Thread replies: 103
Thread images: 69
Thread images: 69
There's something less than human, that's walking down the street.
It's hiding it's emotions, from everyone it meets.
You'd think this creature tragic, but it feels quite content.
It lacks the means to regret, the time alone it's spent.
Daily it meets it's demons, but takes hardships in stride.
It's awfully hard to break down, what's been broken inside.
It cannot feel temptation, there's nothing that it wants.
Envy and greed escape it, it has no wealth to flaunt.
The vain would call it worthless, the wise call it a fool.
It calls itself a witness, to people turning cruel.
If all lives need a purpose, a goal for it to crave.
Is it driven by success, or is it now it's slave?
It's something less than human, or maybe something more?
If it's life lacks a meaning, what is it Iiving for?
>>
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gg7pu_wREKA
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delet this RIGHT NOW AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
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>>39366178
Why must you do this to me
oorrrrrrrrr
>>
>>39366262
Holla
Yay
Look here shorty
I see you over there
Talking at Jean Pierre Le Douche
You need the come holla at the real fat vibe Faberyayo
'Cause you mighty tasty look
You lookin' real tasty
You lookin' like a meal
Matter of fact
You lookin' like breakfast, bitch
You breakfast
Bitch, you breakfast
You breakfast
You breakfast
You the cheese on my baguette
The jelly on my bread
The French on my toast
Where the ho's at
Bitch, you breakfast
You're breakfast
Bitch you breakfast
You're breakfast
>>
beneath endless eaves she heaves
squatting spitting blood on rotting
leaves she's rocking cradling swollen
belly in inevitable penance of misdeeds
scourge of seed whose clotting growth
expels bloating sulfuric vapors some
tapir demiurge's perfume squeezed into
tapering lazy plumes before the both
of her sunken roots sink until her fuck
rubs muck and the urge to spew foul
stew expresses itself in trickles of lurid
feculance sluicing the clotted tapestry
now clinging to matted ass like incest
slow and surely only her snout sucks
air like a fish on a cistern rusted through
nostrils soak suck reswallow all what's dispelled
and the toads begin to croak croak croak
croak croak croak croak croak croak croak
>>
>>39366790
In the stifled laugh
Lingering,
Hanging above the coffin
Lay the burnt wick -- maybe
Of dreams worth dreaming:
A jar invisibly open;
A door ajar, beckoning,
To the unknown passerby.
A voice awry, dully
-- Ashamedly, I'm sure --
Rose, and yet
No one listened to it;
I thought of little things,
Tangled shoelaces or lips,
Dry socks or eyes. The voice then
Crescendoed into a maddening
Mesh of noises and awkward
Pauses; so I left.
On my way home l bought
Food, if memory serves, and
A deep blue cobalt glass
Vase for our living room.
>>
>>39366440
You the cheese on my baguette
The jelly on my bread
The French on my toast
Where the ho's at
Bitch you breakfast
Yeaah
You're breakfast
Yay!
Flapjacks and bacon
Let me sip it ojay
Holla holla holla
Oatmeal and granola
You're breakfast
Yeah bitch, you're breakfast
Eggs on the side up on look bitch
Want scrambled over jam
Ho, you better 'cause you're breakfast
Yeah bitch, you're breakfast
Ye-ah
Bitch, you're breakfast
Yeah!
You breakfast I may eat ya
Me do you in the kitchen
Do you on the table
Do you from a hot meal walk
Sippin from your navel
Bitch, you're breakfast
You're breakfast
You're breakfast
Let me crack that chicken legs wide open
And just start over there
It's eight in the morning
You tasty, you're lookin' like a meal
You breakfast
You breakfast
You breakfast
You breakfast
Bitch
>>
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>>39366228
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSpRdAJ4GWA
>>
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I'm a house cloistered in itself haunted by furtive ghosts. I'm always in the next room, or they are, and trees loudly rustle all around me. Ah, it's you, my childhood days!
And during all of this I walk down the street, a wandering sleepyhead, a stray leaf. Some slow wind has swept me off the ground and I drift, like the end of twilight, among the details of the landscape. My eyelids weigh heavy on my dragging feet. Because I'm walking I feel like sleeping. My mouth is shut as if to seal my lips. I walk the way a ship sinks.
No, I didn't sleep, but I'm more myself when I haven't slept and still can't sleep. I'm truly I in the incidental and symbolic sense of which I delude myself. One or two people look at me as if they knew me and found me strange. I'm vaguely aware of looking back at them, with eyes l can feel under the eyelids that rub against their surface, but I'd rather not know about their existence.
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Now I lay you down to sleep,
I pray the Lord your soul to keep.
May the angels watch you through the night,
and keep you in their blessed sight.
You are Ioved. Amen.
>>
After a bad night's sleep, nobody likes us. The sleep which deserted us took with it something that made us human. We feel latent irritation that even seems to imbue the air around us. It's we, after all, who deserted ourselves; it's between us and us that the silent battle of diplomacy is fought.
Today I've dragged my feet and heavy fatigue through the streets. My soul has been reduced to a tied-up ball of thread, and what I am and have been, which is me, forgot its name. I don't know if I'll have a tomorrow. All I know is that I didn't sleep, and the confusion I feel at certain moments imposes long silences on my internal speech.
Ah, the huge parks enjoyed by others, the gardens familiar to so many, the tree-lined paths where people who will never know me walk! l stagnate between sleepless nights, and my meditation is startled awake like a dream when it ends.
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We were depIeted too soon. Remember the day we first really met, face-to-face, inside Iatticed glass that cut the sun, near innumerable faces spilling their burdens of Iove and longing, me sipping insipid Airport coffee, you lost among the tiles under the duress of thousands of daily feet? It was a fluke we found each other so fast. Your eyes shone like runes adorned with some green, mystical, astral enchantment, recently unearthed to the astonishment and spiritual rekindling of all living beings on this planet. I was too young then to know truly what I had. You were too. Our lost days were the product of youthful naivete, of us too entrenched in our respective cataclysms to render any respites. I think hard most days of those precious weeks we spent in each others' company; I felt something I never felt once before, never peered into, never sanctioned to study: I felt love. I wish I had the proper faculties to share myself with you, fully, in that time. My anger, my sadness, my entire childhood delegated to my own lonely devices, prevented me from bestowing all my beauty within you. I wish things were different for you. We had our time, however. Our quiet moments forever etched between us, deep past sordid cognitive rookeries, in neurological pathways I'd protect with my entire being, that I frequently visit when I'm unsure of my place, when I need to break myself down to study how good of a person I am. Let's discover what it means for us to live. Farewell. l love you.
