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BigJesus

Avatar: Skeleton Smoking

Level 10 Troll

“Pain in the ASCII”

eponymous_ennui Posted:

Cubear Posted:

eponymous_ennui Posted:

Cubear Posted:

eponymous_ennui Posted:

Cyst Posted:

eponymous_ennui Posted:

Flint Posted:

I’d like to know what it’s like to settle down, start a family.

Life out here is tough and lonely.

you are never more alone than when you are in a city, the cold glare of your lcd monitor the only light that you have seen for days. you can almost feel the dull thud of millions of people above you as they laugh their false, hollow laughs behind painted faces.

they are scared. every. single. one. they are all scared. they’re afraid their mask has cracked, that everyone in the world would know what frauds they all are. and so they kiss beneath holly, and rut with each other like beasts in heat, their breaths reeking of cheap vodka and stale cigarettes. they spin fantasies for each other, that they may warm themselves as those fantasies come crashing to the ground, burning up one after another. and then they smile.

merry christmas you sick ****s.

looks lyke sum1 needs a xmas hug LOL!!

you, who know nothing of pain, would think to touch me?

begone, lest you burn up and fade to cinders. my grief is too much for you to even comprehend the smallest sliver of, for even that is enough infect you with the curse of self-awareness. turn back now, back into the warm happy glow of your fireplace, and there remain blessedly content with the smallness of your lot in life.

oh wow it is so nice for you to think of her safety. i didn’t know u were made of fire! thats hott~

i am made of pain.

my grief has turned to hatred in the crucible of my leaden heart, twisted in twain by emotions that you can scarcely comprehend. where love used to flourish, a darkness has taken seed, spilling across pastures and consuming all it touches. it is unbearable, this accursed agony of the flesh. my spirit is too great for this mortal form to contain; and so i bleed, that it may remind me what it means to be human, to be alive.

the cold perfection of the razor is a steely reflection of my mind. pain sharpens my senses, brings the world into focus. it lets me see the despair within you, little girl: it lets me see the rot that has taken hold of your breast and, like a sinuous beast, crushes the life out of you. do not think that fire is all that burns: you will, too, once you realise how desperate your vanity is.

all is vanity, all is vanity. blink, and then you die.

yeah i guess it must hurt to be made out of fire. you can never put yourself out for fear of death. that is pretty sad duder

death is not something you fear when you have lived through a thousand lifetimes, each more painful and miserable than the last. but in your ignorance you have struck truth, much like a farmer who strikes a vein of silver: yes, i am made of fire, but it is the fire that you cannot see or know. it is the fire of the pbumio, the divine spark of life that eludes definition or meaning. i gesture, and fire answers my summons: they flicker, but i do not burn. do you see? i cannot be burnt. i cannot be extinguished. but their embrace scorches me nonetheless. i feel my flesh wither and warp, i feel my skin blacken and crack, i hear my throat give cry and give the agony a name.

and that name is “marie”.

omg lotsa words Log in to see images!

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