

All Men are IslandsAll Men are Islands Unto ThemselvesAll Men are Islands
You know whats depressing? You. Knowing that I am an observer in a subjective reality determined by my ethereal consciousness. Realizing that I can't know if you exist. All physical matter between myself and anyone else is governed by Heisenberg's undeniable uncertainty principle...and infinite of infinite possibilities lie between myself and any experience, including that of any interaction with anything I would call you. All these myriad avenues of imagination exist simultaneously until I (and perhaps that which I would call you) observe (measure, interact etc.) a particular event of re


The Killing StarThe Killing StarThe Killing Star
Blood red earth, scorched and barren Fine dust disturbed by my passing Whipped to a frenzy by a spiteful wind Nothing lay in shadow under that brilliant star
It hovers close, too close Life-giving energies overwhelm to destruction Still I trudge on, my last hope for incarnation Burning; too close, closer
Despair finds me I will fall, and become dross My metamorphasis to a cairn I am dust, the spiteful wind


Throes of SolicitudeSometimes my heart just aches. ACHES. Like its a living organism, of its own mind and will. Trying to grasp out to my mind. Recollect forgotten grief and sorrows unborn to my consciousness. Its mute messages bombard, whispers and fragments of notes written of bloodied paper. I cannot tell if it wishes to help or hinder the greater whole, the cacophony of emotion is too much to decipher. Its sermons fall on deaf ears and its books are thrust before a blind man; reaching, clutching, hoping the next will somehow be different than the rest. Will can no longer stay the aching tide, the levies falter. Water bursts forth freezing in the air of coldThroes of Solicitude
hullo *hug*
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-Megan
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Sarcasm helps keep you from telling people what you really think of them.
Wonderfully talented.
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-Megan
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Update: March 22, 2009: You can send your contact details to !Morologus-Es if you wish.
I feel I contradicted myself: I on the one hand, said that Nature wills that we commit suicide; yet on the other, that it is contrary to her will (that is, of seeing her be born). How do you think I handled that? I am not sure: and you are an intelligent fellow (or thus is the impression your gallery has impressed upon me), so any critique at all shall be most appreciated.
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Update: March 22, 2009: You can send your contact details to !Morologus-Es if you wish.
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