EliotLeon

When hollowness creeps up on you in a sure steady pace and you're up against the wall of your skull knowing there is no way out and it is going to get you somehow, panic and frenzy ensues. Low of lows, emptiness flows through the chambers of your heart like liquid nitrogen; freezing the warmth of your blood that's been gushing through you with life. You recognize this experience of being down in the gutters of bleakness. You want to purge it out but it remains within your rectum like dehydrated stool in what seems to be the most glorious form of constipation. Enema falls short of being effective as it only manages to soften the outermost surf

A decaying soul, A hollow mind, Body gone cold, Eyes gone blind, Catatonic. Catatonic. Catatonic. Greasy matted hair, Lungs devoid of air, Skin drenched in sweat, Sour smelling sweat. I thirst, I hunger, I lust for death. GrymmRipper :]

My name is Kismet. Life on autopilot, Predetermined choices, And fictional freedom. With a voice that bears no gravity, And a body that bears no weight. The sky is out of reach, And the Earth? No, I am not grounded. I dwell in a subconscious limbo. Constantly arriving, At points of diversion. On a bifurcated trail, I turned left. For a left is a left, And a right is a left. Beyond the split, I depart, Yet again, only to arrive, At another divide, I turned right. For a right is a right, And a left is a right. My name is Kismet, And my life is on autopilot. Morals and ethics, Doctrines of religion, Schools of philosophy, Abandoning one, An

Rooted in the womb of vision, The matrix defines perception. Bonded by blood to the life force. If we were to sever the umbilical cord to Maya, All that will be left are ghost shells.