T̷̷̙r̷̷ͬo̷̷͕p̷̷̞i̷̷̘c̷̷̑ õ̷̷f̷̷̆ L̷̷͋e̷̷͖u̷̷ͧk̷̷̪e̷̷̹m̷̷ͅia

[John Gable]

“This isn̨'t artͧ. It's a ͠n̘̤ervous breakdown̺ I̢ swear͝ ̳͂̆win this giant falls H́e won't makͧ̿̚e a sound” ͞-1002kej

“This isn't art.

It's a nervous breakdown

I swear win this giant falls

He won't make a sound”

-1002kej
“This isn̨'t artͧ. It's a ͠n̘̤ervous breakdown̺ I̢ swear͝ ̳͂̆win this giant falls H́e won't makͧ̿̚e a sound” ͞-1002kej

_{contains links}

INDULGE

A demonic rolling ball of sulfur dividing whirlwinds of thunderous individuality which remain stolen. I am stolen, thrown into a mess. Crumbling jaw manufactured from death circuits; internal struggle factors. It was that time again. My own drowning period as I watched everyone pass by with their conjoined smiles. I sit in the basement. A trope of brooding fascination. I am constructing something, but I am not sure what quite yet. I am not even sure if it is a physical manifestation or a mental construct but I am building it all on my own. Creating something that no one can judge. I can't fail if there is no precedence for it! I take what I know and distort it until the speakers clip, until the picture blurs, until the feedback squeals! I am creating something beyond indulgent, so far beyond that it that it comes back around into freedom; freedom from the established, freedom from standards, freedom from criticism! They all might stare at it questioningly but it will be because they have been defeated.

I've done it again. A red crimson stream spilling into my hands. Hanging from chains was a body I didn't even know. Why can't I stop?!? Someone please help me! I am alone and in a dark dingy basement of soaked bricks and earthy ground. A fruit cellar...I can't seem to pull myself together. My mind is scattered into bits. I just drive the knife deeper even though I want to stop. This dying body coughs up red spit as tears run down my face. What did she do to deserve this?! Nothing! The best people in the world can suffer a tragedy; an atrocity. I remember having such an attraction to her. She was just so colorful and bright. That smile... but now she is here. Why are we here?! I don't want to be here! I don't want to be here! I don't want to be here! Someone take me away from here!

Will it be too much to love? Maybe. Maybe nothing is to be loved. Maybe it is just at the _{rate in} ^{which everyone} _{hates it} ^{that it} either sinks or floats. The amount of people in love with it matters not. Die hard fans have saved very little if anything at all. But, I am creating something one cannot hate for if they hate it – if they form any opinion at all – I will have won! It is meant to be disgusting for those who find it so! It is meant to be revolutionary for those who manage to see it in its solidarity! It is meant to be challenging and critical for those who will hold it up for their rallying cry! But in all essence, it will be brilliant and beautiful because it will be so to me! And to it, I will be the only affection it needs. What ever it is it will succeed in being.

I could hear Lisa calling down to me. I had been sitting in the basement for an hour, purely pondering to myself; shaping the great conquest in side my very own structure. She would like me up for dinner, but I am not hungry...But I shout I will be up to eat in a minute and then return to my pondering. ^{I dare say I will recreate good and bad by demonstrating a new perspective} which the blind are yet to see. I will exhaust the resources until there has to be something new. I will not settle for less. People will abandon themselves to this revelation! Life was not what you once thought it was! Our normalized observations will pale in comparison!

_{I can't even bring myself to describe all the damage to her face. I didn't want to do it! I just wanted to be normal and talk to her! I wanted to be okay and have her be okay! But then with a snap! I am back in the cellar! I don't enjoy this. I am not happy. I am suffering but for some reason I want to sink down into my suffering. I despise myself as if I was two separate beings fighting for control and even though I lose every time, I am the one holding the knife every single time! GOD DAMN IT!...I finally let go of the knife as the body goes limp. I push open the doors that lead to the outside, fully knowing I will return there once again. I will need to return to dispose of the body, but for now I walk.}

Lisa calls for me again. Her conscious thought snakes down to me, staring at me with blue eyed concern while I swallow my daggers for the betterment of proper innovation. There had never been a discovery without pain, without sacrifice! I feel the need to threaten this concern off but I resist for now. The snake does not interfere. And as long as the snake doesn't interfere, I will arrive upstairs for dinner. She doesn't want to eat alone and I won't force her. She would find it unnatural at this point and I can't blame her. She would spy it as a red flag and I have no reason to give her a red flag made out of the red rose I continually give her. There is a part of me that wants to though; to make her wonder and to make others wonder, but this passes. I am more entranced in protecting my brain child for right now.

