insanityandcataclysm

Finalé the shriveled rose dampened by dew reclaims her beauty refined the wrinkled face plagued by years delivers enigma defined the battered hand that holds such beauty shivers from the cold this is the last hope. auf wiedersehen.

E  X  P  A  N  S  I  0  N The surrealist seeks nutrition manipulation, control For to achieve the elated whims of his alter-ego he must alter Reality and become what he must be For many moons have risen and died, yet change has not since touched her being. EXPRESSI0N One more shall rise to the moment, and seize the human race They shall be captivated He shall be Supreme Like the reigning gods of our religions He shall be the Omni Freedom, and Revolution D E S T R U C T I 0 N The surrealist and the Omni gather the masses and together they lea

The boy had been passing a bench in the park when he noticed the girl sitting there was drawing. Looking over her shoulder, he saw it was an ordinary scene. Despite its simplicity, he liked it. The picture was a man sitting on a park bench, smiling and looking at something off in the distance , his hat tipped back. The background wasn't finished yet, but she would probably finish that later. "Can I help you?" The girl - her eyes were clear blue and she was smiling - had turned around. She seemed to be regarding him with a feigned politeness. "Ah, I noticed your drawing is really good." He gave a small smile, embarrassed to be caught. She mu

"You see my boy the world is…" He paused. I had come a long way to this old house in the middle of nowhere to hear the hermits wisdom. "The world is a big clock full of ants." Another pause, this one filled with a different kind of tension "What?" "A clock full of ants. We are the ants, obviously. We move around inside a gigantic mechanism, partially maintained by other ants, and we try not to get crushed by the cogs. Forever rolling new cogs into place. Many toil forever in this lightless obscurity. Until they are crushed in their own constructions" I wouldn't let that be all the answer I received. "Then who built the clock?" I sa

"When I consider your loyalty, I cannot help but marvel.  There are statues in public squares erected for just that sort of honor.  I am reminded of such a marble likeness: pale and polished, proudly ideal, yours is a monument that, with its unblinking gaze, would command a whole park.  And true, from atop your solid plinth you could watch whole ages of the world pass you by.  Through thick and thin, summer and winter, snow and rain, the weather's changing moods would go, but not a single breath of wind would dare disturb your sculpted locks.  Oh, no: steadfast, loyal, solid, always.