Your "god" is a lieFollow

Your tits are twisted truths
your penises are massive exaggerations best.
Everyone aged, got married, and tossed out kids.
loud, obnoxious kids. how's that working out for you?
OH YEAH, MY KIDS DONE TURNED MAH LIVES AROUND HERP.
Check back in 20 years when they're old, in college, and you're sick of your mate to the point of divorce.
society makes me sick. everyone lives by the script.

Yeah, parenthood ruined the Asylum. We need the in-between generation to start posting. Then we need the Asylum children to start posting, and give their parents ulcers.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
connection to the starry dynamo in the machin-
ery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
up smoking in the supernatural darkness of
cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and
saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tene-
ment roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes
hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy
among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy &
publishing obscene odes on the windows of the
skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burn-
ing their money in wastebaskets and listening
to the Terror through the wall

I remember everything!
I remember every little thing as if it happened only yesterday. I was barely seventeen and I once killed a boy with a Fender guitar.
I don't remember if it was a telecaster or a stratocaster, but I do remember that it had a heart of GOLD and a voice like a horny angel.
I don't remember if it was a telecaster or a stratocaster, but I do remember that it wasn't

at all

easy.

It required the perfect combination of the right power chords and the precise angle from which to strike.
The guitar bled for about a week afterward, and the blood was so dark and rich, like wild berries.
The blood of the guitar was Chuck Berry red.
The guitar bled for about a week afterwards but it rung

out

beautifully.

And I was able to play notes that I had never

even

heard

before.

So

I

took my guitar.

And I smashed it against the wall. I smashed it against the floor. I smashed it against the body of a Varsity cheerleader. Smashed it against the hood of a car. Smashed it against a 1981 Harley Davidson.

The Harley howled in pain.

The guitar howled in heat.

And

I

ran up the stairs to my parents bedroom. Mommy and daddy were sleeping in the moonlight. Slowly I opened the door, creeping in the shadows right up to the foot of the bed. I raised my guitar high above my head. And just as I was about to bring the guitar crashing down upon the center of the bed my father woke up screaming,

"STOP! Wait a minute! Stop it boy! What do you think you're doin'? That's no way to treat an expensive musical instrument!"

And I said,

"GODDAMMIT DADDY. You know I love you. But you've got a HELL of a lot to learn about ROCK 'N ROLL."

Edited, Sep 25th 2011 12:42am by Belkira

I was told there would be cake in here...

YOU SAID THERE WOULD BE CAKE

WHERE IS THE CAKE EGGMAN

My god promised the end of ice giants, while yours promised the end of wicked people.

I don't see any ice giants around.

I didn't want to dig through 3,000 images to find mine, and don't want to reupload it.

Why are Usagi posts being rated down? I'm disappointed in you all.

I don't know if he cares. He's an UNTOUCHABLE SAGEGURU