Propagation Burned Mature content No. 292 Published February 4th, 2022 6:58am pst read ( words) Past entries "We were not over there, nor did we make the effort to be in the other place, either. We were not there. Now we have to be here. Inside the dress. No, not wearing it, you fucking imbecilic children, within the meaning. Pull your heads out, dumbasses. Inside the world of the unknowing, uncaring, and unaccepted. Fully inside. The change became apparent just two days ago when the girl was trying those running shoes. Looking at an attractive person somewhere in town is not wrong for anyone. We see attractive people all the time. It happens. For us? Right here in this office and behind the glass? Seeing her was damaging because we are too far gone to maintain perspective in life. We have often mentioned 'out of balance'. Well, the keel has swung up and locked, leaving us to heel for the rest of our lives. Heeled over. Lost in the windy sea. Sea. See. Seeing. We see too much all the time, some on the television and some on the street. But that runner was a slap in the face. We made lewd comments about tongues and parts of her body, just as in the past with others. There used to be a line there. A line we did not cross when the obsession wandered into the site seven years ago. That was also a bad time and we did not see the harm in provocative imagery or wording. Throughout the last two years, however, the desperation propagated in a bad way. The old became burned away. The new became the norm. Now we are mired in our own weakness and dreamy states every day and reach whenever something comes along to reinforce the obsession and burning desire. The runner helped to make that happen. We thank her for being so uniquely beautiful and for helping us to realize the extent of our angry and deviant nature. Yes, deviant. There are thoughts inside which do not appear here. We cannot say. We made drawings, believe it or not. The influence of the lines drove us to business cards. When that went bad, we made drawings. They have since been burned, lest another person see how we think. We cannot say. The runner helped. We wanted to help ourselves to a helping, of course, because nothing helps. Get it? Fuck off. Ah... The anger is up the scale again, the dreams are starkly clear and damning, the concern over our future is at an all-time high, yet all we can do is sit here and attempt to articulate feelings. Some of them must remain hidden, as well, making this process an exercise in patience. We are feeling caged by circumstance. Not good. Very dangerous. What to do? Do you have the answer? Shut up. You're incorrect. You cannot know because we haven't said anything. Burning away irrelevancy to end up with a pure product. No, not the truth, the meaning. Elusive as fuck, that meaning. Shoulders up there. A little string-tied top and black ponytail. We should not have seen that. No face, though. Ugh. We are all-in, to be sure. The issues of twenty have been to the rear for quite some time because one mostly took over and fused itself to four. The massive helping of anger stemming from two is now less thanks to the realization that we have to find answers to other problems which may actually be alleviated for a time. A little, anyway. Being fucking pissed off all the time is going to wear a hole in our heads and allow fluid to pour out. We can't have that right now. The four issues felt as if they could cause the same, yet lately we have seen evidence that our description of those problems was in error. One will kill us. Two only matters while in certain situations which will likely never occur again, three and four remain idle as they must be addressed only in private. All four burned to a point and helped us to recognize what is truly important. The runner's yummy little rear end gyrating patterns of desire down the sidewalk pushed the thought that we have become slaves to what was wrapped in black right there ten feet from our position. The feelings have propagated as the other issues have burned. We cannot deny her power, nor can we deny our weakness. All the fuck in. We know. We just... Know. The subject will continue to propagate out of control as we live life, nothing will ever ease, and we are now on a road with no turns. We know of the focus. And now back to the entry in progress." Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
Propagation Burned Mature content No. 292 Published February 4th, 2022 6:58am pst read ( words) Past entries "We were not over there, nor did we make the effort to be in the other place, either. We were not there. Now we have to be here. Inside the dress. No, not wearing it, you fucking imbecilic children, within the meaning. Pull your heads out, dumbasses. Inside the world of the unknowing, uncaring, and unaccepted. Fully inside. The change became apparent just two days ago when the girl was trying those running shoes. Looking at an attractive person somewhere in town is not wrong for anyone. We see attractive people all the time. It happens. For us? Right here in this office and behind the glass? Seeing her was damaging because we are too far gone to maintain perspective in life. We have often mentioned 'out of balance'. Well, the keel has swung up and locked, leaving us to heel for the rest of our lives. Heeled over. Lost in the windy sea. Sea. See. Seeing. We see too much all the time, some on the television and some on the street. But that runner was a slap in the face. We made lewd comments about tongues and parts of her body, just as in the past with others. There used to be a line there. A line we did not cross when the obsession wandered into the site seven years ago. That was also a bad time and we did not see the harm in provocative imagery or wording. Throughout the last two years, however, the desperation propagated in a bad way. The old became burned away. The new became the norm. Now we are mired in our own weakness and dreamy states every day and reach whenever something comes along to reinforce the obsession and burning desire. The runner helped to make that happen. We thank her for being so uniquely beautiful and for helping us to realize the extent of our angry and deviant nature. Yes, deviant. There are thoughts inside which do not appear here. We cannot say. We made drawings, believe it or not. The influence of the lines drove us to business cards. When that went bad, we made drawings. They have since been burned, lest another person see how we think. We cannot say. The runner helped. We wanted to help ourselves to a helping, of course, because