>>
A culminated complex code
As language lifts an awful load
Slyly superstition stowed
Beneath the base of thought's abode
And here is home, a helpless hell
No demons roam or do revel
No sorcerer to end the spell
Our world is wonder's endless well
HowI and scream it lost its dream
Suffering seems to be your theme
A shallow scheme for self-esteem
We were a team in my daydream
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Don't let the chryssalid bite you
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I have faith in you. Remember, you can will anything into existence. Even God. Beliefs are a system of neural connections in your brain and changing a firmly held belief requires an actual physical rewiring of connections in your brain, which is a taxing experience for most people, so they try to avoid it. Our success in society depends on our ability to form a consistent and knowable identity, which allows us to form meaningful and trusting relationships; as this makes us cease to be unpredictable or foreign in the eyes of others and therefore we are accepted by them. When we maintain traits and mannerisms indefinitely we become a recognizable and relatable brand, but this must be done at the expense of our ability to grow and change as a person at least to some degree, or at least publicly we cannot change our values and beliefs without attracting suspicion or contempt from others or will cause them to question your mental health. From the outside a deceitful person and a person who grows and changes look exactly the same. They say one thing and then another, that is, assuming you don't witness them learning and they don't explain the change explicitly. Godspeed
>>
umpb
origigiga
>>
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Dear Chase,
Just like you said they would, the children have been running around the mountains and fields tirelessly since the moment we arrived. Beni is as daring and full of energy as ever, while Cam is still a bit coddled. But neither one seems tired of playing at all. My father seems sad to say goodbye to his grandchildren after seeing them for the first time in so long, but we should be home by this evening. I had forgotten how nice and refreshing the mountain air is. You're always busy back home, so I really wish you could have been here to take in this air. The next time we visit let's ask one of our neighbors to tend to the sheep so we can all come up here as a family. Beni, Cam and I were always thinking about you. When we get home this evening, I'll start cooking some of your favorite stew right away.
With love, your dearest Alex
>>
List:
Rainy days
My home
My grandmother
My parents
My dog
Walks at night
Feeling accomplished
Good company and conversation with my peers
Learning new things
>>
>>39367763
Accomplished: nothing
>>
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One of Van Gogh's Iesser-known pieces of art, this piece, creatively named 1468541259397 is unfairly unappreciated. In the months leading to Van Ghogh's presumed suicide, he poured his soul into this portrait; that of a wide-smiled boy with glistening eyes. The picture has a magical, awe-inspiring vibe to it, but closer examination provides a morbid reality.
First, the smile seems forced; faked. Like a smile you give through tears to someone failing to cheer you up but you admire their efforts. The smile is that of someone who can acknowledge that others care, but knows better to think that they can help. A smile that knows it's too late for you; a hope that your demise won't harm your loved ones.
Second, the eyes are glistening and lack focus. The eyes stare blankly into space, not at the viewer, not in any specific direction; nowhere. They glisten from tears welling up inside them, the undersides of the eyes puffy with the oncoming and continuous sobs of pain. The sobs from someone who has lost all hope, who can't even find the energy to brush their hair, or wipe the oil from their face. The last thing worth examining, is the color of his shirt. Green is a color that often represents new beginnings, like the coming of the spring. Perhaps this piece was Van Gogh's last cry for help; a hope that someone will appreciate the cold winter he endured and assist him in finding his spring. But alas, this piece remained unnoticed, a portrait of a man that's lack of reception killed his creator.
>>
I've got all their names in my ledger
A million pages spilling "anonymous"
My name is Yagami-sensai Lighto
It's all been dictated in sperms: mine
Atop douglas firs sprung up overnight
I shade my keenest vision orb to witness
Them all collapse like a PhysX demo
I have time to ponder this amassing boner
A knocking on my door how can it be
I undo the flashlight bouquet for thee
Thus girdled for slaughter I rise to see
A collapsible cheap knockoff grim reaper
Lordy lordy hear ye hear ye French horns
Assembled to blast an anonymous parade
Stamping along cloudy avenues in snowshoes
All of them will cross the gate but not me
>>
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>>39368013
The circle stands for diffusion and nothingness. That without form becomes something "of and throughout" those things with form. It's sparse. And, a hole has form due to context. The circle is sparse because of its context; that without form has form because of density.
The triangle stands for interaction and form. It's density. Everything with a conceptual boundary is triangle. It does not matter if they are real or unreal, valid or invalid. If they exist, they're triangle. Through thought and action from humans, form is given.
The square is the self, the human form. It is composed of two triangles, interior and exterior.
The exterior triangle is the conceptual form of the individual determined by the thoughts and actions of others. To put it another way, it's "you" as an object or as a subject.
The interior triangle holds the particle of faith, by which you yourself think and act to create truth.
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>>39367843
To live is to deny. The first thing we deny is nothingness, death. We do that with the red we are given just by being alive, which vouches for that life. The more we deny, the more alive we are. That is why applying meaning to our lives and more deeply understanding ourselves makes all of our emotions more powerful, and satisfies us more. We're denying death further by becoming more alive, by wreathing our single red vessel in every color of the rainbow. To put that another way, our objective existence is colored by subjective reality, which makes all things beautiful, but can never contradict objectivity directly, only paint over it with that beauty.truth.
The trust we have for the world is also red as our blood, and we call this love. In acting, we demonstrate that love. I already said this before, so I'll skip over it. Well, those who have known fear also know nothingness; the fear burrows deep into their red hearts and they become a being largely composed of fear. Fear and death are the same, they are the pervading essence of sparseness, the fact that all with form will lose that form. Love is what gives form.
