Monkey.

Send them in. Send in the army of headless reptilian parasites. Allow them to suck the life out of every colorful entity within the room. Allow them to reap personal benefits in storms of egocentric winds off every fabric of life that breathes inside. Watch them strangle anything green and anything that grew from seeds. Witness the destruction of the psychedelically infused walls that keep the room linear, and shiver as the cold wind blows in from outside. Send them in right now. With scarred hands and eviscerated livers, they will smile coldly when they see it all falling down in front of their own lifeless eyes, and they will cackle with malicious glee when millions of generations of thoughts, images and words will all condense into a clot of nothingness.

But a TV screen shimmers outside their line of sight, but within the same room. It is now playing a slow, sad melancholy tune; a tune that cries of lost love. Something the creatures within the room will never be able to comprehend. They are unaware, as they stand in a circle, with their hunched backs, laughing away at the sight of nothingness around them - the reality of chaos. They are unaware as their backs are turned away from the television that is about to explode into a million little pieces.

A deafening explosion, and a whole ten minute bout of silence later, all that is left in the room is chaos.

Chaos creating chaos creating chaos.




The passage above is an analogy of the simplest truth that mankind always knew and will know till the day it call comes to a gracious end. Well, gracious in terms of the sheer magnitude of chaos that is bound to ensue.
Chaos that leads to chaos. Which leads to chaos, which leads to...chaos.


It is a rather bizarre analogy, but you get the point.

Interstellar Overdrive.

Meet me at the equinox and sing me a lullaby. Put me to sleep at the inner edge of outer space where I can just crawl into a fetal position and watch as the black holes reveal their secrets to me in full blown technicolor. Give me a stringed instrument painted in black that blends with the interstellar darkness, that I can strum as I feel the breeze from a beach that I conjured up with my imagination, blow over my face, smoothening my wrinkles. Take me to your leader, and help me help him with helping me to rise up into cosmic ecstasy, beyond where the sand can dampen my hopes, beyond and above to where only my infancy has let me go to. Drive me somewhere infinitely awe inspiring, where the sheer beauty of the cosmic magnificence around me would overwhelm me so much, I'd be left reeling for eons to come. Triumph over me as I drown in my self loathing verses, pushing myself to a personal breaking point. As a wise old man once said impulsively, it's always beyond your abilities to watch nebulas bloom as the winds of astral knowledge weigh your eyelids down; it is as impossible to achieve as to divulge in your own deep thoughts, unpertrubed by interfering obstacles that would otherwise condemn the pleasant breeze to a harsh blizzard. Just let me feel the warmth for once. Liberate me from this madness.

Thank you for listening.