I stare at my dinner. Chicken, salad, biscuits, and red beans and rice. It is fine but what do I need of it? I almost find it irritating that my life needs these things constantly to work properly. I am a human, not yet an immortal. I do not exist without faults of the flesh...She asks me if I enjoy my meal. I don't not enjoy it. I give her a slight nod and uh-huh as I keep silent. I can feel her grimace. I wanted it to feel genuine but there was that bit of me again that wanted it to stick out for a reason. Am I crying out for help or trying to offend her peace of mind. Am I bitter about the Oscars? Yes, but not about her part in it. She went above and beyond to protect me when she could have been angry with me. She could have left and no one would have blamed her. She could have moved out, canceled the engagement, and never have spoken to me again and she would have been completely justified. But she stayed and tried to fish me out of a bad situation that I was going to make worse. But maybe I did it because I wanted to get worse. Maybe I want my life to reach a climax of self-destruction where there could be no further possible form of rock bottom...

The stars are bright but sparse as the streetlights block out these magnificent beams from heaven. Why must beauty encourage destruction? I never killed out of frustration. Even after falling from grace, I never had the urge for revenge or act out my frustration in a cathartic manner. It was always when I see something exquisite and damningly beautiful. Something about it demands me to dominate it, steal it away and make sure no one else can have it. It is frightening because I don't plan on it. I don't want the feeling but it swells up and shuts down any possibility of combating it!

I hate that sensation of falling. To continually feel lower than the day before. To always be worried that the next day I will fall further than the day before. Is there a point where I can start going upwards? Is there a point where I, personally, can't sink any further and then I can start my climb again? Or is it to the point where I would have to be moments away from mental death before it buries me into the ground once and for all? Am I meant to never return to the surface?

I swim for a bit in my distaste. If I turn it over enough, maybe the familiarity will change it into something sweet or savory instead. But then I take another bite of chicken and I am thrown back into the fact that the food is more real than any goal or standard we as a species have ever created and reached. The truth is in this meat exterior. I might as well be taking a bite out of myself. What exists in our world results from what our outer vessel needs. GOD DAMN IT! That ^nihilism shit is so pathetic and should be reserved for rejects like Henson who need to justify their pointlessness and lack of reasons! I at least have Lisa and my little monster that I continually think about still. Even as I sit in the dining room eating my supper, I am still down in the basement. I am still anticipating the day of the big “debut” day dreaming of all the faces and the thoughts behind them as they finally realize what they did. They rejected a genius and led to his magnum opus while also creating a villain and led to his monstrosity! Gravestone lights burning angel hair creating the scent the stuffy air from a thousand empty heads. Reaching in with bony fingers I will pull out a new flesh, one of rubber and plastic. The Hollywood prop slaughtering the historic rapists of conceptual identity! I call out to freedom!

_{I look inside a restaurant and spot a couple. They smiled. It was art. I just keep walking. Why do I exist? Who created me? If there is a creator, why would he make me so fucked!? What am I to prove?! Am I supposed to over come this? How am I supposed to make this okay? People look at me with no concern, maybe even a smile is thrown my way. I wonder if they know and if they are just mocking me but that quickly passed as nonsense. A smile is just a smile...Until I see on particular smile...She was beautiful. A curly red strand of hair fell down in front of her eye and her lips were a dark flower of glory, dark rimmed glasses, a copy of Less than Zero in her hands, a coffee in front of her. Something in her presence drew me...Made me think, maybe this time...it will be different...}

I wash my plate off and place it in the dishwasher before making my way to the basement, but before I descend even the first step, Lisa asks me if I am really going down into the basement again. Of course she knows I really am but she asks as a subtle hint, hoping I would change my mind. I answer yes in a stale and questioning tone. What will she want to claim for me. She just responds wondering if I would want to watch a movie instead. I reply “Can I even watch a movie at this point?”...I descend to the basement.

_{...I did it again...}

"Our creations are real...in one way or another...interplexicity makes it so our frustrations, our brooding, and our contempt creates - in a separate world - a tragedy...while maybe by chance creating salvation in another world...But does all that beauty justify infinitely more evil in every other world?" - Hophni