ÚÄ Ü Ü Ü Ü Ä¿ Ûßß ÛßÛ ß Û Û Ûßß ÜÜÛ ß ÛÛÜ Û Ü ßßÛ ÛÜÛ Û Û Û Ûß Û Û Û Û Þ ÛÜß ÛÛÛ Û ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ Û Þ ÛßÛ ÀÄ ÄÙ Ä electronic literary 'zine Ä *ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ* ù ÄÄ´ volume two ÃÄÄ ù *ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ* stop plagiarism - let out your soul Copyright 1995 ú úùcompiled & edited by Twilightùú ú ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ þ Table of Contents þ ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù 1. A Short Dialogue: A Solution To Truth - Chameleon 2. Astrotaught - Slayer@ZON 3. Dark Seed - Gabrielle 4. Desolation. - Twilight 5. Face The Wall. - Slayer@ZON 6. Flash Flood - Twilight 7. Garble - Soul Eater 8. Generation XXX (Casual Sex In The Nineties) - Shadou 9. Holy Waters - Sin 10. Iconoclast - Sin 11. Leap Of Faith - Sin 12. Lie - Maryjane@CWK 13. March Of The Dead - Sin 14. Missing You - Twilight 15. More Than Life - Ben Hoogterp 16. No Way Out - Twilight 17. Pain - Soul Eater 18. Perfect - Sin 19. Phoenix - Drucilla B. Blood 20. Poetry Corner - Radhika Gajjala 21. Questions, Motivations, And Questions Of Motivations - Chameleon 22. Seed - Slayer@ZON 23. Terminal - Sin 24. There Will Come A Time - Angel Alice 25. Truth By Elimination - Chameleon 26. Undo - Slayer@ZON 27. Untitled - Annoying Man 28. Untitled - Dark Goob 29. Untitled - Egypt 30. Untitled - Iyad Ismael 31. Untitled - Sin 32. Untitled - Soul Eater 33. Untitled (2) - Soul Eater 34. What Rap Music Makes Me Write - Soul Eater 35. Why I Cried - Twilight þ Including Quotes From: M.J. Adler, V. Raiuhes Ahaefvthe, Courtney Love, Abraham Maslow, Mycroft, Julia Soul, and Sting@243 ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ A Short Dialogue: A Solution To Truth þ Chameleon ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Wiseman: I am a seeker of truth! Skeptic: What is truth? Wiseman: I don't know, that is why I am seeking it. Skeptic: How do you know what to seek? Wiseman: By revealing of what is false, inconsistent, and contradictory. Skeptic: How do you know what is false? Wiseman: It proves not to be consistent. Skeptic: What is consistent? Wiseman: Anything that remains constant given a particular set of circumstances. Skeptic: How do you know what is contradictory? Wiseman: Anything that reveals unto itself an inability to remain consistent by virtue of its nature or collective elements. Skeptic: How do you conclude it is true? Wiseman: By giving it the benefit of probability. Skeptic: Does the truth necessitate certainty? Wiseman: Yes. Skeptic: How? Wiseman: By eliminating any doubt. Skeptic: How can you eliminate doubt? Wiseman: By eliminating the question, for questioning feeds doubt, and fundamentally, nothing is certain. Skeptic: So how can you be certain if something is true, or that the truth is certain? Wiseman: I've already answered the former, as for the latter truth is certainty. Skeptic: You've only said that the truth necessitates certainty and that truth is a benefit of probability. Wiseman: The truth is without doubt. Skeptic: Is there anything without doubt? Wiseman: Yes, but only the truth! Skeptic: Can a man live without doubt? Wiseman: No. Skeptic: What is doubt? Wiseman: To doubt is to question, to be uncertain. Skeptic: How can one be not uncertain? Wiseman: Death. Skeptic: The truth is death? Wiseman: No, but death needs no truth. Skeptic: So the answer to the seeking of truth is death? Wiseman: Not an answer but a solution. "Intelligence is the ultimate aphrodisiac." Astrotaught þ Slayer@ZON ùúùúùúùúùúùú Now hear this Let there be no misinterpretation You live among the lonely You live in a capitalist nation In the past you've been scarred By someone I need the expiration date at the bottom of your card Prey on the weak and poor Prey on the weak and poor This is a capitalist nation I am an astrowhore Let it be known Now hear me out I see for you wealth untold Just sit back and listen to me And watch it all unfold Let my conscience be your guide Listen to my words See the shelter they provide To lose sight of reality To have a place to hide Prey on the weak and poor Prey on the weak and poor This is a capitalist nation I am an astrowhore "All through the '80s, it was a goddamn nightmare, hearing things from other women like 'Well, I can borrow my boyfriend's bass. We can open for my boyfriend's band. I can't make practice tonight because I have to meet my boyfriend.' Ugh!" Ä Courtney Love Dark Seed þ Gabrielle ùúùúùúùúùúù You've done this to me. It's your fault. Taken something innocent and frail And transformed it into this. You've planted this seed. This dark seed of hatred and evil, Planted deep within the soil of my heart. And it grows and grows. Each day, turning my red vibrant heart Into a poisoned black hollow mass. Each day, you water it with harsh words, Nourish it with hatred. All the while, this dark seed continues to grow, to harden, to strengthen. Soon, this dark seed will envelop my heart. And there will be nothing left of the innocence. Nothing left of the love I once felt. There will be nothing left--but evil and hatred. desolation. þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúù sitting in this forlorn pit, emptiness surrounds me... the hollow echo of silence hardly heals this aching soul. my head buried between my knees oblivious to the outer realm: shutting out the world, shutting out life, all they do is harm me. thin rays of light dancing over my skin they provide no comfort as i huddle, shivering my arms, around my legs, try to pull my outer self in. drawing all into my internal black hole - my crushŠd chest... and a void of nothingness enveloping. "I lived with someone who said every day that he was going to kill himself, and it wasn't like I was bored with it by any means. I did what I could to make sure that didn't happen. And that resulted in a lot of hysteria on my part. There was a lot of screaming, a lot of yelling. A lot of kicking the walls, a lot of broken fax machines and telephones. I started to feel like my purpose in life was noble - to take care of these two human beings, my husband and child, and make sure that they lived." Ä Courtney Love Face The Wall. þ Slayer@ZON ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Another sleepless night next to her All I do is toss and turn I grip my pillow and face the wall I dream of her and it seems like real I lie awake and this is what I feel I can't build a life on regret For things not