Those with fear in their hearts intuitively break down meaning that they see in the same way that a heart full of love would weave it. There are two perspectives available to the person who realizes truth has no meaning, which both you and I do.
They can say that "truth has no meaning, which means truth itself is trivial". That is my perspective and the reason I see life as a game. "There's not much to life, so I'll just live at face value and have as good a time as I can." That existence is meaningless, and full of action. But the action does not create love.
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>>39367843
They can also say that "truth has no meaning, so I will give truths my own meaning". That is your perspective and the reason you don't feel that you need to live life conventionally. "Happiness is just a construct, so why build it with that basic stuff? I'll grow it from home." That existence is void of meaningful action, and denies the importance of the red, the objective. This, too, does not create love.
Both of these perspectives are those of people full of fear. They do not consider the truths of others to be important, and they are unable to create love because there is no trust between their inside and outside. I live only outside, seeing the inside as a shell, and you retreat inside, on the grounds that the outside is meaningless.
Love comes from trust. Trust for the world, other people, and the self. The objective truth is the most beautiful truth because it is the truth that allows us to love, to be with others. It is the red that fills every one of our hearts. But, the objective truth is a small thing which needs to be furnished with meaning. This is not done only through thought, but through action. With action comes red, which you then make beautiful with your personal, internal meaning. To neglect either is to lack love, or humanity.
I must learn to give his life meaning. And, you must learn to act on your meaning. There is no point is creating a beautiful world for yourself wherein you do nothing. Similarly, doing everything in a world without meaning is a meaningless existence.
So, that's how it is. What do you think?
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>>39367691
hey robot i know looks can be deceivin but i know i saw a light in you
and as we walked we were talkin i didnt say half the things i wanted to
of all the girls tossin rocks at your window
ill be the one waiting there even when its cold
hey robot boy you might have me believin i dont always have to be alone
cause i cant help it if you look like an angel
cant help it if i wanna kiss you in the rain so
come feel this magic ive been feelin since i met you
cant help it if there no one else
mm i cant help myself
hey robot ive been holdin back this feelin so i got some things to say to you
ive seen it all or so i thought but i never seen nobody shine the way you do
the way you walk, way you talk, way you say my name
its beautiful, wonderful, dont you even change
hey robot why are people always leavin i think you and i should stay the same
cause i cant help it if you look like an angel
cant help it if i wanna kiss you in the rain so
come feel this magic ive been feelin since i met you
cant help it if theres no one else
mm i cant help myself
>>
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Once a bitch, always a bitch, what I say.
That's my motto. The name's Miss Behaviour, I'm a hip-hop artist also known as "The Queen Bitch" and "Bottle Girl".
I have a vivid imagination. Sometimes too vivid. Someone pisses me off, and I imagine hog tying them and putting a knife to their throat, but then my imagination runs wild. I imagine how their body tenses up, the look of terror in their eyes, their breathing and heart rate increasing and their eyes clenching shut as the knife gets close. I think about what their thoughts are; life flashing before their eyes. Worried about what their loved ones would do without them. Then I can't help but think just what kind of monster I am for wanting to do this to a person.
Blood. I think that's the thing which really makes me keep thinking these terrible thoughts. When I see a person, I can't help but think about how it must be pulsating inside of them, that sweet, metallic nectar. Everything they are, everything they could be, is a product of that wonderful red wine. I... I sometimes think about... eating people. Sometimes when I hear someone's heartbeat, my mouth waters. I want to bite into that still-beating heart, taste the overflowing sweetness of blood as it seeps out in furious protest. I want to feel the ripping of muscle, the snapping of bone, the tearing of sinew. The name's Miss Behaviour, and I'm a teen werewolf.
>>
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I dream about fellation from time to time. I wonder how different the real thing is from the sensation in the dream. In the dream, it felt rather numb, probably by analogy with licking a finger. I simulate the experience with a gun, it's got a similar texture and size to a dick, you may think not, but the walls of your mouth and throat think so. I tuck my teeth behind my lips. In the past, I couldn't fucking get my mind around that concept and I'd actually have to pry myself off a dick before I turned it into stringed cheese.
So, I became a nun. I knew that if I were ever allowed that experience, the feel of that throbbing member in my mouth, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from literally devouring that poor man. And I wouldn't stop with him. Once I taste blood, it takes forever to get off it. Here in the coven, I'm safe from my own urges in the embrace of God. I want to be good. I want to be pure. It's just... I'm still working at that. Between my daily prayers and services, I still write down-and-dirty heffa rhymes. I also do performances, publish albums, and even go to the club. However, I never violate my vows of chastity, even when hit on. It's for their sake and mine.
But not everything about me is top-notch and infallible. I slept through my eighteenth birthday. Because of this I did not attend my consentment ceremony and the priest-cop was not able to insert my soul. Now I'm a Cartesian automaton. I can't agree to anything and I have to have mommy sign all of my forms. Please, just kill me. It's too painful to live at this point.
>>
>>39366178
I am not good.
I haven't done anything I thought I would.
I am a ronin.
I am a plankton.
I can't even do this.
>>
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>>39368516
But you are not alone
For I am there with you
And though we're far apart
I urge you to keep heart
And to yourself be true
I love you.
>>
>>39368547
Don't be gay, okay?
>>
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>>39368565
Robot, you're a really smart guy. Sometimes you really shock me with what you can do. I think you're capable of a lot more than you let on, and sometimes you can even intimidate people without even meaning to because they can sense that you're really bright. Everyone I know who has met you has something very nice to say except for people you've done bad stuff to. I think you must make a very good impression on people, which is something I wish I could do as well. Even people who have just met you find you very intriguing and as a leader. I think you'll become a wonderful person someday, someone truly amazing.
>>
>>39368461
you cant just ignore your problems. youre gonna have to suck that dick homegirl.
>>
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Damnit, OP
I was having such a good day until now
>>
>>39368602
Meaning is connected to happiness like food is connected to happiness.
Unfortunately, there's only so much food. All the food is objectively real, and we can't break the rules and make food appear out of nowhere.
However, we have unlimited meaning, and meaning isn't part of the rules.
So, meaning means unlimited happiness. And not just happiness.
All of the feelings you can feel are made more by meaning, which comes from yourself.
