LoopTroopin'

Everybody Up!

We're on the eve of a heavenly divine war.

Not to end all conflict, but to redefine it. A storm of swords clashes and crashes silently beside each and every ear, while the silent screams of the pacifist kings cause more blood than any conflict ever could.

Visions of Ghandi cloud the mind in a purple haze while a soft silhouette of chimes sound a childish rhythm right between my eyes. I can see it now, as the fashion victims fall...they claim catastrophic causes to be behind boredom and interoperability. I shake the contents of my fist until the rattle subsides into a slow drone of clicks...suddenly my senses are shot to Hell and the realisation hits me...it's the Apocalypse Now! I look left and find Dennis Hopper, hopped up on cocaine and screaming for more "nose-candy". My right-hand side is nothing but piles built by bodies, structures formed by pinwheels of limbs. The corpse at my feet is fresh, warmth still visible in the spreading pool of blood. Lifeless eyes plead for mercy, but my thin-lipped grin won't subside. No...Why would I stop? The idea of sorrow is akin to a form of mental-masturbation...and it gives me no pleasure.

Everything that I could say would fade into insignificance in comparison to the whirlwind that is my mind. The green outline that locks in this ball-point pen ink screams "AMATEUR" as I scrutinize it...picking up on every fault and discrepancy. One way or t'other...I'm not giving up.

(C) 2007 SEASE Productions. (Yes, I said masturbation...Get over it you immature pansies.) All Rights Reserved, All Wrongs Justfied.