done, words left unsaid I lay here and think every night How to break free How to make it right She drapes her arm over mine She runs her hand through my hair The thought of losing me I know she couldn't bear What to do, what to do I want to wake up in another place No one to look at, no one to talk to Except for you But for now I grip the pillow and face the wall. Flash Flood (to my love, Dave from Alaska) þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú sweet notes floating, drifting... caressing rolling hills of everlasting green... the series of melodies seep into my heart, my soul, my mind, my existing being... steering itself to the left and right while lightly skimming each emotion - each feeling, every thought and dream, continuously sailing into my limpid pool, my eternal ocean, every now and again, coming to bank upon the shore... the sanctuary where your aura, your presence gently rests and resides... clinging ever-so-softly on the vines which swing as the images of yesterday tug upon them. tears attach themselves delicately to the grains of life - the sands of time - as my heart calls out for you. visions of laughter, of comraderie... of fleeing, yet so deeply imbedded passion underneath moonlit skies and fluffy clouds, intertwined, our arms, as down the path of light we flow... so graceful...and yes, so serene... forever down this rippling waterway. these blinded eyes beg to see again as the sweet breath of music gently pushes along the quickening pulse, the pumping heart - yearning to see you, it's other half... by its side, in its reflection, for all to come - one and complete. entities singing heavenly interludes to one another as two interlinked golden bands chasing life, racing death, drifting...gracefully... continuing on down the river of time for eternity... "Sex, to him, was incredibly sacred. He found commitment to be an aphrodisiac." Ä Courtney Love Garble þ Soul Eater ùúùúùúùúùúùú I hate the little notecards that fall out of magazines. I hate the little people that piss me off. I hate all the commercials trying to change my mind. I hate all politics that go on around me. I hate having teachers that are ridiculous. I hate people that get in the way of learning. I hate when my mouse doesn't respond. I hate my parents. I hate my teachers. I hate when my parents tell me what to do. I hate when teachers don't know what they're doing. I hate not being able to beat Doom. I hate having to explain who I am. I hate not knowing what I'll be. I hate all the questions without answers. I hate people who think they know what's good for me. I hate liars. I hate fakes. I hate having all these things I hate. I hate not being able to express myself. Generation XXX (Casual Sex In The Nineties) þ Shadou ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú The back seats of cars, in darkened city parks, behind locked doors, with old dirty whores. In dingy clubs, grungy bars, or wide open fields under the stars, I wish I may, I wish I might, Find me a chick, and get laid tonight. Teen girl beauties with unblemished skin, Flirt not so innocently with older men. Pick them up, drive them around. Take it off and stick it in. Condom, Oh condom, keep me safe tonight. Dieseases today are quite a fright. They fuck all night long, or maybe to just one song, They play bondage games, and never tell their names, Or fall madly in love, like the soft-hearted dove. At any measure, the sex is what they treasure, coming in droves, to the caves and coves, and watering holes, and meeting places, come every night, you'll see the same faces. They sit and they drink occasionally a wink, Lustful and sly, inviting a "Hi there, I was wondering....." Women will talk, about bad pickup lines, Men will think twice, about committing new crimes. Of passion and lust, "Don't cum in my mouth." Oh, the hideous trust. Eventually they leave, paired off once again, "My place or yours?" and the sex games begin. They kiss and suck, nibble and blow, fondle and fuck, cum and go. Trading phone numbers, that accidentally get tossed, trading memories to be immediately lost. Out the door and once again alone, I got myself laid, Now it's time to go home. "Virgins are addicts waiting to happen. All they need is one little taste, one well-placed nibble, and they're hooked. They're sluts to passion upon their first fix, their first connection." Ä Sting@243 holy waters (dedicated to scd) þ Sin ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú all i can give is all i can take all that is left is this empty ache sent my soul down in flames burnt up all that is true now my evil thirst drinks up the goodness in you if i can't be redeemed please let me still choose the right to do wrong and do it with you gonna hammer the nail gonna drive it right thru gonna give you my sin again and again my love is blind but my guilt can see that these flames that surround me were not your destiny but my final prayer my only chance to be free is thru the burning seas of your soul you've parted for me iconoclast þ Sin ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù you castrate yourself with tribal fertility imagery and weekly sacrificial rites to appease your god you put your brain on a shelf you abdicate your responsibility you abuse what little reasoning you have as an expression of your faith in what isn't and never will be you spread your brain wide you let yourself get fucked in the head but he loves you so that makes it ok, right? you beat yourself and others off into pacifistic submission to the will of an all-powerful god that your primitive ancestors created out of wood and stone and then watch with your god as the crops still fail and bad things still happen to good people. you deceive yourself with divine words of wisdom written in greek on crumbling parchment that wise men with secret prayer decoder rings and secret motives decipher into crude dogmas and cheap platitudes dressed in stuffy jargon and expensive three-piece suits. let's see. how does your ludicrous chant go? say you're sorry for your bad breath ask fred to come into your kitchen be baptized in ketchup and olive oil then you'll go to wal-mart and live happily ever after now send me money. that's it, give or take a word or two. your church is a social club your religion is amway and your god is a god of fools. "I had this theory that the persona people project onstage is the exact opposite of who they are. In Kurt's case, it was 'Fuck you!' And ultimately, his largest problem in life was *not* being about to say, 'Fuck you.' 