There’s a channel in the road, of lies and deceit, and it is always there, in our eyes, in our minds. And so we cross the boundary, and so we walk along, For all that we have stolen, for all that we have won.See the world for nothing shaken, and the fires we always cry, and the shining dream of conciousness, sees the skies of witless sails.Fortune shining always encumbered, tales told of none and two, so I wonder always simply, silly styles gone out of tune. Straying into walls asunder, drinking fully from the wine, There is sickness in this hallway, If only there was time.So with folly, and with ire, we wander here and there. The wharfs of ships and lost goth raids, we harrow in the hills. Fortuna isle luna, the song above the skies. Of two and three and never more, seas drift and wash and rise.It’s uneven, and yet sundered, undone and full of woe. Living rakes the coals of rage, and roasts you in the cold. So it is, so there always a time in need of change.We break apart, and draw a start, and drive them all away.

Through the dawn of night, In the dark of day, Do you stumble through the light, And mumble all the way?For all this, I don’t fear little voices echoing in cascading whispers through the shaded sunset. But the cackling oppressive insight threatening to forge insanity and uncertainty, wringing its hands gleefully, envisions a future swarming with plodding wretches, tainted and undone. The writhing Leviathan, composed of our blackest collaborations, is a charred and roasted thing fueled by souls bathed in unseelie creatures scampering through unsettling shadows of beasts far more disturbing.These shapes, grotesque and horrifying, invade closed eyes, rippling and bulging with eyes improper, and limbs deformed. Pulsating masses give birth to hideous heads and screaming faces unfit and terrible to behold. A pillar of spines twists toward an infinite sky, vaulting a cracked and splintered wasteland, dripping blood-soaked flesh and spray on inhabitants weak and uncaring.Through this oblivion, time passes not at all, known to the unfortunate pariahs trapped in the maelstrom of fervid and voracious detachment. Faithless disquiet smothers this crumbling facade, consumed by history, forgotten and forfeit. Did the lost learn from their experiences here, dead and dust to the ages? Do they teach still, though no trace remains of their greatness or vile lascivious evil? Does anyone care?As the universe is infinite, unbounded too, are possibilities unfound within. What point to experience an insignificant fraction of a percent of a trillionth of an iota, when that knowledge too is dashed upon the rocks of time? We are fools, all.And we are undone.

I’ve skimmed reality for ages, hovering above solid shapes and substance. Senses are a shade of rift, cracked and disjointed in an ever-growing hallway of warped uneasiness. I am a creature of fear, immersed forever in writhing horrors given strength by my vivid and terrible imagination. So sounds cascade, the world perpetually filtered through distorting lenses, and everything so obviously improper, so wrong. My mind has rebelled against this mockery, tearing constantly at my resolve and steadily eroding away sanity already shrunken and lame.There is only emptiness here. My stomach writhes and churns with each realization, of myself, of the world, of the universe and the origin of reality. No logical or sensible understanding seems capable of calming frayed nerves when all appears to be tainted, impossible and improbable.Who is there? Who is none. All is there. And so, is won But seemingly I can Know all I do. Seek nothing I am Tired of simplicity Sought of infinity but no it is not And there I care not It endsIs this random? Does it matter? I can not fix it, and it laughs. This is all there is, and in the end, nothing remains. This world is but a shard, an expression of all realities that can or will exist. I am me, I am you, I am the woman sipping a beer in a run-down Copenhagen bar, and I am nothing. I am here because I am an expression, an aspect of reality. I am the universe, and so are you. This is the true instrumentality of reality; nothing exists because everything exists. There is no beginning or end, only existence and oblivion entwined for a timeless eternity.I understand it all, but can not escape the feeling I am merely watching the life of another. Dreams are more real than this increasingly unbelievable facade.I wish I could wake up, but I am so tired.

Through this whole move to Chicago, I’ve done my best to keep a positive outlook, even through a minor car accident and tickets every time I looked at a parking spot the wrong way. But you know what?

FUCK CHICAGO

Well, I was driving to work this morning, and there was a white car behind me driving a little too close. This happens often in this area, so I didn’t really care much. The lane I was in started to slow down, so I flipped on my turn signal, looked to my left, saw nothing immediately in the way, and merged over. Unfortunately the white car behind me saw the same spot, and must have sped up really quickly and tried to get there before me. Due to the antics that followed, I will continue to refer to this driver as Mario. I guess my getting there first angered Mario, because he immediately changed lines, pulled up beside me, and practically stood on his horn.