May it be swift. May darkness cloak the entire city on the day of my passing. The rolling clouds will mark my return to world much more suited for me. The mark of pure passion, idea's, perfect reasoning. Even in fire and brimstone the beautiful logic of hell, systematic torture. The pleasure of knowing far exceeds the pains of the flesh. Flesh is temptation, flesh is unbearable, flesh will rot. I am not of this body. I am of a soul. This body is a vessel for the realization of something larger than myself. Much larger than my peers. Not all bodies have souls, just like not all minds have purpose & ability does not mean opportunity. A hammer can be a paper weight. I pray that the hammer in your hand will be heavy. One blow will begin the loss of a life i never asked for. A soul more deserving. An imperfect vessel striving for reason.
(hahaha)
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