'Fuck you, Courtney. Fuck you, Gold Mountain. Fuck you, Geffen - and I'm gonna do what I want.' *My* thing is 'Don't fuck with me.' In real life, *real* real life, I'm supersensitive. But people tend to think I'm not vulnerable because I don't act vulnerable." Ä Courtney Love leap of faith þ Sin ùúùúùúùúùúùúù thru your clouded skies that blinded me i lifted up my eyes to see i tried to stand for truth and dignity and trust in the sincerity: of these empty dreams you promised me. you drove me to the edge of sanity with nothing left inside of me you tried to get the best of me it is the worst obscenity: to take another part of me. above a slave world of hypocrisy i'm gonna jump i'm gonna be i won't stoop or crawl on bended knee i'm gonna fly above it all: i'm gonna always be just me. this euphemistic "flexibility" this capitulation to "society" well i've always believed in honesty and now that i've clawed my way up i can see: with broken wings you're never free. you took the very best of me no way to even up this score nothing left but one more thing here's the bloody rest of me: - don't find the time to cry for me don't find the words to speak for me don't find the nerve to feel for me just get the fuck away from me- leap of f lying thru the clouds - they're all around a nd everything is rushing up - the world is falling down i 'll never feel the pain - i'll never hear the sound t hundering like a bolt of pure lucidity h eadfirst into a dawning sky of blue eternity . Lie þ Maryjane@CWK ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú i love your lies oh they are so beautiful vibrant stories ancient security their warmth wraps around me hold me closer whisper in my ear they dance around the room i love your lies oh the way i can see through them plastic thoughts rubber soul dont let go your gentle touch is soothing let me kiss you hold my lips and laugh i love your lies "I may lie a lot, but never in my lyrics." Ä Courtney Love march of the dead þ Sin ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù we do not cry but we have forgotten how to laugh we do not kneel but we have no strength to stand we do not surrender but we have lost the war of life do you hear the marching drums? what are we to do? across an endless battlefield of gray faceless names of pain arrayed lovers, sisters, brothers strangers to each other and strangers to ourselves pale shadows reaching out to one another mere shadows of our former selves do you hear the marching drums? what are we to do? across the river of forget... is it there the answer lies out of the ticking hands of time perhaps there deliverance lies beyond a funeral vault of hellish skies i hope and pray a heaven lies do you hear the marching drums? what are we to do? what is to come of us tish, black star, and goob when our death wishes have come true when there is nothing left when there is nothing more to do and what will make it right when everything is wrong and where are we to go when everything is gone what are we to say when everything is said where will we find ourselves when it is by the lost that we are led and we move to the silent heartbeat of the drums of the marching dead? Missing You þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúù It took six years... Six long years after she left me... Part of me... closed itself off - Shut out and hidden to the outer world, I thought it to be lost forever; Thought she had stolen it from me. But then, *you* came along - unexpectedly. I was made whole again... The missing puzzle piece, you filled that part of me up And set me free. Riding in with your cascading curls I finally felt fulfilled... But as soon as you left my presence - consumed by the night, the clouds rolled in ominously and covered half my joy, half my sunshine - in total obscurity. But...together... Together, life was made a fun game Holding hands, side by side Two bitches, joined at the hip - Laughing at the world and its complete absurdity. The love, the music, The emotion, the pain... The games everyone took so seriously... Dammit, why did I meet you so late in life... As soon as we've grown attached, I'm forced to go - my separate way. And I'll live on, not knowing when I'll see you next - when your voice will brighten my day And when my inner cell will be unlocked once more underneath the violet, smoking skies... Who is going to comfort you Who is going to listen to me whine How are those we ridicule going to keep on living... without us...? *Twelve year-old SH heavy metal chicks* Damn you, girl with the beautiful name, I'm going to miss you... And *sigh* I'm going to miss that part of me... More Than Life þ Ben Hoogterp ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú "I love you more than life itself!" she said. And though I'm sure she spoke to me in truth, I'll always have to wonder what it meant, For in that very night that she had spoke, She went and put a bullet in her head. "I used to be able to talk to Kurt more, wherever he is. But now he's gone. I used to feel like mourning him was really selfish because it would make him feel guilty. And the best thing to do was to pray for him and show him joy, so he could feel the vibration of joy. But now I know he's dissipated, and he's gone. There's not anything left. Not even to talk to." Ä Courtney Love No Way Out þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùú Knock, knock, knocking... Upon opening each door, It never fails... It happens to be the wrong one. Constantly erring, Constantly making mistakes, No matter which path I pick - No matter which gateway I choose - Each destination points downward, Each drop, a pit of hell, Each retried attempt ends in misery, and every try eventually fails. Some day the sun will stop shining; Every day the sun sets. Like my own trials of many dawns and dusks, Inevitable is that repetitive darkness... Wandering forever in this maze of doors, I will never find the true way out... Doomed to have each new hope - crushed... to pieces, I am chained in the links of despair, Locked within the cage of self-ruin... I will never get out, I will never escape... I will never fly free. "Sometimes I wish I could hop into a time machine and go back to my younger self and say, 'Hey, man, it's all right; you'll be doing fine, and it'll happen sooner than you know it.' I was so scared then, but I am now who I set out to be then... It's good to be your own king..." Ä Mycroft Pain þ Soul Eater ùúùúùúùúùúùú putting yourself