It's quite intricate to find even a single metaphor for this dumb boy's severe psychotic behavior. Or at least how this boy used to impersonate his own persona. His mere name is, or was, indescribably pretentious. His lame actions were damnable just as his lame proclamations were. It was so effortless of him to capture any gullible gobbledygook's attention but one time, unknown inter-universal forces conferred to fracture his earthly teases. It was an opportunity for him to metamorphose his schizoic deeds.
He tried. He faked. He lied. He tried. He persuaded. He lied. And, he, yes he did, failed.
It's the only routine he knew. Seeking attention. Preying for victims. Spying on someone else's Achilles' spot. Never mind the outwardly physique, it is the true psyche that matters most. And for that, he plainly lost. He will never get rid of his own murky shadows.
And so they say that hatred is only a manifestation of guilt, or maybe, disillusion. In this scenario, there's no room for the mentioned abstractions. This perfect situation was bound to be false; it was fabricated to be complicated. And etceterae. Narration in the past tense, hopefully, shall expunge unintended charades and masquerades that were only unmeant into a vast hole of forgetfulness. No more dream infestations. No more reality confrontations.
Say so long to your putrid schlong.
Author
Eяin Heяoin
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Multiple Schizosis
It's quite intricate to find even a single metaphor for this dumb boy's severe psychotic behavior. Or at least how this boy used to impersonate his own persona. His mere name is, or was, indescribably pretentious. His lame actions were damnable just as his lame proclamations were. It was so effortless of him to capture any gullible gobbledygook's attention but one time, unknown inter-universal forces conferred to fracture his earthly teases. It was an opportunity for him to metamorphose his schizoic deeds.
He tried. He faked. He lied. He tried. He persuaded. He lied. And, he, yes he did, failed.
It's the only routine he knew. Seeking attention. Preying for victims. Spying on someone else's Achilles' spot. Never mind the outwardly physique, it is the true psyche that matters most. And for that, he plainly lost. He will never get rid of his own murky shadows.
And so they say that hatred is only a manifestation of guilt, or maybe, disillusion. In this scenario, there's no room for the mentioned abstractions. This perfect situation was bound to be false; it was fabricated to be complicated. And etceterae. Narration in the past tense, hopefully, shall expunge unintended charades and masquerades that were only unmeant into a vast hole of forgetfulness. No more dream infestations. No more reality confrontations.
Say so long to your putrid schlong.
He tried. He faked. He lied. He tried. He persuaded. He lied. And, he, yes he did, failed.
It's the only routine he knew. Seeking attention. Preying for victims. Spying on someone else's Achilles' spot. Never mind the outwardly physique, it is the true psyche that matters most. And for that, he plainly lost. He will never get rid of his own murky shadows.
And so they say that hatred is only a manifestation of guilt, or maybe, disillusion. In this scenario, there's no room for the mentioned abstractions. This perfect situation was bound to be false; it was fabricated to be complicated. And etceterae. Narration in the past tense, hopefully, shall expunge unintended charades and masquerades that were only unmeant into a vast hole of forgetfulness. No more dream infestations. No more reality confrontations.
Say so long to your putrid schlong.
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Born in the mid-80s, Erin Herøin is a marveller of non-sequitur writing, cinematic films, & analogue photography.
Before, she used to be an aspiring physician; now, she is a newbie bassist who has 5.50/5.00 eyes & black tattoos on her right arm.
She's the former chief editor of Lomography's international magazine, the founder of Whilst We Wait, & the author of Paranoirexia.
Today, she curates and directs Parallel Planets, an online publication on creatives worldwide.
She dwells in the Eastern border of Manila with her pet pussies.
Before, she used to be an aspiring physician; now, she is a newbie bassist who has 5.50/5.00 eyes & black tattoos on her right arm.
She's the former chief editor of Lomography's international magazine, the founder of Whilst We Wait, & the author of Paranoirexia.
Today, she curates and directs Parallel Planets, an online publication on creatives worldwide.
She dwells in the Eastern border of Manila with her pet pussies.
