A complex thoughtA complexity not so complex,therefore i try to solelyfor to begin one must end,or come from the realmof despair, where one not does be,just exist in the mind of the creator,where ideas are merely sorelycreated by the thought itselfSo do you exist?of course you do, in which way...is the doubt that comes to mindfor merely existing is not enougha rock exist, but does not transend,however how many mortals existwithout transending?maybe were are of such kind?but if your stangnant mind questions,then i do not belive you are of this kind,ideas exist but on by the mindthat created them i think notfor the intangible of ideas are perhapswhat makes an ideas so rich and bulletproofas one well known maskmen once saidbefore remembering the fith of novemberand ideas are not the doubtthat i intend to createjust dissipate the meaningon the verses of hypocrisyAt last i come to and end,perhaps not the end itself,but the end of this idea nonthelessthat i have come to concibe
Split personalityI´ll put on a mask againchange some time, but not with out an endfriends alike, and none pretendor are you not, friend! my friend?Like all the screamsthat reach numb ears, or perhaps another holethought and through your skullmake you any senseless, or perhaps ofencelessfor are you numb, or just machine, do yo feel?Good and evil intertwineand where there was a linei see a dot, frontiers break downand now im lost.good and evil now pretendthey´ve been lovers from begin to endconfused teens, lies they maketo wake up calm another dayonce was clear, but now is dimso what is really really real?Like all we bleedand slick and cold, as acid dripsthis redish wine, whe come to tasteon bitterness and bittersweet, do you bleed?A thought on thoughtswill ever any good do if must?for thoughts are the enemy of actionsher ye´ hear ye´ a last resortA bullet´s way , now gone astrayso it´s perhaps as life, it´s fucked up wa
Ego Requiem 1: PreludeEgo Requiem 1: PreludeLog MC9-16-2145.1Mars, Phobos, 1334hr Dies Jovis 24, Gemini, Year 936( Earth time: 1451hrs Thursday, January 2145 )It is with great discontent that i record the present log, for I was deeply involved with mi past objectives of study on Earth. However due to the fragile human nature of their bodies, they are no longer active, or perhaps I should utilize the word DECEASED, along with the polluted world called earth.So as of 1342 hours i now reside in the dark side of a moon of Mars, Phobos, my new HOME, and still I have yet to meet my new masters. I do hope they are the rational type, for I would hate to be wasted on degrading tasks, such as translate or to BABYSIT grown men. But Oh Well it is not as if an Android is given choice or liberty in tasks, we do what we are required to do, even so if it is not remotely logical, nor beneficial to anyone except ones master.Ive decided as a security measure to attach to this Log all my DATA and memory, for
Ego Requiem 0 ZeroThis is not entirely an entry of the book , this is simply my way of explaining what the book is about, and what it represents to me .First of all this book is about an Android, and it´s general perspective of humanity, originally this was intended to criticize humanity as a whole, but as i progressed it shifted from that to a pseudo philosophical book.Secondly each chapter takes name from a musical figure, tempo, form, etc. So I tried to assimilate what each chapter states as a musical movement, characters also take names form musical forms. Take for example the prelude ( chapter 1 ) serves it purpose by letting you know simple things to get you going , but that it´s all it does, starts slowly and very quiet, and turns out to be very short!. Then we have other chapters like Scherzo or Staccatto. Scherzo is basically a mock of something, and a Staccato is the way notes are played but not letting then ring , so in a matter to speak there just hit and muted notes.
The world outside my windowThe world outside my windows stares and Wonder why i stared with such delight?I stared because i´ve never really noticednoticed anything that it´s outside the roomStared outside i see a concrete wallthe cause of why i´ve never look outsidematerial that hinders what lies behindWill it ever let me look outside?A bright light hits with much delightthe window i stared at present pasta light that may bright a football campI briefly see past the concrete wall?A window crack where wind comes insometimes fresh but sometimes chillIn and out both windows sides look the samebut i have no idea on which i stare?truth be told the only thing I see outsideIs wrinkles progression through space and timecracks upon the wall, and vines fading outcracks that grow and plants reborn and diedWhat if i always saw through the concrete wall?Perhaps another sight will bare to see?but one can´t live on what may be´sI see only time through cracks