in pain is rather easily achieved. enjoying this sensation is an altogether different reality. i'll let you figure that one out. there is physical pain and emotional pain. i don't think there is mental pain, because through my entire somewhat lax and regrettable life, i've never suffered mental pangs from overthinking. physical pain has varying degrees of anguish. some people can control and maintain their very nerves that react to this type of stimuli. I think twisting your ankle is much different than jumping off a building and twisting your ankle. fear mixed with pain is rather harsh, one thing that usually is not a feeling well thought upon. i'm rambling on, so i'll get more on track. do not be afraid to do something because you fear the sensation of pain. no matter how bad the pain is, it actually goes away rather quickly. the first couple of seconds of pain is actually overblown by your own mental capabilities. if you just stop and try to breathe normally, the sensation regresses quite substantially. controlling the effects of pain is another thing. self-control is a big part of it. i can endure extreme pain, but i usually break out into a cold sweat. i just realized there is no plot whatsoever or purpose to this entire message. i'll move on now. emotional pain i think is worse than the harshes of physical pain. it sticks in your mind, haunting every living second of your existence. you make an effort not to think about it, but it's always there, right in focus. mental anguish at its worse - mix in a little guilt, a nice heaping helping of depression and loneliness - you've got neural torture to last you the rest of your life. somehow, this is the situation i've ended up in. over the past week, i've figured out my entire family should seek psychiatric help because we're all dysfunctional. i figured out i have no idea where my life is leading, i sometimes forget my own name because i'm tottally confused. i'm going insane and to top it all off, i'm typing under two blankets so my parents don't hear me typing. i'm losing it. i'm losing it. what the hell is this message supposed to be about? i don't know anymore. mental anguish, i've got it. physical anguish, easily obtained. definitely take the latter before even considering tasting the prior. "If you're never scared nor embarrassed nor hurt, it means you never take any chances." Ä Julia Soul perfect þ Sin ùúùúùúù perfect little job wrapped in cold electric black tied with little colored wires that could never be traced back perfect little charge packed inside a pipe of lead as troubled as the dreams trapped inside a screaming head perfect little touch for the hurt held deep inside blooming like a flower of flame for the burnt out life inside perfect little hole for a soul betrayed by fate for a perfect little boom from a plastic explosive hate perfect little twist of a key in the ignition for a lifeless little spark charred beyond all recognition perfect gift of pain on a burning road of dreams nothing to show and no evidence to remain just a twisted hulk of metal and a perfect little stain... Phoenix þ Drucilla B. Blood ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù The anxious whisper that is your voice becomes a cat call Wooing me Spiraling downward Into you I want to write our names together in the snow Or on the mailbox of a small hacienda in Phoenix Both of us barefoot and pregnant with youth To give you candy cane kisses and fetch the dawn in skirted bliss (how glad I am) Snaking through shadows Something on fire draws me nearer and nearer We burn there together. "Some of Kurt's ashes will be buried in a public cemetery, some are underneath the Buddha in my bedroom, some are in the altar in the living room, and some more of Kurt - not a great amount - is in India, being made into a stupa. For the stupa, you get to pick a place and a deity. The place I picked is Nirvana, and the deity is a minor god. He's a small man, and he has this really large diamond that he's holding, and the diamond is so big that it keeps knocking him over. The diamond is far too heavy a burden for him." Ä Courtney Love Poetry Corner þ Radhika Gajjala ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù At the book store browsing poetry corner Indulge, Bask words float, they swim, they dance and sink deep into my Being Great Literature? what do i Know? i smell a Body standing nearby Browsing too perhaps. am SelfConscious Panic suppose i know him her or.... Am known? i sigh with relief as the Brief moment of the other's presence passes. no more physical. As the body looks to other shelves for illumination (?) Imagined conversation then intrudes what if - "Do you know the Latest By...." "He's the Greatest" but why? "She writes with Skill such Metaphors, Oxymorons too..." "Remember those words ...." [blah blah blah] no i don't. poetry i don't quote to show my Knowledge of words or Skill i care only for it If it makes me Feel. The feel is all i have left when the words evaporate a feel i wish would flow from the depth of my... soul (?) through the tips of my fingers when i write i wish. I wish. To Feel and make you feel. if only i could. "A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be at peace with himself. What a man can be, he must be." Ä Abraham Maslow Questions, Motivations, And Questions Of Motivations þ Chameleon ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú My life has no meaning. I only strive to exist so that my fears of nothingness may be at peace. I seek understanding of why I should continue to adapt to the laws and traditions of society's functions. I question the certainty of many, those who have focused their lives on the world that is encompassing them versus the contemplation of their inevitable death. Mankind functions to provide not meaning but the escape from contemplating his meaning, that may not exist at all. When one is certain of particulars, how can one question the utter realism or meaning of such particulars? Has man escaped the quest for truth, for with it comes a stifling depression led by a state of utter confusion? Has man deluded himself to the point that he must participate in this story known as life without questioning its primary reasons? How can we continue to function without purpose? Must faith and beliefs always substitute for the underlying confusion of our daily lives? What drives men to the belief in certain particulars? Why focus on certain elements of the Universe when the meaning of the Universe itself is not