necklace, and paint pictures of Happy Noodle Boy on my nails.
Which has nothing to do with my story, except that it's a little poem about Nny.
Have fun reading, reviewing, and sending me nasty e-mails telling me not to poison the planet with my idiocy and illiteracy.
*********************************************
Warped and twisted
Like rain bent wood in the drying sun.
Your mind has lost itself
Not knowing where to find itself
Perhaps I should deny myself
Any knowledge more.
Ignorance is beckoning
Forgetting any reckoning
As military machismo is played out strong
On the television next door.
You laugh and think that
Maybe that's what life is all about.
The movie screens
The blank reveries
Having your mind only being guided by a machine.
But before you laugh look inside yourself
Find the start of the spidering cracks
The cracks that started long ago.
Sent you searching for meaning.
Sent you searching for truth.
But if you stop searching.
And it seems impossible.
The right answer is parallel to the wrong one.
Death and life lie on the same entwining tracks,
As do ignorance and bliss, as they say.
Think of that-no meaning!
Nothing to discover
To uncover.
And yet something festers within your decaying sanity.
Perhaps it lies too deep.
Perhaps you're too far down.
Perhaps your life cannot be the same
Whenever you're around.
So take your knives, take your scythes
Find yourself, in their glazed-over eyes
If there is no answer, killing will do
Suits me fine
But how about you?
*********************************************