Narcissism, of course the mountain isn't green
Simple minded midgets wander mostly aimlessly
Clothes for me to wear conceal a favored fellow friend..
drugs to take seem so fake...swallowed pill once again... ______________________________

With my hands, I reach around and grab her bulbous chest
fingers rip within and tear away her silky flesh.....blah

-- pseudo (anti@disestablishment.arianism), February 18, 2002

Answers

The way in which I wish I could, I just can not expain..
this life I live has proved to be just another game.....
Gothic designs are all so slow..
happiness has told me so..
I can't cry
neither can I....what is the point of shame..

-- pseudo (anti@disestablishment.arianism), February 19, 2002.

and after death..among the few
restless souls who have followed you...
you come across a new blue earth..
with trees to grow and life to birth

and watch as many seem to do as if they all were gods
pointing out this and that as if it were their jobs

"this new light shines rather dull"
you think as all move on
and wonder whether anything is different far beyond....

-- pseudo (anti@disestablishment.arianism), February 20, 2002.

the point of shame is intelligence.
no-one can prove why they pense
they only know what's in their heart's
until their meager thought parts.
Why they keep up with the scharade
I do not think it'll ever fade.
they do not think about what's inside
they only see thier missing pride
weather they know what they shall do
They'll keep on going with-out a clue
so thus it ends this meaningless life
Cut away by a knife
there you stand stupified
Rising fear but never cried
cause when you do you know you fail
Your lonely sole shall slowly sail
into your future into your past
leaving your sins for very last
never knowing what's to come
you'll always wait for those few some.

-- Steavo (Pennywise_balloon@hotmail.com), February 20, 2002.

a yellow bird

a yellow bill

flew upon

my window sill

I lured him in

with a piece of bread

then I smashed

his fu**ing head

thank you thank you

-- Guml'r Foecrusher (ahnklspanker@shit.net), September 14, 2002.

As I sit here muddled into painstakenly ravaged dishevelment, I think of souls distraught with beckoned paralysis.

Twisted descriptions manifested by twisted souls, who seek, through simple activity of the keys, temperance of time and anguish brought unto themselves by celestial mismanagement, and I drift deeply, into depths unknown, to join.

-- Guml'r Foecrusher (ahnklspanker@shit.net), September 14, 2002.