Subscribe: fiberglass symphony for a dystopian wasteland.
http://pasquinade.deadjournal.com/data/rss
Added By: Feedage Forager Feedage Grade B rated
Language: English
Tags:
back  bill  car  clinic  didn  don  driving  freedom  great  hst  laughs hst  long  mapiras  new  night  people  save  time  truth 
Rate this Feed
Rate this feedRate this feedRate this feedRate this feedRate this feed
Rate this feed 1 starRate this feed 2 starRate this feed 3 starRate this feed 4 starRate this feed 5 star

Comments (0)

Feed Details and Statistics Feed Statistics
Preview: fiberglass symphony for a dystopian wasteland.

fiberglass symphony for a dystopian wasteland.



fiberglass symphony for a dystopian wasteland. - DeadJournal.com



Last Build Date: Sat, 05 Nov 2005 08:23:09 GMT

 



picnic on a frozen river

Sat, 05 Nov 2005 08:23:09 GMT

i told him i wanted romance and he said "i think this is pretty romantic." that was the first time he kissed me. post-heroin shot in a car with spiritualized's "ladies and gentlemen we are floating in space" playing on the stereo. he'd been up for about a week and i was approaching 48 hours. methamphetamineangels living a twilight fantasy.

two weeks later it's strapped to a hospital bed with an iv in the neck. was it paranoid psychosis or extreme depression.. they always ask why why why did you do it.. maybe i just wanted to sleep for a long time.. maybe it's because i'm sick of answering stupid questions like YOURS.

and a few days after discharging from the hospital it's over, when it's him with a 16 year old virgin who won't put out and a mountain of ludicrous lies. 16 years old.. that's a 10-year difference, hello statutory rape [if only she'd put out]. is it a childish determination to break the law in every conceivable way and as many simultaneously as possible? what's so great about virgin pussy anyway? everyone knows that virgins don't know how to fuck. i don't even care about the cheating. don't insult my intelligence.

i dropped my friend off last night after a game of pool and a guitar session at the beach. he lives next door to the ex. as i was dropping him off, the ex came out and stood in front of his house like he was waiting for me to drive up to him and chat, but i hit the gas and sped past him without even a glance. i wasn't in the mood for any more lies. not last night, not ever.

it pisses me off that the adicts' "angel" always reminds me of him every time i hear it. i hate when lousy people ruin a good song like that.



leukemia schizophrenia polyethylene

Sat, 05 Nov 2005 08:15:07 GMT

imadethis.



(image)



sleep it to the android.

Thu, 07 Jul 2005 08:02:56 GMT

new pictures, taken on the 4th of july. can you tell i'm losing too much weight? wondering if i keep shrinking if i can eventually disappear into the spaces betwixt the air and never be found again.

(image)


(image)



(image)

(image)

(image)

(image)

(image)

(image)

(image)




a delicate dissolution (disillusion)

Thu, 16 Jun 2005 10:18:13 GMT

default the asphalt idols of your sleep
a chance to keep dismantled sunsets restored
the way we all adored from planets three two one
through the heart of the sun and the fantasy's done
[the villains have won with their hands on the gun]
in deep sanguine crimson and celestial blue framed by
the radiance of only you, if i could crumble
so softly too, while the mesmerized crowds tumble
into plastic neon isolation, saluting a blank alien nation
with tears of paper rain (trapped in slick cellophane
at the final refrain) like dripping disdain
down the decadent drain into tall champagne glasses
for the vacant grey masses to toast their demise
(not even once recognized, analysed, or criticised)
how a lonely lifetime buys a noble forgotten death.



we are the pretty petty thieves and you're standing on our streets

Wed, 11 May 2005 05:58:26 GMT

it's a desolate fantasy for brokenhearted angels
[they fell and fell]
chanting holy holy at the gates of hell
a bittersweet prelude to elegant massacre
of everything that could never sell

the sun casts a white shadow over twilight's spell
where all the ruined lovers dwell
[my angel, my angel]
i created you out of letters and poems
so that i'd never be alone

we'll just say that all is well
[i'm not well, i'm not well]
and i promise that i'll never tell..



the children of marx and coca cola

Fri, 06 May 2005 22:23:36 GMT

3 a.m.
a desolate highway.
a full tank of gas.
the perfect music soundtrack.
a pack of cigarettes.
a bottle of pills.

sometimes i think if i keep on driving, keep on, over the edge.. i wonder how long i could fly before i fall..

