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| Site's Live which means unfortunately it's time for me to finally say goodbye. I thank you for all the times we've shared. Good and Bad. I won't delete this place just yet though. Whereas most of the important stuff has been saved and stashed both digitally and analog I would like this place to stand as a memorial to the past that I could never forget nor dare so either. Thanks again and perhaps for the last time, peace out. www.emptylamb.com | | |
| ...it's comming... Michael Lamb 17
Matheiu Rouzer 14 and 1/2 Mael Lehrer 14 Lucas Baise 37 Allison Bredth 37 Benjamin Davis 29 Knight Polaris Blitzer 18 Marshall Doxson 19 Halen Samson 14 Sarah Chen 15 Amedias Metzuirk 29 Guardian ??? ...it's coming... | | |
| MtL is the name of sacrifice...Ignorance is a bliss that age grows not to
afford. In a world so ideal as to believe what's true is what can't be
unproven whilst the mind promotes the reverse; we find ourselves in a
constant conflict yet, unaware. Where do we stand in the middle ground
if such a place could possibly exist? The truth of the question is as
simple as the question itself. Foolish philosophy and theorem is what
drives. To believe in something is to be alive. To believe in nothing
is to be alive. The further the contradictions run, the greater the
progression of expression and experience. Fallen heroes and lost souls
share such common strands as neither are more than but fiction. To be
just and righteous in a world of grays and black brings forth perhaps
the most of terrible persona. Ignorance that runs so rampant as to have
its wielder completely incapable of sight. We are such frail, fragile
creatures. Our minds can only decipher so much at once but can take in
all at once. Where are the tricks and games that must be played to
release the potential of such a "super power" if not within ourselves.
The growing escalation of esoteric thought brings forth all that can be
imagined. To speak in a way that could only be fathomed in text is a
skill that once acquired makes its master a recluse. There is one, but
one, way out of all of this. One way that is as vast as the solemn pity
felt towards a loved one gone astray. Happiness is such a harsh
mistress. To believe it can be attained or that it is deserved has
contributed greatly to the contradiction. The contradiction that
thrusts life forward. The evolution of the mind in something that seems
so misplaced yet it exists in files and storage of the world's greatest
powers. We are but pawns until we get too close and burn. We are but
single strands but at the same time deities amongst ourselves. The link
to life itself is within us all as perhaps through some abstract
science, alchemy, such an absolute can be expressed. Laws that dictate
energy dictate far greater in relation to all existence. The very
breakdown of substances adheres to make up other substances with the
buildup heralding yet identical results. In it's base form we are all
but energy. This desk is me. This chair is me. This computer is me.
This ring is me. This me is me. Just as the black boxes of logic that
comprise our technology. What zeroes and ones can't comprise all that
could exist that isn't known? Cells, molecules, atoms, particles. Base
pairs that are no more than our yes, no, if, and then. The link is
there if even seen it is not. If only we knew.
The pain of the
everlasting or perhaps the ever lasting pain is something that can't be
avoided. To know that there is something out there one must accomplish
is a gnawing sensation that can only be followed to produce the seeds
for such anxiety. We are so sure of ourselves that we forget our
futures and what such could possibly mean. To forget it all may be the
only way to surpass the limitations set by standards and practice made
concrete over years of decades. To find the truth is something so
beautifully cruel when faced with circumstances unavoidable on such an
endeavor. The absolute truth like all and any absolutes is to be feared
for such could contain naught but that which does exercise phantasm.
Such that would destroy a world, or save it; but revelations and with
omega. To escape fate is as possible as one dare believe. To acquire
knowledge of such an accomplishment is on the proverbial ledge which
overlooks and hangs with the hand of all. The All. The ether. The
ephemeral where dreams of utopia exist to remind us that it is what
lies missing. Life. Its meaning so simple to any one with thought and
determination. Without absolute, its interpretation can be naught
but correct. Life is, the meaning of life. Life is, the reason to
believe there is, no, that there has to be more. Life is the
contradictions of past and present and even future chaos. Life is that
which grants us perspective of ourselves. Life is energy. Energy is
that which connects us all. As the spectrum illustrates, we are all but
merely on different ends of a line. Were there only one truth necessary
it would be itself that truth. That truth that cannot be absolute as
there can be none by man. The contradictions again produce length to
that line, that line that encompass us all. You are me and I am you. We
are but aspects of each other. We are that which exists but still not
truth absolute. If only grasp could provide. We must continue on as
there is no way we could not. The one and the all. The all and the one.
There is but that which fuels it all.
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| "Drink till we can't feel feelings anymore"
Is that even possible? Were it, perhaps it would become my mantra. I'm one sad, sick, twisted individual in a hellhole full of those I could claim my brethren. I'm the majority. Personally I feel like that should be a problem but then I take a hit of another cigarette and recall how I don't give a damn.
These gahdamn streets are depressing sad colors of gray and crimson. Blood of the rats who've found their expiration dates so much sooner than they could've ever imagined. Rats that wear human faces but still can't help but pick off the bones of the fallen. I hate this shithole but it's the only home that could ever accept me anymore. Or at least that's what the FnF seem to cycle on repeat when I give a ring.
Friends and family ...what a joke. The only friend I have is the warmth of the bar stool as it keeps me just balanced enough to take another sip. Sure the place is filled with enough toxins to decrease the pathetic nature of bodily regeneration but does that mean I should care? Who lives forever anyway; right. Not I, no sir, too long has it been since I could remember such a desire. Suits me like a fine Kenneth Cole.
Can't see straight anymore. Clouds have formed and don't wanna go away. What happened to me is a question long disregarded. Man I hate myself. But that's this city; isn't it. Sick sad world of mine, black-murky dark of the reflection of my eye. No care for why, but remorse in death. Too long for a good motto so I guess I'll continue to rush these rocks clean. Maybe the next one should be dry. Would do it well with all that room to be free, even if the glass walls still confine it till I set it free into my mind.
"Just drink," a few more shots of life-liquid brings me to conclude my search. Maybe I can get back to myself once I fall. Sure, and tomorrow'll be Christmas for the rest of our lives. I hate the taste...
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Now playing: Led Zepplin - Stairway to Heaven
via FoxyTunes
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