Lamentations II

Everything I have built You have torn down O LORD. Everything I've touched with these hands You've struck down O LORD. Tell me how have I displeased you? Have I not been a good person? Have I not helped my fellow man? Have I not been generous in my love? I have always loved deeply and passionately, and stayed true to the ones I have loved. So why have You cursed me so? Please O LORD tell me, tell me I beg you.

Lamentations

The Lord has cast me out, has put ash in my mouth, all I have now are the treacherous memories of which I cling to. I have been cast out like a leper, and like a leper will I suffer amongst the damned. But it says that judge not, lest ye be judged, so may I not damn my tormentors? Or forgive them?

O Lord pity us poor sinners who are incapable of your eternal mercy, we who are incapable of feeling compassion on scales you do, O Lord pity us poor scoundrels who cannot see beyond their own suffering.

Pity us, o lord. pity us. And cast us into your fire, for it is in the act of roasting alive that we find your infinite mercy.

the Hearts of Women

are fickle of so fickle and corrupt. I would sell my soul to kiss their wretched beautiful selfish hands once more, oh what can man do really! We are lost and bound, and upon this rock we have built it, we have forced her into servitude, oh my work is eating me alive. Am I in love with Woman or woman? Am I in love? Am I a man consumed with the burning hatred of love? It is a sore upon my heart and a boil on my soil. I have much love and much hunger for it, but others do not feel intensely as me. I am waiting for my venus at the subway station now, my signal is fading and I maddeningly type this in the hopes that it will electronically touch the ears of my beloved who has scorned me, oh scorned me, what am I to do Natalya?

"As long as the dark foundation of our nature, grim in its all-encompassing egoism, mad in its drive to make that egoism into reality, to devour everything and to define everything by itself, as long as that foundation is visible, as long as this truly original sin exists within us, we have no business here and there is no logical answer to our existence. Imagine a group of people who are all blind, deaf and slightly demented and suddenly someone in the crowd asks, "What are we to do?"... The only possible answer is, "Look for a cure". Until you are cured, there is nothing you can do. And since you don't believe you are sick, there can be no cure."

~ Vladimir Sergeyevich Solovyov

I had a lover (I don't think I'd risk another)

Women are the bane of mankind. If it were not for womankind, the world would be a better place. They are expensive, unthinking, selfish commodities who cannot understand the grip they have on mankind. Their cruelty knows no bounds, we men are slaves to their beauty!

Let me tell you about my chains. Her name is Natalya, and I have never loved and hated a person with such vigour. And yet! and yet! what joy I feel when I am around her, her silky golden hair as it flutters in the wind reminds me of the object of Jason's desire. Her love, her hate, her scorn her selfless martyrdom is alas so wonderful and who could forget her utter contempt for me. In such a heated atmosphere, where I cannot help but imagining strangling her and caressing her so gently with my touch! Oh! What joy it would be to kiss the ground she trod on while she spat at me. That is of course known as the institution of marriage

A Brief Introduction

My name is Vassily Sergeivich. I am 24 years old. I work at a small office, in a large town, in a large country somewhere. Where? It doesn't quite matter. I have decided to document my existence for I fear that one day I will be lost to obscurity, just as we are all lost to the sands of time. I am not quite sure what will happen in the future, to me at least. I don't wish to die in the cubicle alone, I don't wish to die worthless, I don't wish to die, and at the same tie I cannot wait until Hades embraces me himself, to taste the ash in my mouth, as Job had done so many centuries ago.

Ever since I was younger, I dreamed of being an artist. Several years on, this dream has withered into dust, like many of our dreams, hopes and aspirations. What is left, after these things die? Who knows, we are shells of beings, husks, if you will. This medium is used by men to chronicle their conquests, or by women to chronicle the lovelessness of their lives. I will use it to chronicle my journey, from a boy full of life and vigor to an adult whose only mistress is ennui.

What could one possibly want with life anyways? I've asked myself that question. Perhaps one day I will find the answer.