"this is why people o.d. on pills and jump from the golden gate bridge.. anything to feel weightless again.."

i walked down to the beach and called my daniel doll to leave him a message of the waves crashing on the shore, because it was a sound he had not heard in a long time.



pictures of matchstick men

Fri, 06 May 2005 22:18:51 GMT

this has been a hell of a week..monday, after not getting any sleep for the second night in a row, i left for the methadone clinic at 5 in the morning, after spending the entire night on the phone devastating the one boy i truly want to be with.i arrive at the clinic around 5:25 a.m., and as i am parking on the side of the street, i get pulled over by a cop - well, i wouldn't necessarily call it getting pulled over since i was already over, it was more like the cop pulled up behind me with his lights on. it's the most awkward situation, you don't know whether to get out of the car or to roll down your window. afterall, you're at your destination.anyway, i decided to roll down my window.the cop walks up, shines the flashlight in my face and surveying the inside of my car, and tells me i was going 50mph in a 35mph zone.anyone who lives around here knows that this is ridiculously nitpicky, as EVERYONE drives 50+ down the street when the limit is generally 35.. in fact anyone who drives 35 gets honked at and passed.he also claims i did not signal when i made a u-turn in the left turn lane. i know he is lying; i always signal, it is a habit, a reflex. i signal at 3 in the morning in parking lots when nobody's around!so he asks me for my license, registration, insurance. i give it to him.he asks if i am on probation. i say no.he asks if i am on parole. no.have i ever been arrested? no.do i have any weapons or anything illegal in the car? no.what am i doing here at 5 in the morning? i replied "really, that's none of your business."this is when the cop gets seriously offended and goes apeshit, tells me to get out of the car and stand behind it, and to put my hands behind my back. so i flipped out asking him what the hell he thought he was doing, i did not do anything wrong and he was being out of line. he grabs my arms and yanks them behind my back and shoves me against the back of my car and gives me that whole "cooperation" speech, threatening to put handcuffs on me if i didn't. i told him calmly that i had not intended to be rude and that i had no reason not to cooperate and i hoped he would do the same.he relaxes, studies my huge cluster of keychains, and says, "i'm going to ask you one more time: are you on probation, parole, or have you ever been arrested?" exasperatedly i reply, "no, no, and NO."he didn't seem to believe me. he told me he was going to run my license, and if it came back clean, he would let me go with a warning. i nod, he goes to his squad car, and returns a minute later with my documents. "alright, i'm gonna let you go with a warning. just, erm, slow down, and, uh, have a nice day."so i walk to my car to put my papers back, lock it behind me, and walk towards the clinic. as i am walking i hear the cop behind me chuckle and mutter something like "oh, figures."when i get to the door of the clinic i look back. FOUR more squad cars had arrived!!!! one of them was pulled up alongside my car, and three were lined up behind his car. they were in the middle of the road, blocking the damn intersection!! it was quite a spectacle - all of them had lights flashing so the street was bright as noon. there was a female cop and a seargeant, and apparently, they had all come in anticipation of arresting little 80 lb. me!i was petrified of going back to my car. everyone at the clinic was so excited. i didn't dare look back at what was going on, so they gave me a play-by-play account. the army of cops stuck around for about 10 minutes, until they finally left, one by one.all this before 6 in the morning, before i had even gotten my dose!the next day, on my way back from the clinic, i ran out of gas on the highway. i usually stop for gas at this station near the clinic, since it is so much cheaper than every other damn place i've seen in all of orange county. right now it's at $2.39/gallon for 87 octane there! when i got gas in newport beach last night, i believe [...]



candy bars and burning cars: a countdown to the death of stars.

