Stream of Consciousness

Write the first words that conjure themselves forth - behind that forehead of yours.

Other anons evaluate

slit eyed nose hole ear thumping prolapsing urethra spinning belly beating ass hurting hemorrhoid needling blood licking cock hating ball hitting love snatching bitch

Wrinkled taint

Can farmers plow earth - till barren ends? Or will floodplains remain true to meaning, resisting the overhydration a flood brings. It is impossible to know the inner workings of subconscious thought; simple manifestations go back through long chains of subconscious abstractions. We are ancient beings, biologically speaking, metaphysical holiness resides in each soul as the genes can be tracked thousands of years back. Spinal fluid holds what can’t be articulated through traditional means. The chairs of identity reap inclinations toward hysteric beings. Chaos resides in all that needs a category to evoke order, yet that which represents order is fought against as oppressor of life. Multiple reasonings guide us to this truth; multiple showings of the same manifestation: chaos - resentment of order. Order and chaos are not two separate entities, but two sides of a coin, balance needs to be within 1% lest the toss be weighted, one side will dominate existence. Farmers plow - floods hydrate, and I… I remain unknowing of what my utilization is - the plow or the flood?

I feel you have a hard time devoting yourself to any one thing, yet that is exactly what you need - and you know it.

There is nothing new under the sun. Lately I've been gripped by a strange fury. It consists of the belief that time is cyclical. I try to imagine a spiral or fractal timeline but at best it results in deus ex machina which again puts us in a flat circle (what else is a God with infinite time to do but recreate us ad infinitum?). I am ceased with terrible paranoia at night before bed. What if I am God and I killed myself to create this world? Could I go back to being God by killing myself? But what would even be the point...

>tfw no gf

you're right, but you know what? you're not the innocent little girl you claim to be, I know what you want and it's sickening, if lucifer had a daughter it'd be you, fucking bitch, I swear to god I know what you did with Daniel while Marcus was deployed, you fucking him and his father one after another, I don't know how you can live with yourself waving at him puckering those lips that're probably still coated in their sperm while you gush about how much you love him and can't wait to come back home, I don't know if it's a cultural thing with you fucking chinese woman, but he saved your life from poverty and mediocrity and you repay him by fucking a generation of his friends? you're trash and just because I cheated on his father thirty years ago doesn't mean it's okay to do the same thing to my son, if you ever go near him again I'll make you wish you never got that green card, bitch

oh that's gold coming from the barracks slut who lives off base with her deployed husband yet somehow gets lost after shopping at the commissary like a grotesque damsel in distress. Men didn't care about you before that boob job you used Marcuses entire USAA savings on, you fucking blew through his danger pay in a day with that plastic surgery you cunt, and it's obvious about that nose job and half-asses tummy tuck, you're a ghoulish yellow chink and your kids will definitely look the part, hell your plastic surgery will start sagging in a couple years and you'll be so ugly that we'll probably ship you back to China as a service to our country, cunt

running up pen tubes again running from troubles running from the mirror running in full circle reciting words I already know. There is no salvation in degradation but who knows what else we're supposed to do. Skulls swell and burst and an errant nurse twiddles her thumb and chews gum wondering what the internet has to say