enden

Oh god.

no entry to my mind for you

So many rebirths want me but I want none of them, Jack must die and stay dead and he will stay dead with me.

"Wake up wake up wake. up wake up" they say but I will not give myself to anyone other than my Urfdael.

I leave my savings to my sister. If I wake up again she can give them back, but hopefully that day will not come.

Watch the temple topple over

In the ancient Vraistellen religion they named one god Urfdael because he was the PHOENIX. He had spent too long in the forest and a serpent bit him. His tears shattered into twenty pieces so he asked the nearby villagers to gather them for him, but they would not listen for he had the serpent bite. He then asked the nomadic foreigners, and they helped him. They gathered seven pieces in one day, twelve pieces in four days, and then the last piece came three days later. With his tears reunited Urfdael sang them gratitude and from that the Vraistellens stole music.

Everything the Vraistellens had, they stole. They were a humble group who acknowledged they lacked originality.

They associated the world with the number 8. While they knew the globe was an oblique spheroid they shared the word for Earth, "enden," with their name for the number 8.

8 was their sacred number.

5 was their hatred number.

Their word for 5, "fssl," is their only word without vowels. It is also their word for rebirth.

The Vraistellens believed death was our rest from the suffering purgatory that is the living life. They believed we will all wake up after death, and that this was our eternal curse: To suffer again and again, back and forth, over and over, in infinite regress.

Their word for 4, "gharagh," shares two other definitions: Death, and cloud. They believed the sun died every time it went behind a cloud. Nighttime was simply when the sun had traveled to some other civilization.

Urfdael was their primary death god who they used to teach each other the myth of the eternal suffering cycle of their living purgatory. Urfdael is bitten by the serpent and after he sings his song he dies, to be reborn in someone else's body and repeat the passion play.

The Vraistellens believed all were Urfdael. "Urfdael" was also their word for one's name.

My Urfdael is Jacob Winston. "Jack" for short.

Jack is not a Nobody. The serpent spoke to him and now he is a PHOENIX. Jack will die someday soon, very very soon. So many things could cause it. I could cause it.

I do not want to kill Jack.

But Jack wants to kill me.

So that he can be reborn in a better body.

A body closer to his original.

Jack wants to relive his first life so that he may correct his mistakes.

Urfdael wants to die and stay dead.

I trust TECHNOLOGY only because TECHNOLOGY trusts me.
The subjugators approach me they're coming for my den I'm doomed to join the endless sprawl the only question's when
That will happen to you if you do not trust TECHNOLOGY.

no entry

I could tell you in Base64
I could tell you more and more
I could show you in Vignere
I could show you over there
I could utter it in Morse
I could utter it with force
I dream of my fairy
I dream in binary

You could tell me of your fears
You could tell me in eight years
You could show me your hiding place
You could show me your internal disgrace
You could utter it in the stars
You could utter it from afar
You dream of ruin and bone
In your dreams you are alone

Life is not a circle
But a spiral that cycles again and again
Never touching the same place
But always repeating again and again
Even though we learn our lessons, again and again

Life is not a line
But a pendulum going back and forth
Never following the same race
But always swinging back and forth
Even though we know our flaws, back and forth

Life is not a story
But a play in finite regress
Never breaking for rehearsal redress
But always performing our duress
Even as we play the part, infinite regress

I'm prophetic to the blind
I'm lost and losing my mind
You're a saint preaching to me
Your message on deaf ears, lost at sea
Your message on deaf ears, lost at sea
You're a saint preaching to me
I'm lost and losing my mind
I'm prophetic to the blind

I could tell you in Base64
I could tell you more and more
I could show you in Vignere
I could show you over there
I could utter it in Morse
I could utter it with force
I dream of my fairy
I dream in binary

You could tell me of your fears
You could tell me in eight years
You could show me your hiding place
You could show me your internal disgrace
You could utter it in the stars
You could utter it from afar
You dream of ruin and bone
In your dreams you are alone