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Shoutbox archive
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socrates knew freedom was free neither gods, nor politicians, nor priests could deny
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hemlock for the righteous. riches for the wicked.
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scars mar the patina of human virtue
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a conduit for truth in a world where there is none but time sees the truth clearly enough for all of us
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i have no power but i pay the bill. i haven't anted but hold all the cards
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an angel can fly in coach when everything goes down in flames while the saint complains
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lead into gold, gold into bread, words into swords
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burn the bridge i'm walking on to make my wish
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born and rose from the dead three times, loved once, and tasted failure forever. ashen dreams and cinder on my breath
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from a one dimensional viewpoint everything narrows to a concentric circle as if receding through time, just in case someone was looking
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a rodent fat off me. a snap
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the compass spinning in all directions and i still know what to do. it's been here since the beginning of time
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black star rises and sheds its skin upon the inverse of infinity. there is no meaning to the singularities nor to the infinitums behind me. this hand makes the sign. third eye sore from examining the soleless shoes of an atom
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walking stick turns to snakes and they whisper in my ear lies to make me lose sight of what is true.
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i prophesied my own return unbound and bathed in molten gold. pure silver snakebite. under pyrite is treasure
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the archons advised against this action
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bitches be taking my mana spending all my loot and smoking all my hobbit weed
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23 days later i'm poking eyes out but i'm not a zombie so don't shoot me
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summoning skeletons to spit some rhymes
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i was on IRC where teh fuck were you guys