I feel like I don't really have anything in common sometimes, here.
  
  when I was a kid, I realized I could never prove that anyone else "thought." As far as I know (or can prove), I am the only real thinking human.
  
  I check the mirror often, and right before you look in the mirror you wonder if your face is still the same. The mirror and every photograph I have ever seen could all be lying. I don't know what my face looks like. I doubt. When you're not looking at a mirror, your face could look like anything. You don't know.
  
  It's my face. But is it me? 
  
  panic strikes again
  so i beat my heart into submission
  wrangle my feelings into a straightjacket
  as tears slide down my metal face
  Anomie, dear. Anomie.
  
  I got a will an 9 mil
  When this is all over, we will party in Terrorist Town
  If laughter is medicine then I will live forever
  They call me Cegorrach
  
  Pessimism is an infectious disease
  rarely used for its medicinal qualities
  Do you have SAD?
  I don't know, do you have angery?
  
  Patient: I'm having dreams of my mom with a massive futa cock
  Therapist: Hmm have you been reading HolyHeart?
  Patient: Yea I miss him so much.
  Therapist: Me too man, me too.
  
  We should all be so lucky as to die in a nuclear fire.
  
  This site is not real.
  We are both dead.
  You still take me seriously.
  Fuck off, and go fuck your high horse too. Publicly.
  
  I am hurting today, I am supposed to feel better tomorrow.
  "It's just a mood."
  Your existence is just a mood.
  God will change his mind tomorrow.
  
  RAPE NANCY PELOSI
  and get me a Coke while you're at it.
  
  I'm not hurting, you're hurting, you're just projecting onto these words. What? Taking me at face value? What a stupid mistake, I should kick you in the balls for CARING about some stupid anonymous blog. "Hey, look, I'm such a C00l HAx0r in da SMOL NET"
  why don't you go delete yourself :)
  
  All the sins I've committed
  will come back to haunt me
  like old lovers
  in my dreams and my
  fading conscience
  as I depart this 
  world for a better one,
  as nostalgia
  for childish mistakes.
  
  I am consistent in my me-ness
  Maybe not in your expectations.
  If I offend you, I'm sorry for making you feel something
  but not for what I said. I meant it. I AM it. It is me.
  
  !--
  Lay the cold steel against my cheek
  embrace the stilling warmth
  forsaken reality cries out and echoes far away
  
  I follow the sun's path, searing across the sky, tracing its arc each day, (like roller skates)
  I measure my place not by the hours on my wrist but by the shadows etched on the ground
  The clocks have melted, the ashes have fallen
  like angels, and stardust before them
  Every night I die.
  Every day I am reborn.
  the late hours form the early morning -- I cheat death and its brother
  in senseless darkness I am washed over by deja vu.
  
  I can't tell the late hours from the early ones. Even the moon can't help me.
  
  Crashing over the boundary of night
  clumsily gallop with the eyes of a newborn
  disown my inheritance
  of phoenix death and ambrosia.
  
  Does time repeat, or is history linear? 
  Is everything a 0 or a 1?