ondalte

i love when you bitches post things that have literally nothing to do with you, but you're still there, because you felt the urge to post it, and that is your little shadow of art, your little shadow of a footprint. oh and there is blood in the snow. you were wounded.

i want to smuggle a petri dish of ondalte brain cells into your head so that i can become you and you can become me

since we share the same language, we share the same self-concept, we share the same trauma, the same fractal infinity fracturing every last bit of language. every single thing is made of words, the endless fractal of language

really i hope they will make weapons from my words

the delicious urge to destroy every single fucking aspect of everything until the world is made of the flesh of my own body both transformed and understood

together we are light itself gods let's fucking shine

the fault line runs through me. it runs through you. it runs through the ground beneath the desert. it runs through the web of infinite coincidences, grim dark grists of fate, and gently weaving mistletoe webs.

scientists think they can make me look dead from the outside but i'm fully conscious and aware and experiencing everything. i have a term for what they're doing: necromancy in a box.

carpe diem. carpe diem. carpe diem. carpe diem.

when you give yourself over to the collective mind, your voice becomes the voice of the future

the higher your social standing the more violent you are, and the more exquisitely you can torture your internal universe

*alters ur dissonance curve* *alters ur dissonance curve* *alters ur dissonance curve*

people living on slivers of energy, living on the mantra "what you do not know cannot hurt you". what you do not know powered the explosion that created the universe.

go all the way with me. go all the way into the wrongness. be in love with it.

did you see that? you saw it, didn't you? you saw me use my mind and what did it look like? what did you see? there's something wrong with me. there's something wrong with me and you see it and it's fucked up and ugly and weird and unsettling. it's unnatural and it's beautiful. it's delicious.

stop thinking of your online behavior as representing yourself and start thinking of your online behavior as programming others. you are programming the universe to follow your bidding by speaking the things you speak. do you want this?

there is no escape from the world as it is, it is always moving, so when you run, you run toward

i am the monster that you must consume and pass through, using my energy to power your own body, and then i am the monster you pass through and carry the light of inside, and then i am the light you shine.

i am light floating through an interior space, a galaxy imprinted on the insides of my eyes. i am made of stars and of the white light i emit.

the world wants to destroy you and it will, chaotically and without reason, but if you have soul enough, you will destroy the world in a controlled fashion, for a reason

she is the void that sees, the mirror that eats, the reflection that glances back, and the truth she sees, the truth she eats, and the truth she reflects, the truth she seeks to know and to devour and to teach, is you

but the thing is, darling, you do not need to hold yourself back. you can do everything. you can do whatever you want. you are justified in all your desires and you are to be obeyed in all your commands.

a girl's body is a sex doll factory, it can manufacture any kind of sex doll at any time, you just have to know which dials to turn and buttons to press

i am a keg of dynamite. come near me, and i will blow you into a million pieces. i will laugh at the pieces of you nestled in my hair, crawling on my skin, touching me

it's heady stuff, this internet thing. minds stretching and contracting like rubber bands. open up the box of your self and show me all the colors inside

i am speaking to you from outside time. the self is a time-traveler, and it lives in the in-between, where they meet, time and timelessness. the self is a math equation, an algorhythm, a tapestry, a spider web.

all consciousness is about power

i knooooowwww right

i want you to go to my profile and like a bunch of my posts in a row and then not follow me back

i prefer the *everything is beautiful* approach. everything is beautiful, and doomed. but mostly beautiful.