About
^*^ ╪ There's no fighting it. That's right. You're all going to die.Oh, and who am I, you ask, that I might say these things to you?
I am the one known as Charisma, 榊貴 隆也.
I am mortal, flawed, trapped in my own skin, my own barely-used brain. I do not understand this death, but I am learning to trust it. Only through this death can come the glory of resurrection; only through this death can come birth.
I inhale the smoke of a hundred other people’s excuses for addictions, wishing I had one of my own to fall victim to. Somehow I feel I ought to have a reason to destroy myself; to tear myself out by the lungs and throw myself away. This is your fault. You and yours and your clever little world you all think is so tinkling and precious and permanent, when it's all falling away minute by minute and second by second and there's not a blessèd thing your little group of yahoos can do about it, so nyeh. ):-Þ
So comon, yeah,let's go fill your head with useless junk.We're only young once, so let's screw this up right.
Tick tock. Hear it? Every tick screams loss, no matter what your ambitions.
All of us, moths around the flame. Circling the drain.
For those that care and/or don't know, "Circling the Drain", or "CTD", is medical jargon for when a patient's health takes a drastic/progressive turn for the worse. At first, I intended this work to mirror the classic stages of hypovolemic shock, but then I decided most of you would get as bored as I am already, so I decided to let that go.
I was going to include some wordy quote from the Tibetan Book of the Dead too, but I accidentally spilled pheromone coffee on the copy I had.
Anyway, do your little dance, silly monkeys, for as long as you still can. You're only sad puppets putting off the inevitable, maaan.
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