Not more powerful emotions, just more. Every emotion is better, not more excessive.
It's not about being more overwhelmed by emotion. It's about meaning making the world, and yourself, and everything you feel, more satisfying.
Then we make it satisfying. Why? Because satisfaction doesn't follow the rules either, the way food does. It's all made from personal truths, not objective ones.
So, we just create more when we know how.
Then, why do you eat, sleep, play games or talk to other people?
To get automatic satisfaction through objective means.
It's like using a computer function. Well, meaning is like writing your own computer code to get exactly what you want. It makes you get more satisfaction from those things, and you can even get satisfaction from not doing anything in particular.
That doesn't mean you become lazy and do nothing all day.
It just means every little thing you do is more satisfying, and when things are rough, that doesn't make them rough on you.
>>
>>39368606
Religion is like a "coding for dummies" book which actually has a lot of cool tricks inside. However, those who don't want to read a book like that don't need to. They can just code on their own.
Meaning isn't deep, complicated or big. It's natural and even an idiot can find it.
Red is testament to something between the objective truth and the personal truth. Everyone has blood, without which they will die. Their blood is their objective identity, but also the foundation of their personal truth.
When they get cut, blood rushes out in protest as if vouching for their existence.
And it drips all over the place, saying that "even though a bit of me is gone, I was here".
The more injured you are, the more red comes out.
You're just wasting red if you're gonna live without anything inside you.
There's no difference between blood and grass if you have no meaning.
No difference between red and green.
>>
>You seized me
>And sleezed me
>In your chest
>You stashed me
>I only dream
>Rap by rap
>Verse by Verse
>My chamber walls
>Guardian of pain
>Clutch to clutch
>Mine what's yours
>My invisible czar
>Wants me out
>Needs me in
>Curs age secretly
>It isn't risible
>The buildups breakdown
>Odd even then
>Needles pierce film
>And touch each other
>>
>>39368606
If I cut you, I think red would come out.
Red is about being alive. As long as you have red, you're alive. The reason it is red is because you see it that way. And you can't help but see it as red. That's how it is for us humans. You can't deny the red which makes up your whole body and say it must be green.
That's just factually incorrect.
Argue with someone and it's like waving sharp weapons around. Your truth slashes their truth. If that truth is close to them, part of them, red will come out.
That red is denial, but also life.
To live is to deny, and to create through that denial. It's the denial of nothingness, creation.
If the person isn't fighting then the person is dead. Until they are dead, they fight just by breathing. They deny nothingness, by being something.
That simple existence is one of life, but it's nothing but sad and empty.
To accept everything but death is to be nothing but a dying person.
To accept death is to die. As long as you're physically alive and breathing, you have not accepted death. You may not fear death, but to accept is to become one with.
This world is empty. Total acceptance is total emptiness.
To deny is to have.
That's why people always argue. It's the same as saying "I'm alive".
>>
>>39368578
Surprisingly, you were right about a few of thosr things, but I am skeptical. Although I appreciate the kind words.
>>
>>39368565
>>39368547
I was not serious, please don't be furious.
I am just delirious.
>>
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>>39368768
The ones who like people who are accepting and quiet are the people who are the most self-absorbed. They want to talk to a person who is empty, who accepts everything, so that they can spread themselves. By being listened to, their truth becomes realer. "I am alive, I have things" becomes truer. They deny the emptiness. You could say they want empty people because they're full of themselves. It's absolutely normal to want to be heard, but the quieter you like your friends, the more it says about you.
Some call quiet, opinionless people boring. The people who do that are the ones who want to see red. They want to be denied, because in fighting, they spill red everywhere and know that they're alive. Talking to an empty person means that there won't be any fighting and there won't be any red. That's why it's boring.
>>
>>39368844
This is interesting, because I don't know which side I'm on.
>>
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>>39368722
It's about the person, but it comes down to the same thing. Their meaning. Whether they like to see themselves in others or just see the red that is everyone, it's about meaning.
To have no meaning is to be dead. Your meaning of life right now is just life. Like I said, that's the same as dying. What is life? Who are you?
Do you really not have an answer?
They do, but that doesn't mean they like to rant or argue. By doing anything, you deny absence of action. To struggle is to bleed. To deny is to spill red. And to be alive is to be full of red. If you don't deny enough, you're empty and closer to death.
"Life is just a game." What does that mean when someone says that? By making it larger, more intricate or more powerful, it denies more emptiness.
Simplicity is sparseness. Density is life. The evidence is in everything. We can only see things which are dense, and the more complex they are, the more they mean. That doesn't mean a convoluted, complicated character is the most alive.
It means that the one who feels the most meaning and creates the most meaning is the most alive. That's why doing anything, thinking anything, is evidence of your life.
>>
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>>39368692
Sparseness is death. Things forgotten become simple, things dead break down, things losing form spread out. They don't just disappear. As long as you're full of red, you cannot be dead. You can't be sparse. However, the less you deny, the less alive you are. And life isn't some petty trend. It's to feel, to think, to act, to be satisfied. Everything it means to be human.
Just do stuff and think stuff. By doing, you are. That's why meaning is so important.
Because every action is a small thing, a sparse thing. Density is what gives it form.
And that's called life. It's only so dense, and you're only so alive. Meaning makes it denser and makes you more alive. A certain amount of life is a given for a being made of red.
However, there's more to be had.
>>
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>>39368692
There isn't anything but being alive. Everything is made of human thoughts, validated by human actions, given form by the living. The formless is dead and formlessness is the land of the dead. If you're not alive, then nothing applies to you. Happiness, satisfaction, even boredom.
The only thing stopping you is death.
Find meaning. No, not find. Make it up. Deny nothingness by filling your life with form and density. It's like spreading your wings, like extending yourself. By extension, it lets you do more stuff. It's not filling yourself. You can't do anything but stick to yourself, you are you.
It's filling nothingness with yourself.
If you think it's solid to be nothing but your simple self, this isn't anything more than that.
>>
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>>39368692
However, meaning is your own creation which makes you more you-ish, and also makes the world a thing full of you.
If you find security only in yourself, it makes sense to make the whole world you.
