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The corridors were slim, lined with the deceased resources that marked the lands of conquest.

A slim figure arose from the shadows which marked the entrance and portal into the outside world which was so often though about.

"Do you come with the desire to kill?"

The figure answered back lethargically "I come with an intent to know of the desire to kill."

"Allow this man bread and wine."

It was on that day that a man had walked across the deserts and into the halls of old.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
"THE JOURNALS OF A MAN"

The sky was a blazingly distant and dark thing for me that day. A blessing from the gods long forgotten. I looked upon them and saw in plain writing the different forms of life, and as well I saw my reflection being inflected upon itself with dim stature. I was a dwarf within this dwarfed figure of unity and dissension. Pax and discord, the disfigured corpse of ancient empires of man and the dissonant cacophony of the yelling of the cicada. Squabbles of fire in the emptiness we as a species think of as space. A breakdown of confusion in which no life can be held but unity can be sustained, we think of them as the other planets. The others. The ones from which no thing can be thoroughly conflicted yet nothing will ever reflect upon.
I looked back down, and then finally away from myself all together. These are the sudden outbursts of thought I must go through now. There was no drug or activity I could partake in. I wanted life and the brusque opportunity it can give me. I didn't want responsibilities, let alone to be programmed. I see it every day. I see the dull glazes in the eyes of those who have been trained to think certain ways. They can only think with the logic the others gave them. This is what I try to avoid and I escape it through my lack of concentration.
I would like to look up at the faces of some of the girls and point out the things they do that are put on. I would like to tell them that their grade in this class means nothing considering they are dirt for a piece of unity blanketed inside nothing. Can you find meaning in this life? Yes, you can convince yourself of it. You can convince yourself of others ways. They need to stop that, alone. They need to find their own ways and not the others. If they could do this they'd find the real way. I wish to not be heaved into what others want, but I am. I am human.
This is a short summarization of but only a few things I would like to think about constantly but cannot. Must of all I would to discuss someday this introspection and see if the people around me can dissect their very soul as easily as I can. I live in bias and I know it. Revel in it and you will find your tastes. Drink it and you will taste your grave. Lower your head into it so it can burn off your hair. Swim upon it and you will drown in it's depth. If other people can look into these things I know for sure man is doomed. Make this be a deciding factor, tonight I will most likely die.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Stop that"

"I come with the gifts of labor, you will find strength in my commanding."

"Find a courageous man among you so I can slaughter him easily."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN TWO MEN

"Allow me to find myself pink and tingled"

"Break free of your tangerines and allow your ankles to widen with greed"

"Break open your skull and have fun with it"

"Don't open the door at night for the rapist always hunts"

"No me importa"

"Foolish you are for it then"

"Foolish you are for my death is marked by the slaughter of innocent"

"I take it as a bargain and not as a warrant"

"Take it as you will for reality affects the outside and later seeps to the in"

"The hermetic live only for the glow of avoiding such"

"Then you surely will die a bigger fool than I"

Disobeying my master would result in severe punishment (something so terrible I won't even write it here). He wasn't all bad though. Some days he would wake up in a good mood, and after preparing his breakfast, I would sit by the window with him, observing the other members of his species. Going into shops with signs I can't read, walking up to stations and refilling dark containers. It was days like these I truly felt happy, despite being away from my family and friends and everything familiar to me.

Now I have to build up courage to walk in tall grass, to make my way through bushes. I used to not even think about it, but I'm heavier now. Weighed down and black on the inside from all of the pressure. When you're young you have a certain amount of time to enjoy things before the pressure sinks in. You're forever born into a certain pair of clothes and they get less and less comfy as time goes on. It's like when you put cotton candy in your mouth and before you know it it's gone. You think about the taste, you almost feel like you can taste it again, but it is never as intense as it was the first time.

The day when everybody in my neighborhood turned into glass sculptures I wasn't even that upset. I didn't know what to do with all of the furniture. There was a ton of it and I was excited to have it, but I wasn't getting any ideas on what to actually do with it. At first being alone was fun, but after a few days I started to feel like I was in danger for some reason. There were no lawn mowers, no dogs barking, no cars driving by. I always felt like something was creeping up on me. While preparing meals in the kitchen I couldn't keep my eye off the dark hallway. I hid under my covers at night. I walked to town and saw actual people. I didn't tell anybody about what had happened in my neighborhood. I was selfish and wanted the privacy, the extra room. Why did I need it though? All of my time was spent being paranoid, looking over my shoulder. I was afraid to admit it: I was getting lonely. I finally told a few people. Close friends. I told them to come home with me, live in some of the houses. All of the utilities still worked fine, the electricity, the plumbing, the air conditioning. It was like living out some weird daydream.

~~~ //// ~~~

The princess treaded lava filled water as she watched the diamond-like eyes of the indians dancing the prairie nigger dances on rich white men as they die. She enjoyed the show but lacked proper knowledge of the polyrhythmic words the hunters shared for her. She ran from the area with the sun beaming on her back and she arrived in a small land unlike that she was used to. The indians continued to bleed for their own imaginations and the blood continued to produce the trees. A wild forest was made and it spanned from sea to sea. Eventually it reached the great golden city and there was where the princess dwelled. The city invested it's own entrails with blood diamonds and savage animals. Wolves climbed the vegetation and trees and made their way onto the starry sky. They merged and touched each other, and created the night sky. When the gold doesn't shine from the city the wolves crazy orgy is revealed, night. The trees swelled the gates and the masters of old scripture gave up on discovering a plausible cure. Their bones were frail and weak and the savage men roamed free. Indians took their land and gold and with it made their own empire upon bones and meat. Northern men came in form the mountains and stole from the indians, and the princess cried the golden cities into oceans. The gold was rusty now and the indians were tired. Old men gave way to youth and youth grew old and gave way again. Few survived the tense wars between the fairy children and the diamond goblins of the forest but the survivors grew hesitant for what they would discover upon their arrival into other free lands. They carried the bones of the dead on their backs and travelled to the cities of health and youth. There they gathered up the people of virtue and burned them, eating their rusted and boiled skins. No peaceful man remained in the world and no one mourned it. The wolves of the night gave up their gypsy orgies and the youth of night itself crumbled. Day was rusted and old and twilight, uncertainty itself, ruled. Plants gave way to the coldness and the surviving warriors ate their own meat. Upon rediscovery by alien men they were figured into caves and chased down to rivers. Men carried their bones on their backs and sailed down the rivers. The savages had left the world. The Golden Roman Men made settlement upon the dried and boiled skin of the dead and made shelter upon the rusted gold of day. The Men made ancient scriptures of magic and unleashed upon the sky a healing ray. The sky grew golden and youthful and the wolves came out from hiding and vigorously climbed to the heavens. Princes chased the stars higher and higher and they themselves had their ashes spread through the cosmos. Their blood is written in the sky and so is the blood of many others. The bones of the savages are written in the sky as well, seen at dusk. The meat of the weak was launched into the golden day, and grew old and moldy, creating clouds of old, only to deteriorate more over time. These clouds are written in the sky. The wine of the spoiled is also written in the sky. Drunkenly poured onto it's gold by the fools. The spoiled's stains are in the sky. This story is in the sky as well, written out in ancient scriptures from the city of gold, melded into itself upon it's boiling and scratching. These eyes are the sky, and this mouth is the sky's writing.