understood? How can I continue to exist without understanding why? Why must an inward fear of inevitable death and meaninglessness be my motivator versus a will toward accomplishment? Why I am so unique as to endlessly question others' motives? Why must they continue a road to death without stopping and wondering why? I am the center of all things; everything is for me; all things serve me. All that is important is how I am, who I am, what I am, and essentially why I am. The Universe is here for me; it exists to be the slave of my wits and intelligence. Reality is what I perceive; reality is in my mind; without me, reality would not be. The Universe is possibly infinite in nature yet it is finite in my head. Supposing it is infinite, all objects are relative to the subjective center; therefore I am the center! Reality is a mere reflection of my perceptions and delusions. How must I find what reality is when reality itself has no measurable basis? Am I reality? I seek no pleasure, I seek no love, I seek no power - for all these things are mere diversions from a hopeless existence soon to become nothingness. My hopes are from fears of an existence without understanding. I fear my loss of self, for without me, reality is nothing, and I am nothing. Seed þ Slayer@ZON ùúùúùúùúùúùú Inside here it's warm and cozy No one comes around to bother me They get closer every day I can hear the voices Can't make out what they say When the darkness falls the voices fade Silence Sweet, divine No more voices Only mine I live in a grape I hang from a vine My only fear is being turned into wine. It's growing colder every night I'm getting bigger, tender, and ripe But I fear something Is not right They're here for me now They're in my sight I have no weapons or tools to fight Silence Sweet, divine No more voices Not even mine Killed and raped Torn from the vine My soul is now suspended in time Fermenting slowly, in a bottle of wine. terminal þ Sin ùúùúùúùú somebody turn off this head somebody turn off this pain somebody turn off the machine that plugs me into this brain some body somebody kill off this hurt somebody shut down this rage somebody tell me my crime that keeps me locked in this cage some body somebody let me go free somebody give me the key to all the heavenly things that never opened up here for me some body somebody make it all stop somebody make it all bleed somebody burn it all up so it won't have a carcass to breed some body somebody bury it deep somebody put it to sleep somebody nail down the lid on these dead hopes that i keep please somebody... "When we decided we were in love at the Beverly Garland Hotel, we found this dead bird. Took out three feathers. And he said, 'This is for you, this is for me, and this is for the baby we're gonna have.' And he took one of the feathers away." Ä Courtney Love There Will Come A Time þ Angel Alice ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Today you strike me, I falter and fall, Prostate at your feet. Rage eradicating tears of pain before they form. I turn my head, and you do not see my face, Twisted into lines of hatred that any fool could read. When I turn back, it is blank, and does not betray me. I tilt my chin upward, oh! ever so slightly! My proud black eyes stare into yours, unblinking, unfrightened. We both know who is stronger, inside. (for there is nothing stronger than anger, except what keeps it in; that's stronger) And this knowledge drives you mad; insane! Yes, your face is distorted with this hatred, hatred for yourself, Although yu mistakenly assume it is I you are beating. The bruises will fade away... they will not leave a scar. But the memories will always be there. Hidden away in that pretty picture window inside my head. You will have forgotten by morning, won't you? It doesn't matter. Because there will come a time when you will fall at MY feet. When you will look at me with respect, instead of hatred. This will not be tomorrow, no. Tomorrow, you will strike again, And I will look at you and laugh silently at you, you weak fool! Biding my time, saving my strength. Until the time when I am strong enough to challenge you. And then you will fear me, because it is then that you know I will triumph. And you will know that it was you that was weak and I that was strong. Yes, there will come a time. Truth By Elimination þ Chameleon ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú The ultimate and technical solution to any problem is elimination. Elimination is the means to truth. All that is false is subjective, and all that is subjective is uncertain. A proposed problem implies the need to problem-solve to have a desirable answer or result. A problem is an opinion or value judgment of dissatisfaction, direct or indirect to the source of question; thus, all problems are subjective. The elimination of the problem or source of question absolves the necessity of an objective answer; by problem-solving, that can only be subjectively satisfied. The desire for an objective answer is necessary for the fulfillment or resolution of a deprived state. The self's continuous state of deprivation is primarily from a phenomenal (a subjective perception of) existence seeking to fulfill the deprivation of the uncertainty of being (an objective perception of existence). This deprivation is infinite because the substitutes for the unobtainable state of being are subjective states of satisfaction. These subjective states are only temporary, for one becomes tolerant, or the initial satisfaction diminishes so one has a desire for more substitutes. Most substitutes tend to branch off others; this causes the mind to appear like a tree of extending branches of thoughts each diffusing from the other until all thoughts are diluted into a mass of mindless behavioral reactions and reflexes. The two solutions to deprivation are elimination and substitution. To eliminate deprivation, one may eliminate the element, what is deprived, or eliminate the self. Uncommonly is suicide the valued solution, so one begins to eliminate deprivation of the element by substitution or elimination of the element itself. Often the valued and perhaps only plausible solution is substitution (the elements of substitution or the primary deprivation(s) may be infinite in replication), thus the individual progressively seeks different substitutions for the original deprivation(s). If an awareness of substitution has taken precedence, one may substitute further along an infinite cycle, become compulsive