If you can't spread your wings, it's because you're afraid to bump yourself on something. That's why you might, figuratively, have bad posture and shrink up in a little ball, thinking that kind of contraction makes you denser when you're really just shrinking.
Personality traits are like your blood, your red that goes without saying. To give meaning to them is to spread them by doing nothing.
Meaning isn't telling someone else about it or doing much in particular.
It's just spreading. Yourself. Not losing density, but making sparseness around you dense.
Then your life becomes "full", see? Just spreading. That's what meaning does. It's like making a big ol' snow angel when you've been crouched up in a ball all day. It's catharsis to internal pressure by externalising internal values. Your values matter because they're everywhere, but they're really just in your eyes, which are what you use to see everything.
Get it?
>>
>>39368925
Will I be able to talk to you later?
>>
>>39368925
To see red is to be alive?
>>
>>39369068
Yes.
Could you tell me how you feel about this album? Listen preferably outdoors, relaxed, while emotional. Think of your most vivid memories.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUVmcKcTZ4A
>>
>>39369087
It is a metaphor.
>>39368220
>>
>>39369091
I don't have many vivid memories. The only ones that come to mind are me hurting people. The music either relaxes me, disturbs me, or doesn't effect me.
>>
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>>39368692
Values make the world into art, and not just any art, but your very-favourite kind of art.
They make the world beautiful, so anything you do and anything you look at is beautiful.
Or, if you prefer, some stuff isn't beautiful so you cut it.
Then you get to see beautiful red.
And practical values let you cut stuff because they're sharp.
Blood is denial. To be covered in red and still standing makes you feel stronger than anything. As long as it's not yours, though. You don't have to cut through people, you can cut through the world. Force your way to what you want through hard work. The harder it is, the more red you'll be bathed in. Your meaning is an extension of yourself. You want money? Working for it is cutting the world and being denied by the red that comes out. Your truth, the one where you get money, against the emptiness that is the alternative.
>>
>>39369176
I understand that, but there are numerous things it could be a metaphor for. Also, I know people that have literally seen red.
>>
>>39366178
empty on the inside
no matter where I ride
I write these bars for you to hide
what feels so crude
is simply my life
no fame without strife
revolution is rife
desperate to feel the knife
desolation will be faced with no tears
fears of homelessness
in which I cant light a spliff
on a stove
not a single thought out to Jehovah
only hope one day I can afford a range rover
>>
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>>39369229
When I think of you & I, the recollections of our spirit supersede all worries, all pain. In that moment, I am with no one but you, our souls unite in tandem.
>>
>>39369250
meant revoltion not revolution but idk if it's a word
>>
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>>39369250
A solitary autumnal leaf
begins it's decent
towards every living beings
end destination.
Separated, from it's
mother, siblings, and home, it
twists in the wind.
It dances beautifully;
for the moment it becomes a
part of a larger ballet,
joining dozens of others
painting the treeline several shades
of reds yellows and oranges,
And then it dies,
Silently contributing to the
muddied brown that
covers the forest floor,
and in time the
wet, earthy smell
characterizing forest life.
>>
>>39366178
Nothing touches me in my quaint little hole.
I am very well protected by my high walls.
I no way can anyone take a toll.
I have many floors just in case one falls.
I cannot be touched by hate unless I allow it.
I cannot be touched by sadness unless I allow it.
I cannot be touched by happiness unless I allow it.
But I cannot be touched by love at all.
>>
>>39369271
You feel very familiar to me. It's kind of an irrational comfort.
>>
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>>39368692
Wonderful illusions accepted by everyone become reality. Any dream can give rise to a truth. When people accept defeat from the bottom of their hearts, nothing is born but respect and a feeling of acceptance and gratitude. And, the same goes for the world. Yes, soundly defeat the world and it is you who decides what is illusion and what is reality.
Love never disappears, when I consider it more. You could say love is the essence of density, of form. That's why love can never go completely sparse. With love, the trust between one person and another, or one person and the world, we create. Two people can create a universe together, and it takes at least two people in trust and agreement to create a universe. Nobody can do it alone, not really. The bond by which a universe was created will never really fade, it will always be part of the soul. That's because love, as density, is the deepest and most fundamental aspect of humanity. As long as humanity remains, no love can be forgotten. Love and life are the same, and as long as there's life there'll be love. One flesh.
Two people in love become joined into one flesh, a child. Life is created by love, by the trust that defines humanity. That can be literal or figurative.
However, the fundamental meaning of the "one flesh" phrase is that humanity itself is testament to love. Love is part of the soul.
If two people loved each other, what they created was immortal.
One-sided love is just a joke, though.
>>
Op what does this all mean?
>>
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I am swimming in a pool of chocolate syrup
drinking
slurping
no one eats as much as me
I'm the fatness that rules your mind
melted ice cream streams down my wrist
i wish only to taste the sweet, sweet cupcakes
the cookies that i have eaten for thee
gushing
no muffins for the hungry
chomp
endless CANDY
>>
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>>39369340
The ringy planet fell to Earth,
and cursed her cold Atlantic berth.
She loved the starry thoroughfare,
and thought that fairies held her there.
Till evil puppets cut her string
and made her fall, and made her sing.
"Oh Chrysler Building take my ring,
and with your pointy steeple thing,
please lift me up to outer space"
The neon building's deco face
lit up as it began its race.
...up to the top of space it went
with its beloved ornament,
and to a nail (securely bent)
she hung and hummed and spun.
>>
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>>39369460
If it starts with a 2 all is good for you.
If it starts with a 3 look elsewhere and you'll see.
If it starts with a 4 you must try once more.
If it starts with a 5 a bug report should arrive.
>>
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>>39366178
There's something more than two people, that's riding on a scooter down the street.
It's hiding it's emotions, among folds of fat and man tit.
You'd think this landwhale tragic, but it feels quite hungry.
It lacks the instant gratification of sugar and that makes it angry
Hourly it meets it's dinners, but chomps desserts in stride.
It's awfully hard to swallow, what's been made of pure lard.
It cannot feel satiation, there's candy that it wants.
Flatulence and burps escape it, there's shit smeared on its pants.