Fri, 22 Apr 2005 01:00:30 GMT

!!#}]]**!{{([[in meticulous shades of
                             camouflage:         :         :
~~~~~colour me into the si(lent) mi[rage]]]((<<
a day to impress the entourage**!!??$#{[([!?
*>>##!#?$$$**with glowing costumes for
       your visage///}()*!***#@{collapse the
#~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***fresh petals
                   >>>of<<<                   cellophane[
to brush out the dissonance of entropy's reign
           you                            tripped/back
theyearsoftriumphantdisdain)))!#@***{to
     dis(ma[nt]l)e the vacuous smirks of the vain//
;;;;;a facsimile of youofmeofwe
    disintegrates in to mes and we [you agree)?
        when assimilating the yousofthe mes in
facsimile                        [we]([[{
      <[((subvert all you see//so that youandme
                   ){[shall/{can} ((be only)))]
                                          free***($$]]!//...}



this is simply adorable.

Fri, 04 Mar 2005 19:34:24 GMT

Shotgun Golf with Bill MurrayBy Hunter S. ThompsonFebruary 15, 2005 [*his very last column]The death of professional hockey in AMERICA is a nasty omen for people with heavy investments in NHL teams. But to me, it meant little or nothing -- and that's why I called Bill Murray with an idea that would change both our lives forever.It was 3:30 on a dark Tuesday morning when I heard the phone ring on his personal line in New Jersey. "Good thinking," I said to myself as I fired up a thin Cohiba. "He's bound to be wide awake and crackling at this time of day, or at least I can leave a very excited message."My eerie hunch was right. The crazy bugger picked up on the fourth ring, and I felt my heart racing. "Hot damn!" I thought. "This is how empires are built." Late? I know not late.Genius round the world stands hand in hand, and one shock of recognition runs the whole circle round.Herman Melville said that in the winter of 1914, and Murray is keenly aware of it. Only a madman would call a legend of Bill Murray's stature at 3:33 a.m. for no good reason at all. It would be a career-ending move, and also profoundly rude.But my reason was better than good ...* * * * *BILL: "Hello?"HST: "Hi, Bill, it's Hunter."BILL: "Hi, Hunter."HST: "Are you ready for a powerful idea? I want to ask you about golf in Japan. I understand they're building vertical driving ranges on top of each other."BILL (sounding strangely alert): "Yes, they have them outdoors, under roofs ..."HST: "I've seen pictures. I thought they looked like bowling alleys stacked on top of each other."BILL: (Laughs.)HST: "I'm working on a profoundly goofy story here. It's wonderful. I've invented a new sport. It's called Shotgun Golf. We will rule the world with this thing."BILL: "Mmhmm."HST: "I've called you for some consulting advice on how to launch it. We've actually already launched it. Last spring, the Sheriff and I played a game outside in the yard here. He had my Ping Beryllium 9-iron, and I had his shotgun, and about 100 yards away, we had a linoleum green and a flag set up. He was pitching toward the green. And I was standing about 10 feet away from him, with the alley-sweeper. And my objective was to blow his ball off course, like a clay pigeon."BILL: (Laughs.)HST: "It didn't work at first. The birdshot I was using was too small. But double-aught buck finally worked for sure. And it was fun."BILL: (Chuckles.)HST: "OK, I didn't want to wake you up, but I knew you'd want to be in on the ground floor of this thing."BILL: (Silence.)HST: "Do you want to discuss this tomorrow?"BILL: "Sure."HST: "Excellent."BILL: "I think I might have a queer dream about it now, but ..." (Laughs.)HST: "This sport has a HUGE future. Golf in America will soon come to this."BILL: "It will bring a whole new meaning to the words 'Driving Range'."HST: "Especially when you stack them on top of each other. I've seen it in Japan."BILL: "They definitely have multi-level driving ranges. Yes."HST: (Laughs.) "How does that work? Do they have extremely high ceilings?"BILL: "No. The roof above your tee only projects out about 10 feet, and they have another range right above you. It's like they took the façade off a building. People would be hanging out of their offices."HST: "I see. It's like one of those original Hyatt Regency Hotels. Like an atrium. In the middle of the building you could jump straight down into the lobby?"BILL: "Exactly like that!"HST: "It's like people driving balls from one balcony to the next."BILL: (Laughs.) "Yes, they could."HST: "I could be on the eighth floor and you on the sixth? Or on the fifteenth. And we'd be driving across a lake."BILL: "They have flags out every 150 yards, every 200 yards, every 250 yards. It's just whether you are hitting it at ground level, or from five stories up."HST: "I want to find out more about this. This definitely has a future to [...]



i don't need power when i'm hypnotized

Wed, 02 Mar 2005 14:47:52 GMT

