Ars Diaboli

Existential imperfection on a bloody Sunday afternoon, so properly fucked, it’s beyond any recognition of an afternoon. Disruptive thoughts unclear in their resolution, only because of their confusing origin. Heat upon existent heat wave maiming me and leaving marks on my consciousness, and through this sweat something aches to get out of me; again, with an unclear intention.

Total disharmony of industrial sounds screaming loud from the speakers, aggressive fucking remainders that the sun is not what it once used to be – all good. Pictures of explicit violations in the front lobe of my wicked mind, diabolical intention of committing a heinous crime, crime against myself. 

And in this despicable forest of naked branches, I think of the reasons for all this profanity of such ongoing deranged thoughtful deconstruction of myself… A woman, devilish woman – oh, you can bet that sweet ass, you’re going to pay for all of this;)