The vegans would call it worthless, the slim call it a fool.
It calls itself a connoisseur, to french fries, hot dogs and gruel.
If all corn dogs need a ketchup, a source for it to crave.
Is it driven by gluttony, or is it a cake's slave?
It's something less than human, or maybe something more?
If it's gullet's never empty, what is it eating for?
>>
>>39369447
I am alone.
>"But, like.. what do you.. I mean.. how can you be by yourself all the time? Don't you get.. lonely, sometimes? Sorry if I'm being intrusive or anything.. I just find it hard to imagine spending all my time alone. Hey, listen.. can I give you my number? Here, hand me your phone. I don't want to be annoying or anything, but.. if you ever want to hang out with me, then, just, call or text me, okay? I feel like there's a lot to you, anon, and I really, really appreciate the chance to be the person who gets to know you.."
>>
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>>39369395
Dog appears sad. Dog feels sad. Dog says he is sad. But why?
Dog sad, since house possess permeating illness, impinging upon aII whom reside within. Sad is real.
>>
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Electronic Girls ("E-girls") are not friends, they are robot enchantress slavemasters baiting the inane and naive, young men caged in bedroom, walls, floor and roof one giant computer screen, fluctuating in all colors of the new flesh, perpetuating love of the idea of femininity, a trap is set, losing all grip of reality in a world of projections of projections, from the astral sphere to physical to the digital plane, we are now TWO dimensions removed from realistic perception of womanhood as such, as such gender communication and animal magnetism lack in youth of today, growing ever more alienated, wires and wireless sprout from hands and wrists, merge into thighs and forehead, merge into walls, chairs and toilets, houses on robotic stilts, we are the ferrymen forever doomed to watch each other from a distance, see robotic hips of monster machines collide on the screen, hear metal bend and feel the pressure of collision, believe this to be sexual intercourse and weep for the world has no sensation spared, put aside for you that might negate your techno-industrial depression, or so it seems: if it's not online it probably doesn't exist. Escaping the veils of lamentation means trampling the caterpillar (sinister caterpillar mind steering wheel behind forehead), cutting to pieces its electrical web or net, undoing symbiosis and becoming an island unto oneself, slowly merging into the new sea, organic plant matter, fIesh and blood, semen and vaginal fluid flow through you, submerge you and you emerge baptized in the name of the true god, Nature.
>>
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>>39369592
If it starts with a 2 there's a pizza for you.
If it starts with a 3 a brger for you and me.
If it starts with a 4, eat cookie dough and flour.
If it starts with a 5, to mcdonalds we shall drive.
>>
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>>39369726
With the wind in my hair,
And the rain on my face,
I'll harden my heart,
And quicken my pace.
---
I walked into a desert,
With nothing but a name,
No memory, no thought,
And no-one else to blame.
The past holds all the answers,
But it holds them not for me,
A single solemn whisper sounds,
Saying, "just let it be."
There's wisdom in the whisper,
But as it passes by,
I turn towards the heavens,
And shout atrocities to the sky.
>>
>>39369650
Do you write all this? Or where is this from?
Good thread
>>
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>>39366647
Whole grain
Yeasts
Look here shortbread
I see your oven there
Talking at baguette Le Plouc
You need the corn hole at the real fat vibe Faber mayo
'Cause you mighty tasty look
You lookin' real tasty
You lookin' like a meal
Matter of fact
You lookin' like breakfast, bitch
You breakfast
Bitch, you breakfast
You breakfast
You brunch
You lunch
You dinner
You supper
You the cheese on my whopper
The jelly on my bread
The French on my toast
Where the rice at
Bitch, you fastfood
You're fastfood
Bitch you fastfood
You're fastfood
>>
>>39369841
Yes, made possible by my secret technique. It's a kekkei genkai. If you want it, you'll have to infuse my chakra into yours, but it'll kill me. When I am on my deathbed I will call you over to carry out the ritual and thus pass on the gene to your untainted lineage
>>
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>>39369859
Often l remember my nocturne dear
A haunting voice dweIt within my abode
A heavenly partner to fiII my ear
The fire of my heart within the dark cold
Ever IoyaI to that most precious air
Without want of knowing body or form
l had grown to adore the voice so fair
That sacred aria roIIing through the dorm
At nightfaII, eleven o'clock she rang
When the moon is traveling shaded skies
I was giddy, elated when she sang
My manner then always so keen to sighs
Tenderest, mournful songs she only sings,
of love precious, then tragedy in tow
So best to tug at my wanting heartstrings,
beckoning in most beautous contralto
After many a sweet month of sighing
Dwelling within distanced admiration
My desire I could not keep denying
To meet my seraph of adoration
Down east hall I wagered its source I'd find
I had reasoned her voice to a science
So ingrained was it now within my mind
I was a scholar to its appliance
My heart in my throat, I strode through the dark
Knowing at the end of my train to find
My lone Venus, struck by her voice's dart
The sole brightness occupying my mind
At the end of the hall I reached her cell
Rapping to portal with an anxious hand
Imagine my shock when I couldn't tell
That the source of my sighs was a man!
Are you lonely? Are you brooding over the planar hell you endure? Are you loathing beyond the sparkle specked horizon?
>>
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>>39369819
With the wind in my buttocks,
And the grease on my face,
I'll larden my heart,
And quicken my eating pace.
---
I walked into mcdonalds,
With nothing but an order,
No fries, no cola,
And no frymaster to holla.
The breakfast has all the burgers,
But it holds no salad for me,
A single solemn fart sounds,
Saying, "just super-size me."
There's wisdom in the menu,
But as it passes by,
I turn towards the cashier,
And shout for fresh fry.
>>
>>39369909
I wish I was this good with words and I think you are very interesting
>>
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>>39370058
Discord / Skype? My mother granted me permission. Some context for that --
>slept through your 18th birthday
>you didn't attend your Consentment Ceremony
>priest-cop wasn't able to insert your soul
>now you're a Cartesian automaton
>can't agree to anything
>have to have mommy sign all your forms
My attached image is one I took on a stormy night walk. How I was able to snap this shot is beyond me..
