Too much Jesus Juice
Want to buy a vowel?
Luke: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
School approaches. I sense great amounts of work. There will be no escape. You can run but you cannot hide. You can cover your face but the fists of Reality will hit you still.
And so it comes. The final days, drawing near. Everything that were buried comes to live again. The time will come when I live only for the weekends. Again.
So it had been. So it will be again. History has an uncanny knack of repeating itself. Never exactly the same, to be sure, but you can definitely tell someone out there has a fetish for the "Replay" button.
Time moves on, with or without me. I type this tonight, trying to drag time with me. Trying to slow things down so that I won't see tomorrow until I'm ready. But I can never ready! Something always needs to be done. Something always needs to be prepared. Something.
Time slows when you do nothing. Or so you'd think. Years of propaganda have paid off. Now I tell you that no matter what you do, time never slows, and never reverses. You can throw a tantrum, watch paint dry, go hunting with Dick Cheney, watch water boil, but you can never force now to be now again.
Time is merciless. He kills what he kills.
Time killed my joy.
His minions, the dreaded clocks, are no less cold-blooded. Whilst dreaming my beautiful dreams, whilst sleeping my peaceful sleep, they push me unceremoniously back to the most terrifying facet of life: Reality.
Their force is unstoppable, not because it is strong, but because I know I cannot, I should not, stop it. I have no choice, but to face Reality in all its naked glory, fangs and all.
There is no alternative. Time has me firmly in his claws. His demonic features, twisted beyond redemption, are filled with sadistic glee as he shoves me forward to face what is deemed my future. He knows I want to stay right here and now, and there is not a thing that I can do to stop him.
There is no hopes of salvation in me to dash. I know there's nothing that can save me from its unbreakable grasp. All I can do is to surrender to his unceasing efforts, and brace myself for the impact.
A fatalistic approach to Time.
School approaches. I sense great amounts of work. There will be no escape. You can run but you cannot hide. You can cover your face but the fists of Reality will hit you still.
And so it comes. The final days, drawing near. Everything that were buried comes to live again. The time will come when I live only for the weekends. Again.
So it had been. So it will be again. History has an uncanny knack of repeating itself. Never exactly the same, to be sure, but you can definitely tell someone out there has a fetish for the "Replay" button.
Time moves on, with or without me. I type this tonight, trying to drag time with me. Trying to slow things down so that I won't see tomorrow until I'm ready. But I can never ready! Something always needs to be done. Something always needs to be prepared. Something.
Time slows when you do nothing. Or so you'd think. Years of propaganda have paid off. Now I tell you that no matter what you do, time never slows, and never reverses. You can throw a tantrum, watch paint dry, go hunting with Dick Cheney, watch water boil, but you can never force now to be now again.
Time is merciless. He kills what he kills.
Time killed my joy.
His minions, the dreaded clocks, are no less cold-blooded. Whilst dreaming my beautiful dreams, whilst sleeping my peaceful sleep, they push me unceremoniously back to the most terrifying facet of life: Reality.
Their force is unstoppable, not because it is strong, but because I know I cannot, I should not, stop it. I have no choice, but to face Reality in all its naked glory, fangs and all.
There is no alternative. Time has me firmly in his claws. His demonic features, twisted beyond redemption, are filled with sadistic glee as he shoves me forward to face what is deemed my future. He knows I want to stay right here and now, and there is not a thing that I can do to stop him.
There is no hopes of salvation in me to dash. I know there's nothing that can save me from its unbreakable grasp. All I can do is to surrender to his unceasing efforts, and brace myself for the impact.
A fatalistic approach to Time.
No comments:
Post a Comment