yes, I know the lyrics are misquoted.

I gaze out of the window and see the piles and piles of snow covering every square centimeter of my parents garden. The bushes lie drenched; the grass buried alive.

The radiator next to me keeps me warm, but I can only imagine the chill outside.

mother of creation waits

For some reason, everything seems pointless. I want to isolate myself, where no one can touch me. Where I can no longer hurt anyone but myself.

so much pointless angst in this world.

darkness, negative, receptive
a firmament between the waters separate the space

i don't know why i'm writing this.

If I am as blessed with talents as they say I am, why do I feel like such a failure?

I don't suppose there is a point, really. To everything. There probably never was one to begin with. Everything in the world is a distraction; all the adversities and everyday problems you face are merely manifestations of the collective human subconscious desire to numb themselves from discovering a truth we can neither define nor wish to acknowledge.

that everyone is alone.

mother of destruction waits
with a belt of skulls strap me down and send the ship away

I should just let it go, right?
I should just bow down.
I should accept the facts as you distort them.

Bah. This serves no purpose.

programmed with the process
mindless souls from the gas form from every shape

I made the front page.