in the desire of eliminating the element itself, or eliminate the self. The greatest substitute for uncertainty is the claim of having the, or means to, truth. By doing so, one has undergone a series of believing in particular absolutes. Since the questioning of such absolutes leads to the uncertainty of the proclaimed truth, the continual enforcement of faith or ignorance is necessary for the constant delusional state of certainty. This enforcement is necessary so that the perceived absolutes may withstand against relativistic and existential philosophies. An example of this situation is Christianity. In this case, we have the necessity of irrevocable beliefs in a particularly conceived God, and the enforcing of such beliefs, with the contrasting evils and wrongs of a morality accompanied with the fear of eternally drastic consequences, is dependent upon one's choice of thought and action. In this context, faith excuses ignorance and faith is a primacy to substitution. In summation, the absolute belief in any particulars requires the denial of the possibility of other particulars being true. This may cause the believer of such particulars to appear biased and narrow-minded. The ultimate solution to deprivation is elimination of the self. The primary state of the self is deprivation. To eliminate this fundamental and possibly incurable state, one must remove the state itself. Since it is inherent in human beings to be primarily motivated by the state of deprivation, the solution is in eliminating the deprivation by eliminating its cause; the cause is the existence of the self and its naturally deprived state of not being. The only true solution is elimination of the self, for the self is a deprived state. In conclusion, though this entire concept is uncertain, the only truth is the phenomenal truth of uncertainty. This may seem paradoxal, but the absolute, objective, truth may be hidden or nonexistent, which is not certain. The outcome of accepting such a paradox, the acceptance being a substitution, is a state of utter confusion followed by a relentlessly haunting depression. "It is unfortunate that we do not feel pangs of ignorance as we feel pangs of hunger." Ä M.J. Adler Undo þ Slayer@ZON ùúùúùúùúùúùú I am no longer inspired My head is worn My body is tired My spirit is torn I keep searching for an answer I'm on the verge of lunacy The answer is not anywhere That ears will hear Or eyes can see I have no reason why This secret stays locked inside of me. This trail has brought me to a fork in the road Only two ways to move Which way will I go? Will I be a man And take the pain Or will I go left And run away For now I'll just drift To the right for awhile Until I find the key I'll move through time Forward I'm starting to believe This love is blind I'll move through time Transcendentalize Life is a journey You cannot rewind. Untitled þ Annoying Man ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú The resplundant black darkness of nothingness inundates into my cadaverous, limpid soul. I am Drowning. I am nothing. The nothing is me. And I am everything. And everything Is nothing. My clairvoyance fails me as this pure, opaque darkness clouds my vision. I am a shipwreck on the empty sea, abandoned by the intrepid sailors who I mesmerized by my seductive big sails. I am tossed by the raging storms of desire that consume my innocent form. I burn. OH yes. I burn. Break me, fuck me, kill me, hate me, Destroy Me. But...I am already destroyed. Ashes to ashes, dust To dust. I will remunerate the Lord of the Sea, who broke me And put me on the Cross of Life. Who will ameliorate this strife of darkness? Are you the one? Or will you exacerbate my bleeding, fucking empty soul. This clandestine murder of my retentive inner child within Me makes me cry. Untitled þ Dark Goob ùúùúùúùúùúù i lost myself in mental feign but i'm found again i often trip and fall on holes myself i make i keep holding on the shovel that is my mistake to rise above the mental low as easy as it is to bear gets clouded by my vision clouds that aren't really there need to find an anchor for the drifting boat can't seal the leaking hull can't stay on course and afloat the anchor line broke a while ago but only now i see the slack better to do something about it now than be forced to swim back but i have a sinking feeling on the wrong course can't live up to what i say and it only will get worse off i go again off to pump the leaky hold but one man is not a crew at least that's what i've been told Untitled þ Egypt ùúùúùúùú Mother As the days go by it seems that being one's daughter is not enough to guarantee love. Nor is being one's mother. We seem more and more to be strangers misreading each others' intent and trusting less and less. Conflicts go unresolved and bad memories creep into dreams like spiders spinning webs to trap our emotions and hold them still. They dangle there waiting for the next hurtful words to flutter and be snared. Words to be trussed, wrapped and saved for trophies - lest they be needed again. I have no magic spell to speak them away - no potion to make them sleep. No mighty sword to sever their webs nor sacred rings to dispell them. I can only feel to save our hearts a distance we should keep. Untitled þ Iyad Ismael ùúùúùúùúùúùúù Sometimes lost in solitary thought, Of the purest levels of sensitivity, I think such thoughts that move my heart With the Joy of feeling and of Memory. I then think of writing those down To remember them later, in an attempt To make the memories last longer, To try to live the Joy again. But then I hear them speak to me - Have pity upon us, Sir, be kind! Do not confine us to a limited space, As your own mortal mind. Let us fly free, that you may still, Seek us, and raise us high - For only then will you find Joy In memories that make you cry. Untitled þ Sin ùúùúùúùú Logic looks like the devil, but has earned his science degree thinks it's fascinating, he's just a heartless half-breed Faith and Hope the stupid sluts, never a clue that something's wrong always dancing to and singing, that stupid do-me do-me song Hate the starving glutton, fills but never satisfies eaten right out of house and home, swollen fat from hurt and lies Anguish the twisted child, gnaws on the bloody stumps of fingers too scared to run away, in too much pain to linger Apathy the deaf and dumb boy, sees it all but cannot speak just sits alone in a dark corner, because his eyes are growing weak Love the faceless corpse, lies chained