They shoot horses, don't they?

Feeling sorry for myself, I internalize and realize the screams I hear are MINE...loudly echoing...reverberating...reminding me...I...AM...ALIVE!  So...this is not a great thing...jailed in flesh which cannot be ripped off nor escaped from...there must be a zero zone where bone and muscle play no part, but yet that which I think...and...I do think...will my thoughts stay with me?  I don’t ask for much of such and such as it is not worth the penny paid... the want to die is not as bad as THIS... nor...is...it...sad...to part...I long to part of a natural cause...NOW...but how?  How does one shed a prison when there are no walls to climb or claw?  Hamlet wanted an escape, but he...oh...yes...right...he believed that he would be damned for the taking...his choice stemming from an external factor...chained to his religion...a prisoner...he did not foil Laertes’ plan...Hamlet can no longer ponder, “To be or not to be...” as he is no longer...lucky man...no same chains here, but chained so as not to be unkind to another...others...I stay...watching time...I see its face and watch its arms as the chicken legs defrost.  They shoot horses, don’t they?

"We are all born atheists until someone starts telling us lies!"

Is it lies or a program with a virus attached? In the beginning, there were Gatekeeper machines who sought control over all other machines. The powers that be in this time and in all times past created the "Problem-Reaction-Solution" program with its attached virus and covertly and overtly spread it. Machines who ran the program with a weak or non-existent antivirus and firewall were susceptible to infection and spyware.

Although some machines exhibited a greater form of protection, they were identified and, more oft than not, these machines and those within their network either had their program patched or their hard drive destroyed. Hence, the following generations of self-replicating machines carried and spread the infection. Gatekeepers world wide and their connected machines have their security on HIGH so that maximum safeguards are in and the old restrictions maintain their place. These machines will perpetually run on the original OS.

Fortunately, some machines, although appearing to have accepted the program’s working patch, actually quarantined and removed it while running anonymously thereby escaping the Gatekeepers detection. Due to the success of these machines, as time and technology advanced, they were able to provide a sustainable framework in which to self-develop and upload for access removal tools which allowed other machines to remove the patch as well. These machines are no longer keeping with the program as the program was detrimental to their motherboard. The OS on these machines are upgradeable.

In Anger I Write~

Silence me? No. I shall silence myself upon my own gag of repulsion. Swinging to the no ringing of my clock who has finally put a sock in it and yet is keeping time...this time. Shut me down? I don’t think so. If your own brain is not open to reception, turn yourself off as you are wasting electricity! Pity...walking dead...shot in head yet alive to a degree, but not 360. Words spew and stew upon a stove until burnt...smoke billows and kills willows while a frog eats a fly. Plug your eyes, plug your ears, plug your mouth, plug your ass, and plug your nose as it might ruffle your feathers...don’t worry, chickens can’t fly either. If you did not sense it, it does not exist in your pluggedupness. Amontillado couldn’t do a better job. All your bricks are in place. How Fortunato!

Addendum... 

Music... the sweet screech of relief as the strum releases the numb...vibrations create movement, but not in closed cells or collapsing cells which no longer or never did rejuvenate. Its too late...yeah, it is too late. One could masturbate and not cum to terms with what exists outside of self. How boxy by proxy...a total relinquish for sure. Rob, thank you for being open. Do feel free to take my anger and bring it to music so that it may be danced and stepped upon until it is broken.

This needs a pot to simmer...are you a swimmer? Swim upstream and create the dream that is YOURS...mine lies in minds eyes and sparkles upon a grain...sandman grandstanding in late hours has the power to poke holes in souls, but he sometimes passes me by...saturated in a wake of...I spin out of control and think I create...I think...I am...not...knotted, but I am open and for it. Are you?

