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January 17, 2003
How Strange the taste of BITTER
The BITTER is warm, it is salvation, it is freedom.
The BITTER stands when all else has left you, when everything is gone but you, when exile is close at hand
The BITTER waits with open arms to welcome you into it upon your death, upon your destruction, upon your weakness leaving
The BITTER holds the keys to every door, to every answer, to every insight
The BITTER stares into the eyes of every person, it screams in their ears, it slaps at their faces
The BITTER trembles in powerful rage at the ignorance of "Beautiful People", of Wall Street journalists, of empty headed teens
The BITTER is teenage angst, is the daemon inside you, is a half formed thought in your mind
The BITTER hides in the silence of a baby's scream, in the heart of every half assed lover, in the darkness at the foot of your bed
The BITTER is the glowing ember within every emotion, within every painful moment, within every epiphany
The BITTER is what will rip you down till you are nothing but pure, rip your illusions down till you see nothing but the BITTER, rip you until you are raw power and then it is the BITTER that will build you back up.
- Strange, acolyte of the BITTER
So quoth scott at 04:48 UTC
BITTER traces
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BITTER pills
Every day, I see these people walk around me. They are the same people who love me, who hate me, who stare blindly into my face unable to comprehend when the hell I am talking about. I could stop in the middle of their mob and speak out loud of the BITTER or of anything for that matter, and the only response I would get would be a, "Hey freak! Get out of my way!" or their eyes would just glaze over, their mind shutting out what it is too fragile to hear.
I want to wake them up, I want to show them what I have seen, but no one listens anymore, they are just waiting for their turn to talk. Everyone is so absorbed by their little lives that they can't see the big picture. We are the makers of paint, and the BITTER is the artist who uses them; for our benefit no less. 99.9% of us don't even bother to take a step back from our stupid little lives to take a look at our general surroundings, let alone the full mural. We live in such a beautiful tapestry, and all we do worry about our little part, or how the paint is made. The colombine shootings, 9-11, Oklahoma City bombing, the idiot driver who cut you off on your way to school or to work, that bitch in front of you at the cafe who made such a big deal about her fucking whipped cream. They are all just things to show us the BITTER, to milk us for paint.
I pity the people who would walk around me without a word as I mumble to myself about the BITTER's paintings. They will never truly live (unless of course one of us puts the metaphorical gun to their head and make them wake up.) as we have/are. They all feel that they are so untouchable. These thoughts only make them more vulnerable. Such pity.
I wonder who produces the more brilliant paint, the ranting deciples, or the blind pawns?
-Strange
Posted by: Strange at January 17, 2003 9:14 PM