upon a slab of black hacked to lifeless bloody bits, yet still keeps coming back behind the endless walls of a thousand empty rooms lying in the dusty ruins of a thousand rotten tombs the remains of happiness, the remains of what was free these shattered broken fragments of this thing that once was me. "I have this real obsession with grace. That's the number one thing I look for in a person in the physiological realm. But part of grace is not speaking - like the silent ballerina. I've wondered, after everything that's happened, 'You can change your persona. You can be the silent widow.' But I cannot kill the thing inside of me. That has to be kept alive. Or I will die." Ä Courtney Love Untitled þ Soul Eater ùúùúùúùúùúùú This bowl of ice cream is much too cold for me to hold. The cold stings my hands, but I cannot let go. My fingers are numb, blue with frost. My mind is numb, the ice cream tastes wonderful. This bowl of ice cream is much too big for me to hold. I can barely wrap my arm around it. Maybe I should just set it down and eat it as it makes a cold imprint on the floor. The water that emits from the coldness sticks to the outside of the container, but I don't want to let go. The chilling languid feeling of the ice cream washes smoothly over my searching tongue. I eat and shove spoonful after spoonful of this wonderfully fattening processed milk product into my waiting mouth. I eat faster and faster, the whole back of my head hurts like goddamn hell! My brain freezes, my tongue is numb. I drool out of the corner of my mouth. I still have a lot of ice cream left. I still want to eat it! Oh goddamn, I stick my head into the container, chewing the soft ice cream. The bitter cold gives away as my face presses further and further into the container. My face stings, a thousand tiny pins stick into it as my nerves go overload! I love this goddamn ice cream! I brace myself on the edges of the container as my face gobbles down mouthful after mouthful of gob! My head is exploding, bright white spots appear in my vision. It feels like I've been sucking slurpee through a straw for thirty minutes non-stop. If you've drank slurpee like I've drank slurpee, you'll know what excruciating pain I am feeling. My hands are slipping, oh, what the hell. I release and let my body lean over to this container. My mouth still a moving, chewing orifice. I love this goddamn ice cream! I feel myself slipping over the edge. I put my hands inside the container to try to brace myself from tipping in, but the soft, wet, cold mass gives away easily. I fall into the container. I'm immersed in ice cream. This is so great. I'm upside-down inside a container full of ice cream. I feel myself sliding downwards, my body working with gravity as I keep falling in. I keep eating, eating hordes and hordes of this delicious ice cream. I'm still sinking inside this ice cream. I don't care. I have all this ice cream to eat. My entire body is within the container and buried under ice cream down. It is very cold. It's colder than jumping into the ocean in the middle of the night, butt-naked. I'm shivering uncontrollably, my appendages wiggling. A seizure takes control, but my mouth is working fine. I'm still eating this delicious ice cream. Its so cold though, but this delectable smooth food is still traveling down my gullet. I think I've had enough ice cream now...but it's too late. I'm trapped inside a large neverending container of ice cream. I'm slowly traveling downward...toward hell. I'm moving ever so slowly. At this rate, it'll take me forever to get to hell. Might as well keep eating this delicious ice cream. I love this goddamn ice cream. "Do not operate heavy equipment with your head submerged in this liquid for extended periods of time." Ä Warning on a bottle of spring water Untitled (2) þ Soul Eater ùúùúùúùúùúùú More sadness. Again I sit in this chair. Four wheels attached to a cross, holding up a plush, not very comfortable resting place. I spend more time in this than not. I think deep thoughts that come out all wrong. I cry out in agony at the grave injustices, at my deprived life. All the things that don't go my way, all the things I wish for. All my dreams shattered when she left. Who am I kidding? She was never mine. I was wrong. Once I had thought she felt something for me, but that was just a glimmer. A faint afterthought. I cried when she left, she looked back and laughed. How pathetic I was, she said. Just look at yourself, she said. I can't believe I've stayed here so long, she said. The bitterly cold thrashing she left in her wake. I remained sitting in the middle of the room, watching the door that wouldn't close. My shoulders hunched over, my face in my hands. Barely I could contain all my emotions. 'Til the end, they just poured out. Not sadness, but more hate. I don't need any more hate, but more appeared. Angry sobbing wracked my body as I stared out the door once again. One last grasp at what I had wished for all my life. She was gone, the light outside was empty. My eyes could not adjust to the sun that shined its uncaring offspring onto the earth. I sat there a long time, I think I left my soul there. An empty shell I stood up. My face lined with streaks of leftover pain. A deep dull emptiness inside me, hard to breathe. So tired...so tired. Thoughts of ending everything and all flashed through my perception, she'd be sorry if I did that. No wait, she wouldn't. I am so sad...I am so sad. Don't you understand? Ragged gasps came as the aftershock of my torn rantings came back fullspeed. Life is harder to live now. She had eased this harsh world, giving to me what she could offer. Her special gift at making me happy. She is not a bad person, I thought. But I still hate her more because of it. Looking around for something to abide my time, there is nothing. I fall into manic depression, sitting by the window watching as the sky turned dark, bright twinkling shone out. The clouds moved, but not as I could perceive them. Time grew slow, it was day again. I sat there for many days, 'til I fell into a semi-conscious sleep. There were no dreams, but I would wake up screaming; death did not want to claim me. I fell off the ledge onto the floor. I tried to get to watch one more sunset, but I was too weak. I closed my eyes and I died. All the memories forgotten, all my worries taken care of. And most importantly, she was not there.... "Hate has a reason for everything. But love is unreasonable." Ä V. Raiuhes Ahaefvthe What Rap Music