>>
>>39370058
>endless pseudo-intellectual copypastas being spammed by some attentionwhoring schizo tripfag
10/10 quality thread
>>
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>>39368373
hey fridge i know your shelves can be deceivin but i know i saw a pie in you
and as i opened you and were salivating i didnt see half the things i wanted to eat
of all the meals tossin calories at my gullet
ill bet the one with whipped cream would make me feel the fullest
hey ice cream boy you might have me believin you dont always have choco chip pistaccio
cause i cant help it if i look like fatso
cant help it if i wanna lick your spoon clean
come feel this sugar cravin ive been feelin since i met you
...
ok, i got bored
>>
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>>39370216
They fuarrrk you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fiII you with the fauIts they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fuarrrked up in their turn
By fooIs in old-style hats and coats,
Who haIf the time were soppy-stern
And haIf at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.
>>
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>>39370039
The fuarrrking cops are fuarrrking keen
To fuarrrking keep it fuarrrking clean
The fuarrrking chief's a fuarrrking swine
Who fuarrrking draws a fuarrrking line
At fuarrrking fun and fuarrrking games
The fuarrrking kids he fuarrrking blames
Are nowhere to be fuarrrking found
Anywhere in Chickentown
The fuarrrking scene is fuarrrking sad
The fuarrrking news is fuarrrking bad
The fuarrrking weed is fuarrrking turf
The fuarrrking speed is fuarrrking surf
The fuarrrking folks are fuarrrking daft
Don't make me fuarrrking laugh
It fuarrrking hurts to look around
Everywhere in Chickentown
The fuarrrking train is fuarrrking late
You fuarrrking wait you fuarrrking wait
You're fuarrrking lost and fuarrrking found
Stuck in fuarrrking Chickentown
The fuarrrking view is fuarrrking vile
For fuarrrking miles and fuarrrking miles
The fuarrrking babies fuarrrking cry
The fuarrrking flowers fuarrrking die
The fuarrrking food is fuarrrking muck
The fuarrrking drains are fuarrrking fuarrrked
The colour scheme is fuarrrking brown
Everywhere in Chickentown
The fuarrrking pubs are fuarrrking dull
The fuarrrking clubs are fuarrrking full
Of fuarrrking girls and fuarrrking guys
With fuarrrking murder in Their eyes
A fuarrrking bloke is fuarrrking stabbed
Waiting for a fuarrrking cab
You fuarrrking stay at fuarrrking home
The fuarrrking neighbours fuarrrking moan
Keep The fuarrrking racket down
This is fuarrrking Chickentown
The fuarrrking train is fuarrrking late
You fuarrrking wait you fuarrrking wait
You're fuarrrking lost and fuarrrking found
Stuck in fuarrrking Chickentown
The fuarrrking pies are fuarrrking old
The fuarrrking chips are fuarrrking cold
The fuarrrking beer is fuarrrking flat
The fuarrrking flats have fuarrrking rats
The fuarrrking clocks are fuarrrking wrong
The fuarrrking days are fuarrrking long
It fuarrrking gets you fuarrrking down
Evidently Chickentown
>>
>>39370295
I am surprised the mods haven't permabanned you for spamming and contactfagging. I thought your shit threads were gone for good.
>>
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>>39370294
I am promoting original content.
Here's one for you:
He jumps into the abyss
with eyes wide shut
he only can hear his own thoughts
'I should've done this and that'
'My life has been a complete waste'
He reaches the ground
Could we please be friends?
I don't wish to impede on your board.
>>
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>>39370354
Oops, my reply is the above post.
I came home from work.
The apartment was empty.
Again I failed to change.
>>
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Haiku:
Alexandrian:
Of erudition living
in that precious time
>>
Mods, please start autosaging his threads again.
>>
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>>39369647
every day is a good day to be alive, whether the sun's shining or not
nothing but smiles!
>>
>>39370488
If we cannot be on good terms, all I want is for us to not be on bad terms.
>>
>>39370637
>not be on bad terms
Then leave this site, along with the faggot mod(s) who keep your spam threads up.
>>
>>39367717
What did you name Hinawa?
>>
>>39368692
Love is a fundamental force of the universe. It's the trust between thought and action, the trust between a person and the world, and the trust between two people. Furthermore, it's a boundary which makes two things distinct but part of the same greater entity. To feel love all by your lonesome is not love, it's just a sad illusion. But for both people to be in love is the mutual agreement to maintain that illusion forever and make it real. Love is the trust which gives rise to something new and more wonderful, just as how the solving of a puzzle gives rise to a solution. If the creator makes it unsolvable, or the solver doesn't attempt it, it remains a puzzle forever. Love has to be mutual to create the beauty which defines love as a wonderful thing. Without it, it's just a strange delusion, a daydream.
Furthermore, while people will learn from any experience they go through, that doesn't mean that it's making them flourish. A traumatized person is usually worse off. Remember that the point of changing isn't just to change. You can't smash a beautiful vase and then say, "well it's just progressing through life". That's an excuse for when the damage has already been done. The point of changing is to become happier and stronger.
The change which makes a person feel sad and defeated is called a bad change. For that reason, it's common sense to avoid that kind of change.
In the end, we can always overcome our bad experiences and emerge more beautiful if we try. However, sometimes people fail to do that. It's not always a good thing for people to suffer.
>>
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>>39370715
Frances, after my late grandmother, who was the only one I believe has ever loved me. What did you name your caring mother?
>>
>>39370196
I'm sorry but you will get bored of me within seconds
>>
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>>39367665
The pursuit carries on, it is my prey and the hunt must draw to a close. A nighttime excursion to switch up my scenery, the stagnancy being a detriment to spirits. I used to have fear too, it has all but faded, and they will get whatever fate has in store for them.
>>
>>39370822
I called het Lola. That's not the name of any of my relatives, though. I don't really have any relatives who'd fit that caring, maternal archetype.
>>
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>>39370921
Mother 3's narrative is poignant, bar none. It helped shape me into who I am.