it wasn't a case of rejected distaste
when the melodies sung were discarded as waste
well the fools are still bumbling in raucous parade
as calamity sunset devours the charade.

the lavender sonnets of poets' demise
imprisoned beneath the dark veil of your eyes
have dispersed into mayhem's dramatic surprise
to welcome the dawn of our empire's rise.

it's twilight for dreamers who live in their heads;
now all of our brilliant heroes are dead
and your face was the colour of a blue blue sky
as you tore down the curtains "goodbye, goodbye."



all our heroes are dead.

Wed, 23 Feb 2005 15:44:56 GMT

doctor gonzo is dead. dr. thompson. doctor of gonzo journalism.

in my opinion, i believed hunter s. thompson to be the last remaining hero: avenger of karma, defender of truth and radicalism. relentless and brilliant, but unfortunately turned into a cartoon character by all those who worshipped him based on their crude misunderstanding of him and his work. there are many great men who have made significant contributions to this society; however, their ideas soon become outdated and irrelevant as the times change and a new paradigm is needed.

once in awhile, we are blessed with a truly remarkable pioneer: someone who explores untamed new [even forbidden] territory, tears it apart, strings it on a necklace to proudly wear around his neck, and carves his insignia into the soil for all settlers yet to come to behold. his ideas are universal: truth, freedom, and justice never go out of date or out of style. these pioneers were fiercely independent, tenaciously cynical, brutally realistic, and sometimes even paranoid; however, they had an infectious idealism resonating with an unmistakable love for life and humanity that always reigned supreme.

all the exceptionally great pioneers throughout history had an unrelenting quest for truth, no matter how dirty, brutal, and foul it was. they rigorously emphasized freedom and fought ferociously and valiantly against political and social injustice in every form. their desire for truth, freedom, and justice was voracious and insatiable. this idealistic crusade plagued them: it was their reason for living and usually their demise. they had to live with the constant frustration of their realistically attainable ideas continuously being ignored, shot down, or misconstrued by an increasingly insipid, complacent, and undeserving public. they were timeless, yet ahead of their time and an unmistakable product of the times that uniquely spawned them. they were not the voices of just one generation, but of many. these visionaries have embedded themselves and their paradigms deep into the fabric of our culture. they have torn apart this fabric of reality and woven it back together to provide a clearer, more colourful landscape. the times will change, death will give birth to new life, and empires will rise and fall, yet their ideas will continue to strongly resound loud and clear, firmly planted in the ground to bear the everlasting fruits of truth. because truth is the one thing that never changes, after all our bones have long turned to dust and our lives have dissolved into nothing but a faded memory as the dreamer blinks his eyes.



artifacts from vivy's time capsule

Sun, 23 Jan 2005 16:08:14 GMT

this is me when i was 5 years old, with my family at the grand canyon. you can see how the rebellious streak in me had started developing at an early age.. i've got the entire magnificent grand canyon right behind me yet i chose to ignore it to engross myself in a book about it instead...

(image)



(image)



the death of stars

Thu, 06 Jan 2005 23:09:57 GMT

tweaked out delirium:

(image)



life's an illusion, love is a dream

Fri, 31 Dec 2004 04:09:53 GMT

terrible ted and his shrunken head
went down to the sea of the nearly dead
he said "it kills me to see you so bloody red"
as he plunged in the water like a weight of lead.

mayhem marie and her damsels three
clocked out for the night at the grocery
they swept into town with a riotous sound
and poisoned themselves when no one was around.

the kid with the squid had no clue what he did
when he opened the jar with the heaviest lid
he'd always delighted in finding new scares
but this would be the last as he fell down the stairs.

the ghosts sing the song of their shattered remains
as the sun melts away into cold winter rains
and the voices that whisper the stories will freeze
as the melody strikes you to fall on your knees.

it's not a surprise when you open your eyes
that the world that you see has been telling you lies
and none of the children are tucked in their beds,
they're out on the streets with the nightmares instead.



toxic nostalgia: part ii

Sun, 12 Dec 2004 17:13:06 GMT

another day, some other way, she said
and closed all the doors inside her head
don't wanna look back in retrospect
at all the things you've ever wrecked

confusion confusion the final conclusion
you said it was all just a grand disillusion