Makes Me Write þ Soul Eater ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Silence. The room is silent. I am once again alone. The phone does not ring, and I wait. Hoping...wishing for a break in the silence. I hear my heart beating. It beats slowly, my hands tremble. The heaviness of the silence bears down on my mind, I thrash wildly inside. There is no escape, I cannot leave. I am stuck here in this void. The books are stacked in front of me, the radio at my side. I turn it on, noise comes out, I don't hear any of it. When I'm like this, none of the songs are good songs. I don't know any of the words. I am still waiting for the phone to ring, where are all my friends? They are with others, they have forgotten me. I pace madly within the confines of this square chamber. Three steps and I have to turn around, and three more. My hands grasp and grab at my hair. They pull in frustration, my eyes wide in anticipation. My patience grinding and tearing my blood-rimmed eyes. Hate rages in my stomach, a hot burning sensation floods my body. Tingling spreads thereafter. I jump around my room, making the echo that tells me I am still alone. I take out a pen, scribble furiously on many pieces of paper. I stab through the sheets, no blood comes out. How easy it is to tear through that stack...how easy it would be to just force it through my head. It would enter in a second, penetrating spongy matter. The pen would enter through my temple, get lodged four inches horizontally into my cranium. I would drop, blood would be all over. My body slumped back into the chair. The pen sticking straight out the side of my head. If I were able, I'd pull it back out, stuff some Kleenex in the newly-formed hole in my head. I would bang my head as hard as I could against the white textured walls. The blood would mark my passing as I rush outside. I take a butter knife from the kitchen and run outside! Ahhh, there's that girl that lives down the street. All thoughts of love, sex, relationship forgotten. Come here girl, I have something to show you. I violently shove the pen through her orb, pull it back out. Screams echoing in the back of my mind as I shove it through her chest. Leave her there in the middle of the road. I'd drop the knife and head toward the beach. I run, my lungs explode after a few minutes of hard running. I don't stop. The aching builds up 'til I cannot stand it. But I do. I make to the blue ocean, the white shifting sands below. There are many people here. Many many victims yet to be handled. There is a little boy on the beach. How easy it would be to wrap my hands around his puny neck and strangle and break! I move on. She lies there. Golden tanned body, scantily clad. I want to break her violently, furiously! I can't, I don't know how. A radio lays beside her. I grab the radio and raise it above my head! She starts saying something to me, I don't care. I slam the radio into her and the radio stops its music. I kick her many times, the blood is all over my feet. Her face, dripping from the massive wound that gapes from it. Many substances that used to be contained within is all over the sand. I move on. I don't think anyone noticed. What happened to all the people? Where are now? I don't know. I'm tired, and its hot. I'm going to go home. I am perfectly normal. Why I Cried þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúù As I held you tightly against my skin And felt your love ebb through me, All past pain and sorrow felt Made me realize how much I loved you I stopped and looked into your eyes - So blue, and yet, so heavenly I wondered why we put ourselves Through all of the unnecessary torture, Through the endless and vicious cycle of anguish "What's wrong?" you ask endearingly And they turn to limpid pools of care Of true and deep concern... and worry How could I have doubted That innocent, beautiful look of love How could I have said Those awful things I said How could we have treated each other Like enemies... The pain flows out, the emotion takes over I cannot restrain myself And in your arms, I feel at home As you kiss my tears away The shoulder shows itself, And I feel myself letting go...completely I become your lover, your friend, your child All at the very same time I would never trade this for anything else Ever again. "Imagine this: You're peaking. You're in your youth. At the prime of your life. The last thing you want to be is a symbol for heroin use. You've finally met somebody of the opposite gender who you can write with. That's never happened before in your life. The only other person you could ever write with wasn't as good a writer as you, and this person's a better writer than you. And you're in love, you have a best friend, you have a soul-fucking-mate, and you can't even believe it's happening in your lifetime. AND, as a bonus, he's beautiful. AND he's rich. AND he's a hot rock star to boot. AND he's the best fuck that ever walked. AND he wants to have babies, and what you want is babies. You've wanted to have babies forever. AND he understands everything you say. AND he completes your sentences. And he's lazy, but he is spiritual, and he's not embarrassed about praying, he's not embarrassed about chanting, he's not embarrassed about God, Jesus, none of it. He fucking thinks it's all really cool. He wants to fucking learn the path. He wants to be enlightened. Everything. And there's even room for you to fix him, which you like, 'cause you're a fixer-upper. He's perfect in almost every fucking way. The only fucking happiness that I ever had. "And then it gets taken away..." Ä Courtney Love ßÜ ÜßÜÝÜßÜ ßÜÞÜß Ü Ü Üß Ü ÜßÜ ÝÜßÜß ÜßÜßÜ ßÜßÜ ÜßÜßÞÜß ÜßÜ Ü ßÜÜßÜß ßÜßÜÜß Ü ßÜßÜÝÜßÜß ÜßÜ ßÜ ßÜ ß ßÜßÜß Üß Ü Ü ßÜÝÜß Üß ÜßÜ ßÜÜßÜßÜ Üßßß Üß Û Ü ÜßßÜÞ ÜßÜß Ü ßÜßÜÜ ßÜß Üß ßÜÜß Üß Ü ßßÜßÝßÜß ÜÜ ßÜßßÜ ß Üß ÜßßÜÜß ÜßßÜ ßÝß ÜßÜ ßÜßßÜ ß Üß ÜßßßÝÜß ÜÜßÜÞÜßÜß ÛÞßßÜ ß ß ÜÜßÜßÜß ÜßÜÞÜß ÜßÜÝßÜÜß Ü Üßßßß ßÜßÝÜßÜÜßÜß Ü Ü Ü Ü ßÜ ßÜ ßÜßßßÜÜßÝÜÛßÜßÜÜß Üß Üß Üß Ü ßÜßÜ ßÜÜßÜßÜßÜßÜßÜÜÛÛÛÜßßÜßÜßÜßßßÜÜß ÜßÜß ßÜßÜßÜßÜßßÜ ßÜ ßÜßÜß ß Ý ß ßÜ ßÜßÜ ßÜßÜßÜßßÜ ÜßßÜßÜ ßÜßÜ ßÜ ß Þ ß ß ß ß ß Ý Ý Þ ß Legalize. ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Submit your original literary works for Spilled Ink, [volume three], to Twilight. Actual Reality: (512) 873-1900 (to Green Hell) After Ours: (512) 320-1650 (to Twilight) Ice Castle: (713) 722-5400 (to Twilight) Liberty: (800) 474-1818 (to Alaskan Twilight) telnet liberty.com Or by Internet e-mail: twilight@mail.utexas.edu ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù