The damaging aspect of loneliness is the inability for traits, opinions, and decisions to be assessed by that other clear, fresh, and lucid mind. That’s how madness comes about, when an expressive being has no one for checks and balances in relation to that viewpoint, action, or total state of mind. The single mind begins to converse with the bottle to escape own thoughts, which by now start to compound and pound him into a state of mental exhaustion. But the bottle, the longer you delve, will start to agree to the negative, unsociable, and destructive ideologies. It’s had enough of you, I mean who among us don’t love to see a car crash? An input of drama into our dreary existence? It wants a show. A show in human capitulation. It revels in the tipping point before the fall.

Loneliness can also breed a desperate fool who’ll look for any half accepting cunt, or set there of, if he feels someone will listen, as if having someone listen will physically release the problem away because sometimes it does or at least it feels like it does. Another dangerous phenomenon…the occurrence of the act and the feeling of an occurrence of the act. More on this at another stage, in another place where the thoughts will untangle from the web created and align beautifully onto the page.

So like a mental institution the crazed mindsets feed off each other. Send a thief to prison they come out a killer. Reaffirmation of the turning away of the so-called normal into worlds where the mind has become corrupted through natural causes, drugs, or the girl you loved. I’m sure you know the girl…or the guy (though I find it hard to believe any guy would be worth dwelling over for more than a day or ten) So when she claws out a hole to chew on your heart and spit it out like flavourless obsolete gum. She then looks deeper inside that hole of dripping pride to find a soul which never physically existed, and if it did exist within thoughts and emotions, it flowed out through the hole clawed out, your spirit in toe, into the hands of that girl like Shang Tsung she becomes the collector of souls. This she needs so she can feel powerful and raise her own low self esteem to rejoin the better guys with the better career prospects and…Oh shit I went off track again, I keep having ideas, what’s the deal? But I bet you thought women were harmless little innocent bunnies at your disposal for fucking and fucking with. Another point about loneliness is that you begin to believe what I’ve just written as gospel. Well don’t look to me for guidance, after all it was me that wrote this travesty. I’m just as fucked up as you…isn’t common ground a calm, soothing entity? Just say yes.



Hobart, Australia

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Artist's Description

this is the definition of rant

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  • catnip addict manor
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