Divine SelectivityThere is something palliative about the distant crash of waves on an alizarin flecked shore, minutes before sundown. A popular spot for weary bones at week's end, the idle conglomerates palaver in the sand, heartily deriding the merciless salty body behind them. Smiles tuck back their cheeks and their fingers stretch forward. They emphasize every belittling syllable. The shore is constant mockery; the ocean's censured hands roll with relentless fervor over her sandy borders in an attempt to silence the sunshine juveniles. But her reach falls short with the receding hour. The stories progress. Dusky recollections around seawood beach firDivine Selectivity
Understanding. . .The Society and its functions are far too pestilent to be left in the hands of naïve and benighted men. For ages, its potential has been scorned by wearied and fearful leaders. Two decades have I sat and watched the gradual deterioration of this city. I have never been catastrophe’s harbinger, but if our hierarchy refuses to implement immediate and drastic change, I will be forced to seize control. The Society’s implosion is otherwise inevitable. . .Understanding
The young man’s long finger bones were covered in taut pale flesh, and locked together, tips at each others knuckles. He sat crooked in his chair, with a slu
the night won't save anyoneLife. It is such a trite thing. Everyone has one. There is, you see, no such thing as a unique one. When it comes right down to it, humanity is composed of writhing, scraping, vile, twisted creatures that hide behind their righteous morals, silly material possessions, and phantasms of individuality. People are the same under the correct circumstances. Otherwise, their dark brutality lurks constantly beneath the thin, vulnerable walls of easily carved flesh and simply snapped bones, creating the illusion that “decency” exists. It does not. I can prove it. I’m about to prove it. Again. I press my teeth down intothe night won't save anyone
From The Desk Of...The more I think of him, the worse I become. I know I'm not the best mother in the world, but I'm not the worst. Kaden deserves better than the hand life has dealt to him. I want to give him the childhood I was deprived of thanks to my father’s reputation. Not that mine is any better; I just have a better way of hiding myself while in the public eye. I think by now the group knows that talk of Ice is strictly forbidden around me. Whether it’s positive or negative, I have no desire to listen to any of it. His death has left me traumatized beyond belief, and the thought of what is no longer mine tears me apart. I grew up wFrom The Desk Of...
What It MeansI would die for him. D-I-E, die die die. Live no more. End it all. Push up some daisies, kick the bucket. I've got a million of them, but I'll stop. This is supposed to be serious, and if I keep listing euphemisms for dying it'll stop being serious. Or maybe it already has. What's the point of being serious anyway? Just to impress some other smartasses, that's what I think. For a grade, for approval. All the good fake shit.What It Means
Thinking back, this is probably why I flunked English. I don't really mean it. If I could read better, I'd probably like the more complex shit people write. It's sort of art. I like to think of it as sort of a
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