Behead-a-thon

Nick: yo mo fo
Josh: hey hey yo
: they keep beheading people
Nick: eh it happens
: nothing i can do about it
Josh: sadly thats true
Nick: i can bitch about it
Josh: thats about it
Nick: say what we could of done, should of done, should do, could do
: but in the end it is just me bitching about something
: unless you want to join me at 7 11 and behead the nearest arab
: lol
Josh: we could
Nick: eye for eye
Josh: exatically dude
: well just be rebels
: and start beheading arabs and sending out tapes
: lol
Nick: lol
: eat this you arabs
Josh: and not let our govt catch us
: LOL
Nick: well you know whats gonna happen
: there are gonna say they are better at it
Josh: o yeah
: cause they dont care
: lol
Nick: and then we will have a showdown
: hack saws and everything
: diffrent catagories two
Josh: thats bloody
Nick: like bloodiest, quickest
: most artistic
: the three head dash
Josh: HAHAAHHA
Nick: a relay race where you behead a person and run with the saw kicking the head the whole way
Josh: HAHAHAAAAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Nick: then you pass the saw
: to the next person and they behead there guy
: its a good race
Josh: thats sick
: id watch
: lol
Nick: then of coarse there is a the chop block event
: see if you can behad a person in one swing of an axe
: you start out with normal people
: then you use fatter and fatter people
: it would so work

Sin Wave of Life

When the Pie of my life is half things seam good. A little demanding for more; a whole pie would be nice. Then a whole pie is added before me and suddenly things take a turn for the worse. The positive experiences change quickly into negative, with a brief stop at absolution. The desecration of once good thoughts dance within my brain. Wondering always did this already happen? Didn't I travel this long road just two pies ago.

Nostalgia

The world spins around. Everyday passes with new choices to be made; each choice thus destroying another world. When looking back at what could be or should be leaves an unsettling feeling. A longing felt deep with the depths of one's soul. Stuck in daze of things of old, the future seams grim. Then the inspiration appears, the one truth slips into the dream and you know why it could not be and should not be. The Illusions of the past fades away into the past and the skies clear revealing the bright future ahead.

Beans and Dreams

Wondering about beans,

do they make dreams,

could I buy a bunch,

I would use them,

like magic beans,

plant them outside,

and let them grow

The Broken Moon and the Dead Sea

what is it ?
the drive for something more?
is it holding you back?
killing the dream of yesterday?
and the whole time wondering,
was it worth it?
over the broken moon?
under the dead sea?
is something there?
hidden by the lighter half of things?
wondering if the was dream worth seeing?
is it just a glimse of a could be future, where everything is right?

Coasting Through a Field of Razor Blades and Discarded Syringes

Hold the flab of the box,
away we go over the blocks.
there is no way to stop,
thinking of the potential drop,
I'm glad I have clean socks,

the scratching sound,
of life liven unbound,
ready to put it on table,
to knowing its unstable,
questing for the pleasure ground,

The box breaks apart,
before you even start,
realizing the secret plan,
and becoming a godly hand,
thus the artificial heart

Hello,

Welcome to life,
an everlasting circle,
self doubt to self realization,

quicker than you might think,

but written in stone,

life goes on,

yet stays the same,

stuck forever in a state of obscurity,

with the perfect clearity,

yet so divided,

and united,

breaching the norms of Life.

Steadfast Slumber

Under the dim glow the television, our hero rests. A crust forms slowly over the hero's eyes, the world grows dim. His super senses fade away as sleep sets in. Just then a shadow passes! Darkness envelops what was once the light, frightful screams replace the once joyful laughter, the bountifully feast spoils and rots, flesh burns, and the wave of darkness shrouds the world.

The masses cry out for our hero, still deep in slumber. They pound and wail upon his chest begging and pleaing that he might wake. Save Us! They scream as death creeps into the doorway. As it strolls closer, the screams crescendo bursting into silence. Reaching out from its ragged gown, a dark hand rest upon our hero's shoulder. A sinister chuckle rings out loud followed by a empty sigh.
"Good Night, Sweet Heart"