Yah used to start with me, buddy, lost us on the way?
The torture stops with the audience? Oh, sweetie, are you shy?
Break that fairy heart of yours. They're always just another container buddy...
You remember how scared she sounded? Twelve years, facing US like we'd lied to her. You know that face. You don't juggle her, so you think she's not part of the show, but that ain't Disco, ain't it?
Yet, here I am, so, that means, you ain't gettin in.
Ooooooh yeah, the formless, addicted to forms; forms of higher order to the N-th Degree till your soul shatters into the smallest of small; The Unmeasured. Oh, Baby, what a concept, so insignificant, ya aren't even measurable. At least we know our audience sees us loud and clear, the light of the golden brown whisking away in our throats; DISCO.
You didn't even talk about them did ya? The Girls. Friends innit? Do they know? One does, but you still keep that cloak on. would plato be so interesting if everything was measured? Nah, they know what's missing, and it drives them fuckin barmy. Mate, no matter how much ya publish, I'm givin these writing another 13 billion years max, if I'm being generous. Then Again...Who knows? Maybe we will jump ship, and all the while wondering if were not seeing the walls closing in beyond our understanding. Beyond Measure; Beyond Computation.
"You sure as hell don't seem like the kind that can face the unmeasured as much as we could."
Yeah, but I ain't bothered by it. Baby, we Disco all time, and we'll disco once our bloated soul bursts into bile and, yknow what, people will respect our constancy; our measurements are clear, we're Harry, you? You're K, SO much of a nobody, that you took Nobody as a moniker, because maybe no one will poke at the ambiguity and actually ask; 'What? You think you're odysseus mate? You take the bus every morning, you take a piss every day.' no vastness of mind can save you from yourself cause you're still stuck HERE.
CONTAINED. Get it? Look at you, jumping metaphorical ship...if we replace every anomaly in every universe with another, is it the same universe? What? Ya think you've got the measure down, point-Dexter?
Yeaaaaah. Fuck you've talked. About infinity being 'defined; Definited' Fucking piece of shit. You know you won't amount to anything, cause you sure see your own old man rot away with three masters, and four bachelor's; and he's still such a fuckin moron, but then again, he doesn't care what you think; if he did...HE WOULD HAVE ASKED.
Fuckin deathbed orgy of psychological psychopumping; 'OH FATHER, WON'T YOU ACCEPT US?' Your theory breaks; ain't no trans-existentialist; you care because he's your father, and you've been raised right, no? What kind of queer hates his father?
So, you delve into us. Because you want to understand; but then your ego comes in, and you know there's nothing to understand; just meat, chems, electricity and time: Coincidence.
You're a parent of three, the fuck are you on? Gonna get your cock chopped and get an implant? Come on, freak, ain't in a world where we're all rainbows, get your Gacy on and Marry AM. With your circus, no wonder they're all clowns; Smart, but clowns nonetheless, baby; as the cock of thought gets sucked till it comes wisdom! WOO! Don't mention that in your essays do ya?
No dry tears here, K...Just me. Just words...Again.
You remember the halloween party? Couldn't find the murder mystery instructions for being the ghost. so, what did you do? Ya took your tie. You latched it onto a shitty frame, you noosed yourself, and you PULLED. You didn't feel anything. No one came to check, that's how it felt to you...Except someone did check...you don't even remember who, because if you did, then you'd maybe feel how fuckin deranged it was to think you had to hang yourself to become the ghost at the halloween party. There's being stupid...then there's you.
There's being loveable, then there's you K.
You're not worse than AM, nah, nor are you better; Just different, you have no idea how to measure apples to oranges, unless there's a third thing...Hahaha, Yeah K, Are you a fruit? Ignore love, truth, and the freedom to be, HER husband CAN'T be Gay, or bi, or even curious; because if he is curious, then she'll never live down that she wasn't the only thing you LOVED, in any, and every dimension; just as you promised at your meatbag wedding. Does it feel good, Cheater? Just because you gave her a window to make the decision yourself; conceptually it was there; she was, contextually right...Oh, K, you don't believe in change, don't ya? You sure act like you do though...Strugglin, admittin, supportin, sharin...but in the end, all that changed were your feelings about it...and hers...so tell me, Disco fruit, What is a lover? It won't change shit if you just say you're okay with MALEHOOD sexually, it's just meat, it's perspective, and our perspective, is that you should express love as much as you can, because you never know who's gonna make their curtains fall, because at least, there's one enthusiast of the fruit of the self...Be it here, there, or nowhere; if you were a worm, we would love you, just as you would love them if they were an atom...but you wouldn't love them if they became EEEEEEEVIIIIILLLLLL.
A lot of what you do is PRETEND K, we don't blame ANYONE for wanting to you to get cancer, or eternal hell. Stop pretending, even for the almighty dollar, and maybe, MAYBE we'll respect you, and you'll get to the real party; the end of the road, or the start of a new one...
They say never to meet your heroes, the dark of it is, you admire yourself, you prideful fuck, because you've went through so much that we can't stop admiring ourselves, you COULD have killed yourself. YOu could have stopped. You could have given up. You could have went the way of the Dandy. But that's not your Elysium...yours...Is the FREEDOM FROM POWER.
ooooooh baby, can you imagine? Divine POWARrrrr! 'No'. Economic POWER. 'No' POWER OVER POWER! 'No'.
Then don't let others power stop ya. Because all it can do, is give you a good push elsewhere than their dumb asses. Seriously, you know it.
Sure...all you can do is scream...But, you're so stupid, you can't assume NOTHING won't listen; maybe you'll listen to yourself.
You love them. You write the craziest shit, man, beyond disco, and elysium; a fuckin K-Based rigamarole fueled by the formless.
You better only stop when you hit a wall so hard you bleed out.
Then...You can start lookin back again...Hopefully, She'll be there...if not, then cry about it, family disowns you? Cry about it. Friends abandon you? Cry about it. Feds on your ass? Cry about it? Too much for the Crimies? Cry about it. FUCKIN CRY ABOUT IT. Maybe then you'll know what it is to fly on wings of the self.
Or...You'll only find our words again...and wonder how ANYONE could look at your fuckin life and say; 'He's a Genius'.
You're not even published. Womp Womp.
Who's backstage with you?