nothing helps. Get it? Fuck off. Ah... The anger is up the scale again, the dreams are starkly clear and damning, the concern over our future is at an all-time high, yet all we can do is sit here and attempt to articulate feelings. Some of them must remain hidden, as well, making this process an exercise in patience. We are feeling caged by circumstance. Not good. Very dangerous. What to do? Do you have the answer? Shut up. You're incorrect. You cannot know because we haven't said anything. Burning away irrelevancy to end up with a pure product. No, not the truth, the meaning. Elusive as fuck, that meaning. Shoulders up there. A little string-tied top and black ponytail. We should not have seen that. No face, though. Ugh. We are all-in, to be sure. The issues of twenty have been to the rear for quite some time because one mostly took over and fused itself to four. The massive helping of anger stemming from two is now less thanks to the realization that we have to find answers to other problems which may actually be alleviated for a time. A little, anyway. Being fucking pissed off all the time is going to wear a hole in our heads and allow fluid to pour out. We can't have that right now. The four issues felt as if they could cause the same, yet lately we have seen evidence that our description of those problems was in error. One will kill us. Two only matters while in certain situations which will likely never occur again, three and four remain idle as they must be addressed only in private. All four burned to a point and helped us to recognize what is truly important. The runner's yummy little rear end gyrating patterns of desire down the sidewalk pushed the thought that we have become slaves to what was wrapped in black right there ten feet from our position. The feelings have propagated as the other issues have burned. We cannot deny her power, nor can we deny our weakness. All the fuck in. We know. We just... Know. The subject will continue to propagate out of control as we live life, nothing will ever ease, and we are now on a road with no turns. We know of the focus. And now back to the entry in progress."
Propagation Burned
Mature content No. 292 Published February 4th, 2022 6:58am pst read ( words) Past entries
"We were not over there, nor did we make the effort to be in the other place, either. We were not there. Now we have to be here. Inside the dress. No, not wearing it, you fucking imbecilic children, within the meaning. Pull your heads out, dumbasses. Inside the world of the unknowing, uncaring, and unaccepted. Fully inside. The change became apparent just two days ago when the girl was trying those running shoes. Looking at an attractive person somewhere in town is not wrong for anyone. We see attractive people all the time. It happens. For us? Right here in this office and behind the glass? Seeing her was damaging because we are too far gone to maintain perspective in life. We have often mentioned 'out of balance'. Well, the keel has swung up and locked, leaving us to heel for the rest of our lives. Heeled over. Lost in the windy sea. Sea. See. Seeing. We see too much all the time, some on the television and some on the street. But that runner was a slap in the face. We made lewd comments about tongues and parts of her body, just as in the past with others. There used to be a line there. A line we did not cross when the obsession wandered into the site seven years ago. That was also a bad time and we did not see the harm in provocative imagery or wording. Throughout the last two years, however, the desperation propagated in a bad way. The old became burned away. The new became the norm. Now we are mired in our own weakness and dreamy states every day and reach whenever something comes along to reinforce the obsession and burning desire. The runner helped to make that happen. We thank her for being so uniquely beautiful and for helping us to realize the extent of our angry and deviant nature. Yes, deviant. There are thoughts inside which do not appear here. We cannot say. We made drawings, believe it or not. The influence of the lines drove us to business cards. When that went bad, we made drawings. They have since been burned, lest another person see how we think. We cannot say.
The runner helped. We wanted to help ourselves to a helping, of course, because nothing helps. Get it? Fuck off. Ah... The anger is up the scale again, the dreams are starkly clear and damning, the concern over our future is at an all-time high, yet all we can do is sit here and attempt to articulate feelings. Some of them must remain hidden, as well, making this process an exercise in patience. We are feeling caged by circumstance. Not good. Very dangerous. What to do? Do you have the answer? Shut up. You're incorrect. You cannot know because we haven't said anything. Burning away irrelevancy to end up with a pure product. No, not the truth, the meaning. Elusive as fuck, that meaning. Shoulders up there. A little string-tied top and black ponytail. We should not have seen that. No face, though. Ugh. We are all-in, to be sure. The issues of twenty have been to the rear for quite some time because one mostly took over and fused itself to four. The massive helping of anger stemming from two is now less thanks to the realization that we have to find answers to other problems which may actually be alleviated for a time. A little, anyway. Being fucking pissed off all the time is going to wear a hole in our heads and allow fluid to pour out. We can't have that right now. The four issues felt as if they could cause the same, yet lately we have seen evidence that our description of those problems was in error. One will kill us. Two only matters while in certain situations which will likely never occur again, three and four remain idle as they must be addressed only in private. All four burned to a point and helped us to recognize what is truly important. The runner's yummy little rear end gyrating patterns of desire down the sidewalk pushed the thought that we have become slaves to what was wrapped in black right there ten feet from our position. The feelings have propagated as the other issues have burned. We cannot deny her power, nor can we deny our weakness. All the fuck in. We know. We just... Know. The subject will continue to propagate out of control as we live life, nothing will ever ease, and we are now on a road with no turns. We know of the focus. And now back to the entry in progress."
Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
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