This is a Journal entry by aonemantidalwave

The Sweet Taste of Self Destruction.

Post 1

aonemantidalwave

Close your eyes and make a wish.
Shall we decide when and where or wait like a game of Russian Roulette?
Who are we if we are not men?
And does not dream of the unwalked lands?
I believe it is time.
And with time comes acceptance.
And with acceptance comes relish.
Take a long last look around.
And then plunge, my love, into the dark seas.
With her taste in your mouth.
And your words in your heart.
Sleep, for tomorrow we enter the Kingdom.
And I want to ready for them.
They are my family now.
In this dusty land of scabs and wasted flesh.
Of TV adverts and neon gravestones.
Of cannibal priests and perverted tax dodgers.
This wasted land of the living.
Is like the final days of Rome.
A dark province of rough stupidity,
And arrogant conceit.
This is no longer a world of men.
This is a tower of plague.
And I want no part of it.
For am I long gone.
Like the fire in the cornfields.


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The Sweet Taste of Self Destruction.

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