Sunday, September 23, 2007

slip, falter...

We can't all be angels, can we? Every once in awhile I must disappoint you. Then the voices take over...

"We take to the roads and backways. We do not want to be seen. We are part of the night, but then again, I guess we always were..."

Will we continue on without him?

"I doubt it; we are but a figment of his imagination, his world, his psyche, his... his...

What a mess!!!

"He won't feel a thing. But to make the transformation, he must die. Die to be reborn. He has a list of things to do. Will he do them?"

Time will tell in the end...

I'm reduced to nothing in the space of but a few moments. I could tell you about Resident Evil: Extinction, but I'm weary and a little bit woozy. Oh sure, I'm the king of getting up and fighting, always fighting. I've unwittingly patterned myself after Norm McDonald, loved by just enough to not be swallowed by the rising tide of bullshit, the nauseating stench of what has never been real inside me. Am I lost, or am I one of the few that see. See that it is a battle that can't be won. What is it you do to stave off what has become the daily bump and grind? Does it satisfy, does it...?

"Hold the demons at bay?"


This is a rare glimpse of what is deep inside me, what makes me not tick. I start and never finish. Where did I go wrong? I keep going back and searching through all that I can remember. I was normal. Do I have a complex?

"Trust me, when this volcano blows, it's gonna spew all over..."


I'm capable of murder, but not without reason. And thievery, but not without cause. Betrayel, but not without due process, and an inside knowledge of my quarry. I am vengeance, I am the burning feeling you have when you've lost, but can redeem yourself. I am the tablescraps disguised as the winnings, the spoils of your tireless efforts. You hold me close, you fawn over me, and yet you hate me.

"Don't worry, he won't win..."

He... won't... prevail.

"He never does."

Shut up, you... you...

"I win again!!! Surrender!!!"

Soon. Soon. Soon. The tide will turn. Will it? Gawd, I hope so. I can't take much more. I run, and run. Catch me, or I will fall, and I may like it too much to not reach out. And catch. Always teetering...

RE3 was awesome, probably the best zombie flick I've seen in a long time. They even bothered to explain why the undead I saw were running faster than the regular zombies. I don't expect much, but I do expect you guys to share with mewhy, just why, you wanna fiddle with the formula.

Zombies, slow + fast, panicky humans/fresh meat = loads of murder and mayhem. And fun. I give it an A. They will always find a way to corner you in the end, unless you're ready for them. I would hope to be strong enough, but you never know.

Insert pefect BLOG ending here...

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Torn and Asunder...

See me now? I loathe you, you make my blood boil. Why can't you see that you make bile rise to the tip top of my throat hole? It is because of you that I'm up after 4 in the a.m.
"He still doesn't seem to get that this is about him, he just... just..."
Exactly. I have grown sideburns to ward off the stench of your ilk, and the "BROWS" have never failed me even in my darkest times. Tapestries drift lazily as if to a beat of their own, they fan the flames of my seething hatred towards this horrid apparition. I know you all too well.
"We loathe you."
Bringer of Doom.

Mein eyes cross, as if to say that I am always attempting to search my inner self, yet always end up being obstructed by my proboscis. I am weary of your presence, and mein as well. I wish to be away from here, it all, and to never come back. I wake up daily. That is all I can do.
"What now?"
We wait...