life as a human is absolutely detestable, so much so that there will always be a discrepant abstruse desire to have that inconceivable opportunity to relive, somewhere, somehow, as someone else, or rather, something else. erratic??? not at all.
occultic as it may be wanting that, am pretty sure it is not an unwonted longing on my part alone. really, would rather have that arcane shot at that silence, cryptic as it is. touch wood... me will not.
embracing another entity... another epoch... another existence of no vim. that of the living dead. that... is me...
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