divine_logic (divine_logic) wrote in boston_rob,

see my vest!

Hello, I am now part of this glorious community....I don't know what it's intent is, but I was told to join. Here is a written piece I wrote a while ago:

I see the problem. I see. I see. I'm logged in, connected. I see. I can see why I have lived my life, why I have considered myself immortal. I pre-meditate everything. While others act without thought and can be forgiven their daily trespasses, I've never done anything that hasn't been considered 5 to 6 steps ahead. Everything I do follows some grand archetype, grand scheme, grand providence that I have yet to realize. The ones which fall from grace, or often come to naught, I still hold dearly, I still caress sweetly as to a newborn child. I still hold on to their rotting corpses and kiss their long cold lips. I consider myself immortal. I plan and I choose everything I do, and for this I am eternally damned, because in a world where the only knowledge is ignorance, the only truth is lies, I am forever a sheep and forever in the dark. God is no longer a sufficient shepherd for me. The world spins round in futility and ever further from the sun, we've premeditated hundreds of thousands of possible death scenarios for ourselves, and only to the end of providing a bogeyman for some cause. Save the ozone, save the dolphins, save the poor underprivileged children of fuck-knows where when we can't even save ourselves. If we've premeditated everything, if we know the only things certain in life are death and taxes, then we've taken the thrill. They've taken my thrill. They've told me the end of the movie, and the thrill of how I get there is not nearly good enough. If all road lead to death and every death is solitary then why connect. Why be social, why be special, why be a unique and beautiful snowflake. Fuck snowflakes, they bring ice and pain and cold, and death. They bring sadness and destroy all of natures placebos. All the things in this world to be happy about. To fill our lives with until we hit the end of the story. Whiskers on kittens, and brown paper packages, and nuns in blue aprons spinning through a Nazi regime and singing about the grassy hills; these are a few of the things I don't need. I don't need any of it. I know that I know nothing, but I can't know that because I know nothing. There is no knowledge no matter how hard we try to conceive of it, but I feel different. I've been given a taste of the golden cup of enlightenment, and I want more, but the human brain is not meant to know. I want it, but I know I can't have it, and that knowledge has driven me to the edge. I'm standing at the edge, I'm standing at the ledge, I'm standing at the hedge, the wall, the precipice, the outrageous fortune, the slings, the arrows, the guns, the bombs, the feces, the piss, the cum, the thoughts, the world, the life, the death, the sleep, the birth, the universe, the Buddha, the nirvana, the Shiva, the Christ, the qu'ran, the guru nanak and all his guru buddies. I'm standing at it all, and I can't see the forest for the trees. I can't see the trinity for the threes, I can't see anything without the aid of a lens, I can't feel anything without the aid of sense, of touch, of taste, of smell, of falsity. The senses creating emotion in a secretion in my brain, an increase in serotonin, or some such thing. Fuck it all, there's no reason. If you judge me you become me, and I've been turning into myself from the moment I began coherent thought. I'm connected, logged in. I see. I see. I see the problem.
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic
  • 1 comment