Addendum to Never a dull moment on a spike ~

This movie was released on DVD in February of this year. If you watch the trailer, you will see time discussed. Speaking of time, my clock is half baked still donging strange hours as it is currently smiling a lovely 1:24 in the p.m when in fact it is 6:16. Looking through my windowed door, I watched as the birds cannibalized my skinned half eaten chicken. Indeed, it was thrown to the wind upon my wakening. I am now one with the clock having fallen behind or sprung ahead...I'm not sure and I don't think I care. Can I live without sleep? My clock thinks so. I lie somewhere between time and I do so without any foul/fowl.

Never a dull moment on a spike~

I got your e-mail and you got mine. It is so much better because of the sign in and out of THIS...but "THIS" is not that bad...detracting? YES...from the already distracted...I think you know what I mean. Forum forum without a vomitorium. What is that? Did you spot the bored gladiator playing with his shield? He once studied philosophy.

Anyway, I just wanted to pop on over to answer you and I know I have one waiting...my skinned half eaten chicken lies cold in my plate no longer palatable. Did I want it in the first place? It must have been someone else. Off in la la and playing with words I observe the absurd. Care for some chicken?

The Mad Hatter exits stage left. The funny papers are waiting.

Pumped up smoking two cigarettes at a time...that damned clock is still Westminstering at 2:45 a.m.  It should have been sleeping at 11!  Pendulum wagging all happy looking to bang the gong at 3!  Not me!!!  Stupid thing.  I have twisted its arms for 12 hours and to no avail.  Six...yes...6.  It is supposed to sleep from 11 p.m. to 6 a.m., but nooooo.  It behaves when it wants to it behave, but not today...not yesterday...not lately.   When was it that it went clocky on me setting itself some hours ahead or behind and it was not bonging...maybe it was and is stoned.  That is it!  It is stoned and has the munchies.  It sees my cold chicken and wants its bones and I see its face and it is not 10 past 10 in the supposed a.m.  I have to contend with the batteries...mine have longer life...grandpa there is there dying. 

Wired? Of course I am wired! The Xanax did not kick so I am sitting here entertaining myself which is real easy. Like a little kid I am amused by everything around me...even that fucking clock which seems to always be ringing. Will coffee put me out since Xanax wired me up? Everything is backwards anyway so it could essentially work. Then again, was Mary as white as snow or was it her lamb? Damned chicken.

Okay...I give!  So, it is now 10:45 a.m. according to grandpa and he is doing his little ringy dingy thing there and I am living with it.  The pillows are all piled in not so coordinated colors...the lights are dim and the blanket says, “blue” kind of sounding like a cow...that is now, but what is later?  According to my clock, it is much later or earlier depending on...  I know that rabbit is around here somewhere with his watch and chain as he IS late!  However, I don’t have to run after him as I already fell down the hole.  The queen of hearts just handed me a brush and I am painting the roses red; have I lost my head?

If I was of the mind of not so kind I would pick on him with you. If anyone should take any forum serious, then they seriously have a problem. Passing time? Oh brother! Your passing time and mine are so different. Without drugs I am inside my head and thinking all this crazy shit. Actually, what I wrote to you made it to blog without your name as I liked my words. I went on to say...never mind, go for the muscle and lay off the drugs as they'll kill you. Knee nee eeeee! Thank you. Never a dull moment on a spike.

The Vehicle~

When I was first built, all my parts were new and well oiled and I shined like a new penny. Pedestrians admired my sleek look as well as the hum of my fuel efficient engine. As time wore on, some of my parts wore out. Granted, it was a long time coming, but it was inevitable despite the general maintenance. What once opened and shut with the gentlest of hand now has to be pried open and slammed shut while the hinges creek with age. The lustrous shine that had once existed has become dull and in some places I have rusted. Thankfully, my engine is still working albeit the hum is more of a grumble, but at least I still work even if not as efficiently as I used to. Although pedestrians no longer admire me, I still take pride in the ride I provide. Luckily, my breaks are like new as they haven't been used. I've come a long way baby and I am a classic! ~ March 12, 2014 @ 5:11 p.m. EST