money, love, and a shot through the heart:
so wrap it all up just to tear it apart.



i wish i could be like david watts

Fri, 10 Dec 2004 09:00:53 GMT

new pictures!

(image)





(image)

(image)

(image)

(image)

(image)





the idle ballet

Wed, 10 Nov 2004 08:13:25 GMT

beneath a hazy sea of stars, the satellites broadcast the neon twilight circus onto a faded canvas. the velvet colours swirl to form a radiant display [de]composing autumn sonatas to the de(con)struction of the reflection in your eyes. distorted shadows of a city's living ghosts drift restlessly up and down the soggy streets, while the kids raise their plastic cups in empty toast to celluloid idols who unwittingly guard the remnants of their fleeting salvation in a labyrinth of smeared veneers and false eyelashes. another blurry phantom spaceship anxiously awaits the final midnight picture show on the moon while phosphorescent shuttles return the exhausted passengers to their resident alien nation. ~~~*~~~*---:][$*!<---~~~(<;..$!*...enclosed in clothes, bestowed a juxtapose opposed, so faux with woes and prose that froze when those supposed to know must go;*~*~*...[assimilate and subjugate, asphyxiate and suffocate, annihilate obliterate, and obfuscate and desecrate so obdurate and profligate and wait wait wait! for all the hate to dissipate...;



the PATRIOT ACT®-ready BILL OF RIGHTS

Mon, 28 Jun 2004 14:11:34 GMT

DON'T YOU KNOW THAT WHEN THEY PROCLAIM "FREEDOM" THEY ARE REFERRING ONLY TO "FREEDOM OF ENTERPRISE"?

i have revised the bill of rights to reflect the actual circumstances in which we live today in these great united states of amerikkka. please feel free to copy this and pass it on.

ladies and gentlemen, here are your real BILL OF RIGHTS:

I: you have the freedom to speak your mind, as long as it conforms to the thoughts of others; otherwise you will be bullied and terrorized into keeping your mouth shut. you have the freedom to assemble to support any agenda that the government pushes; any subversive demonstration will result in being harassed and beaten up by law enforcement.

II: you have the freedom to own firearms; however if you decide to accumulate a large supply of arms and ammunition you will be profiled as a potential terrorist. Our Leaders™ have the freedom to use our tax dollars to amass an excessive collection of biological, chemical, and nuclear weapons more deadly and destructive than you could ever imagine, so when the revolution comes your little handgun will be a mere joke.

III: any law enforcement agent can search and seize you after they plant incriminating evidence upon you.

IV: in all criminal prosecutions, you have the right to be convicted and imprisoned if you are too poor to afford a decent attorney.

V: excessive bail shall be required, excessive fines shall be imposed, and you reserve the right to have cruel and unusual punishments inflicted upon you.

VI: you have the right to vote, unless you hail from an unfavourable race or background. in this case you have the right to be stripped of your voting privileges and be sent on an unsuccessful wild goose chase in attempt to have these privileges restored, or have your votes thrown out of the election altogether. if your vote actually does process, in the case of presidential elections, your vote is a mere survey; "representatives" whom you may or may not have necessarily chosen will actually do the voting for you, and apparently their vote won't matter either once the Great Leader™ is appointed by a court.

VII: you have the freedom to be a slave or involuntary servant to the whims of an economy completely ruled by greed and inhumanity.

VIII: you have the freedom to become as stupidly intoxicated to your maximum capacity on poisonous liquours and go for a merry joyride/instigate random fights/have embarrassing one-night stands, as long as you don't experiment with other psychoactive substances which may lead to an unacceptable and outlawed expansion of the conscious mind. basically, you are free to consume the worthless, mind-numbing substances which Our Leaders™ have graciously allowed us, but you shall be labelled and charged as a dangerous criminal if you acquire and/or consume any other substances.

IX: all rights reserved.

X: void where prohibited.



so messed up, i want you here

Wed, 26 May 2004 11:21:39 GMT

i'm through with the needle. my veins have collapsed and i can't find a single one to hit. my arms are bruised and my body aches and i can't get rid of these goddamn shakes. send me some pills to conquer my ills. today i got terrified that i would die too soon, that i would lose my limbs, that i would lose myself. so i'm off the junk and i'm all alone and i want to be something great..



it's a sad and beautiful world...

Thu, 08 Apr 2004 20:27:02 GMT

we went wayward ways in the sunset haze
she's crazy about the weather and you don't know whether
it means the walls are green or not
