9:21 p.m. - 2008-10-06
Geometric
Nothing. Hope. faith. let it rot away. The murderous masochists, oh how sadistic.

Mutations, there is nothing but the blasted tower. Here we are falling off again, into the mouth. Tai pe meh. Salvation sold, we're out bought. Hell is all we've ever known. Illusions, pills, spirits, skins, lips, cults, and chains, used up in vain to meagerly fill our veins. Oh I wish I were dead. And in this night there is no sorrow, no relief, just pain. To be devoured and spat back out again.

Transmutations are eternal, this game has no end.