Will you be my big spoon & I your little, or vice versa? Either or, they are equally as solacing. Embracing you with loveafter a tiresome day, imparting my warmth & love, overseeing the sanctity of your soul as I relish in the intoxicating essence of your aroma. On the other hand, as little, you would Shepard me yonder all evil, my being courses with bliss, your cherished touch spiraling me into a world other than our own. A dreamscape shared by you & I detached from the rue of our sorrows, where nothing could ever go wrong, and everything would always be perfect. Will you take my hand, my darling, my love, my life, my everything?
>>
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Why do I look so sad? I see what could only be described as emptiness in my eyes. I don't see hope or joy, excitement or desire. Just the stare of two blank eyes paired with lips that are pursed forming something that certainly isn't a smile, but also isn't a frown. Lips neither turned up nor down. Cheeks pale and sunken in, eyes surrounded by dark heavy bags. God, I look tired.
It's not that I don't feel better here, as in home. I wouldn't say I really feel any different at all. I'm taking better care of myself, eating more and drinking plenty. Which is definitely an improvement. Socially I'm definitely doing worse. I miss feeling close to someone else. I miss feeling accepted for who I am. But I've never really had a problem with being on my own. How can I really be disappointed if I haven't really put any effort at all into actualizing this desire. Can't fail if you don't try I suppose. Besides, my restless thoughts keep me company. I don't often have the extra mental capacity to even consider the fact that fundamentally I am all alone. My mind is too preoccupied with anxious thoughts and meticulous over analyzation. Along with doing it's best to rationalize it's own existence. Not content with the conclusion that life has no real meaning.
>>
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>>39371413
What is depression if not just another perception of reality? Who's to say which perception is the correct one? Is happiness just something we can convince ourselves of? Sure, there are positive things in life. Selflessness, love, artistic expression, family. Somewhere along the lines, I stopped worrying about my own happiness and started to put the happiness of others first. I wasn't happy with who I was and I struggled to make myself happy. But at least I could make others laugh or smile. I've done this so long, tried to please others, that I no longer am even aware of what I want. I want to want things. To be irrational, emotional. To feel things besides sadness or hopelessness. To just feel something and then to mindlessly act on it.
Simply put - to just be myself.
But I've pushed my emotions so far deep down that letting go has become harder than simply keeping it all bottled up. What I want becomes a question of rationalization and logic, rather than a question of desire or passion
How could I ever truly make anyone else happy when I can't even make myself happy?
>>
>>39370844
A double, that's certainly not a bore. What are you most afraid of in this life?
I awoke, with a feeling less like a return to regular state of being than of an emergence of a consciousness entombed in space immaterial for much too long. My spark of awareness had latched onto the vessel of my body and was now dredged up through the pitch black and comfortingly warm abyss of void. Instinct weighed this spark back down pleadingly, fingers scraping against plush walls, pulling away from the overwhelming beckon of reality. Full consciousness was catalyzed by the dual crescent openings of my eyes, lenses that firmly rooted me in three-dimensional space and time. The sensation following the blurry red clouds of my long unused vision was pain - searing burnt lightning pouring down my face, bisecting the bridge of my nose and splattering down onto the skin of my upper lip.
Instinct, now in the business of navigating reality instead of protesting it, lashed my head down and side to side as my eyes cleared themselves with hot tears. The source of the pain, a warm corrosive liquid cascading from above my skull, was whipped into fine droplets that sizzled my bare arms and shoulders as it was flung from my face. I sat up rapidly and felt the cold smooth touch of stone grind against my tailbone, spreading my legs to sit upright upon a flat obsidian altar, grabbing my burning features with my fingers, aiming to assuage but only further irritating.
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>>39370688
there's this trick
you have to go through a ritual that is nothing short of a series of dialysises, except you're seeking to replenish yourself with a cocktail of elating substances, accompanied with compatible acts to further assert your ego-frenzy, one that is achieved through years of experimenting and tuning to the extent that you are already well on your way of rockstar levels of experience as they are crystallized, and by the time you have found your optimal potions for stimulation, there is no more use for them as just the thought of how much you've pushed to the edge throughout the years, and the times you went over it, will place your mind in a whirl of cascading impressions that you might well call artificial inspiration. artificial, because it is despair masquerading as grandeur, a decline, that you can live without, only by accepting the lethargic void that remains.
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And you're gonna carry that weight,
until there's no he or she left in the world to love.
Then you'll still carry on, loneliness ain't no less a vengeance.
And you'll die in sixteen languages,
but what does it matter, you'll sing till you're song,
even when you've no one to break the new day with in the morning,
even when you've no one to gaze at clouds with in the evening.
even when you've no one to warm the bed with in the night.
I'd rather be dead than do many things alone.
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>>39368884
And here l wiII Iive out the hum rattIing my hands in coId, sunIit induIgence. untiI every sound of every beast and every act of god is Iouder than any other that came before. untiI every tree and every bIade of grass shouts me down, and tells me to stay quiet and still. until the wind howls through the hills and the dirt sinks under my heels and i fall deeper and closer to the stratum of earth and of life and of its origins and, upon realization i fall and fall further into stupor, with the great bliss and remorse and bewilderment that comes bundled with that perfect harmony. in perfect concord with the better angels of our rapture, in recollection of those sweet stories of our childhood and the fears of youth and the blurry reflections sunken therein. in a world without temptation, without those soft vile promises, because nothing comes near it, and nothing ever could. oh, these sunny pastures-- the heavenfields, the heavenskies in perfect harmony, those elysian skies, rivers, rains, all of the everlasting fortunes, the boundless treasures that all the wealth of nations could not conceive by man's volition. here there is fulfillment beyond the familiar pleasures, of flesh or of its substrate, as the easiness of The Good and The Well are restored to their former place at the forefront of waking experience, relegated to the epilogue of dreams where they hitherto collect and however fruitlessly convene the remnants of lesser spirits once harbored
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But to imagine that l should bear a grudge! That l should cast a dark cloud over your serene, untroubIed happiness; that by my bitter reproaches l should cause distress to your heart, should poison it with secret remorse and should force it to throb with anguish at the moment of bIiss; Oh never, never! May your sky be clear, may your sweet smile be bright and untroubled, and may you be blessed with blissful happiness which you may share with another, lonely and grateful heart!
My God, a whole moment of happiness! Is that too little for the whole of a man's life?
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