...There was the day when I began to doubt/Man's sanity:How could he live without/Knowing for sure what dawn, what death, what doom/Awaited consciousness beyond the tomb?the one your parents warned you about...I'm an enigma. A thought before the image. A still-born dream of an actual life.A burning, pusy knife wound in a urine-soaked alley of a 19th century insane asylum in the bowels of some eastern european ghetto that god forgot.A sour wave of diamond-melting stench at the result of a bottomless lavatory in the darkest,dankest recesses of your once concrete mind and I've come for your daughter!
(to bring her to the slaughter)OR, if you like to be all technical about it I'm a Canadian refugee living (?) in Tokyo, Nippon doin whatever I have to do to survive.I'm not saying what I did was all right, but trying to break outta the (semi-suburban) ghetto was a day to day fight.I'm a former most things and a future everything. I'd spit on you as soon as look at you but probably just ignore you.I'm quite honestly a pathological liar.Just a jealous monk. An artist of coincidence. A jack off all members and a master of pun.Are you still reading this shit?What they hell is wrong with you!Commit regicide.Squash a bug!Find a cure for stupidity!Piss off!
My Interests
I'd like to meet:
The guy who invented the drum machine because between him and Mr. Oppenhiemer there's some serious explaining to do.
