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writeThis.com
fuck you people
"the confrontation of aesthetics..."
vol. ii,  issue ii
Apr. 12, 2004
writeThis
jul/aug  2003






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shut the
fuck
up
the Sin of Joy
Ivan

One awoke to feel dry indifference. One reckons, indifference toward life is worse then hate for life. Because hate is an emotion; and emotions are alive.

Slowly one fell out of the bed, embracing the carpeted floor as an alternative to the comforts of a spring mattress. Soon after, one stood up to remember who he was. And so I did.

My name is Ivan. I have a last name but it’s a bitch for you to pronounce (if you are from the other side of the iron curtain that is :o). Ivan was born in the Union of Soviet Socialistic Republics. It soon collapsed, but at the age of 6 I was not politically conscious and didn’t give all that much shit. The whole incident left me with a psychological complex, common to Russian boys, of having to constantly repress my desire to ejaculate into Gorbachev’s ass and have Boris Yeltsin along with Nancy Reagan witness the whole ordeal. It’s ok. There are therapy groups.

Slowly one walked toward the restroom. One begun to release the liquids. I bended over slightly to observe the balance of clear toilet water shattered by a yellow tint.

”the monotony of life”, to quote a voice in my head

“Tipper and I”, to quote, the former vice president, Al Gore

My next venture involved walking backward and leaning against the wall to see my jubilant stream go the distance. And it did. But no for long, gang. It was loosing the grip on its life and I had to hurry back so not to endanger the hygiene of the bathroom rug with my godless trickery. 

Balance restored with a flush.

SLAY BALANCE

Do you hear the drums?

The truth is that we’ve known each other for eternity. Our souls rejoiced in the garden before the birth of morals, before the death of crucified men, before the soft laughter of the wind started the universe.

Please, baby, listen to my words.

We are all one entity. All of us are small children dancing on the edge of the abyss…

Dancing on the edge of the abyss…   

Come close so I can feel your breath on my skin. Hurry or I will die.

Start a fire on the misty hills of your subconscious. Do you hear the drums?
Lets dance around the flames. Quickly, or I will perish.

Faster and faster

Do you hear the drums?

Shut down your identity as you swirl around the fire in ecstasy.

In ecstasy

Baby, listen to me.

You did not come out of a women’s vagina.

You are higher then that. WE!

We are higher then that. 

Dance, bitch! Dance!

No one to judge you

You have no fears or imperfections.

You were told

You aren’t human

You were told

We are one entity

Scream!

No one will hear you!

Scream!

Let your dark side sing

Let your blood flow

Let your dark side sing as you rip the sky with a hideous noise

Trippin’ on reality

There is no tomorrow

There is no pain

No fear

No empathy

Emptiness!

Indifference!

Erotic fantasies of waking up in utopia…

Are lies

They are lies

Feel my love

Please, baby

Feel my love, please, feel my love

We are divine

Small children

Small children

Small children dancing on the edge of the…

Ocean

Yes

An ocean

An ocean of dark delusions

Good God!

It’s cold
can you see your breath?