she sang a sing-song lullabye-bye to your apple eyes
and you asked why but didn't cry
then you made a fuss on the bus to soho

santa claus didn't know how to fuck
he let the kids all run amuck in the cosmic snow
[green means go] you know the sound of engines hum
the slums ablaze with firefly dances
in coldhearted trances of trenches and elders
to meet the welders of our thirsts' delight

a wage for an age that doesn't pay
the bills aflutter in the mutter of voices in the hall
she waited for your call but it never came
'cause you thought it was a game for
a lonesome boy to play and adore from a window
to see which way the wind blows above the shrieks of this quiet town.



a fatal exploration into the depths of what!@*$&^misery2¤"3768sömnbrist...

Tue, 20 Jan 2004 15:25:27 GMT

save save save
engrave enslave and save save save
you don't understand the roads that you pave
but you gotta save engrave enslave deprave
engrave your grave with what you gave
to save your slave from holy grave

you're raised so dazed and crazed amazed
phased out the days in a maze of plays
a mess, i digress, is a jest, at best
unless it rests upon the chests
of pests to test the lesser rest of rests
of yous and whos(e) to choose from clues
of trues and blues and news perused
of everyone you shunned and won
a lock to block the clock that rocked
the shock of knock, a stock that mocked
the talk of crock of [shhhh]iiiiiiiiiiiiit you jocked

a canvas smothered in nonsense to reveal conceal appeal to the mislediiiiiiiiiiiijustdon't understand
there's artandbeautyandtruth in this grand land
{{with paper and pen in hand}}
///you sand it down to bitter bland
to stand by plans the man demands]...

and i just don't understand ijustcan'tstandtofallfor a land iloved

so alienated with delineation desecration annihilation a nigh elation a nation a nation a nation under god underground the mounds of dust a-tumblin' down around the scattered sounds of wound up frowns of clowns and hounds

and i just don't understand.?/.? under, stand.. stand under..
.

.......

............

and you worship a shadow

[whether it be god, future, or death]if theyarenotallbutonefathersonandholyghostwith the most gross national product produce induce reduce conclude elude delude you're nude rude lewd and crude and prude and and and.. she awaits your tryst with slit up wrists you kissed amidst a lonely bliss..

but who's to blame for this sacred game
you've tamed yourself lame, now you're all the same

[i'll remember you when you've forgotten your name.]



a modesto proposal

Fri, 09 Jan 2004 09:17:24 GMT

mapiras: you know what would make ah-nuld more interesting?
vaudevillain: um, a personality?
mapiras: if he morphed with Tom Arnold into a new entity
mapiras: Tom Arnold Schwarzenegger
vaudevillain: into arnold arnold?
vaudevillain: ARNIEx2
mapiras: hehe
vaudevillain: that would seriously be scary
mapiras: but intersting at the same time
vaudevillain: maybe we could try colliding them into each other at tremendous speeds
mapiras: yes
mapiras: I see no downside to that
vaudevillain: and if there were any complications, well, no big loss
vaudevillain: ;)
mapiras: exactly!
vaudevillain: show it globally on pay-per-view, california could make up its deficit!!!
mapiras: hehe
mapiras: call it "The Last Action Hero 2"
vaudevillain: hahaha
vaudevillain: "the last action hero 2: this will really be the last action hero"
mapiras: subtitled "hasta la vista, baby"

i'm in such a silly mood tonight..



now i wanna sniff some glue, now i wanna have something to do..

Fri, 19 Dec 2003 09:36:27 GMT

if only i were born someone else.

there's so many things i want to do and so many things that are constantly obstructing my way and i am not strong enough to move them and there is no detour path.

i guess i just wasn't made for these times 'til i realise the times made me.

i'd be a drunk if i could, i'd be a scholar if i could, i wanna be a traveling bluesman with nothing but a guitar and a passion for inspiration and adventure.

i really do need to take better care of myself.

another week of the sick and then nothing but emptiness and nothing and nothing.



how to hate the working classes

Fri, 21 Nov 2003 02:08:57 GMT

luke haines and the auteurs - das capital

a treat for you. the full album. download it while it's hot, folks.



this is what you get for voting arnold..

Sun, 16 Nov 2003 15:26:05 GMT

an autumn apocalypse:

within a caliginous sunset, the ashes are still falling from the skies.

save your bible, save your television, save the photographs of all the people you used to be.

desperately grabbling for the dream of salvation you locked away.

instead of designing paradise, you conceived hell. painting scenes of neon depravity and metal contortion over the incandescent serene landscape. indifferently flicking splashes of grey onto the canvas of an increasingly colourless world.

welcome to the rise and fall of our nuclear civilization. this time there won't be a sequel.