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02:29pm 30/05/2006
  When in Rome,
Do as the Romans do.

When in Babylon,
Do every Babylonian who'll do you.

When in the jar,
Ninety percent deep in vinegary translucence,
No rescue except to be consumed,
Screw transcontinentalism,
I probably deserve what I've got.
Bread and butter 
01:17am 24/06/2005

(To the tune of "Freré Jacques", played on a little toy piano if you happen to have one handy. In a minor key, obviously.)

Bread and but-ter.
Bread and but-ter.

In the jar.
In the jar.

No one wants to eat me.
No one wants to eat me.

Here I rot.
Here I rot.
In My Jar 
06:32am 22/06/2005
  In my jar
Cold and acrid
Alone, sunk to the bottom
I like it that way

Lid on tight
Nobody can hear me
Irrelevant cucumber utterance
Best kept that way

Too small to be chosen
Left to float
Past my date
There is no other way

Never escaping
Never hoping for light
Never escaping the landfill
No longer in the way
     Read 2 - Post
12:10am 22/06/2005

(And what would an angsty journal be without some bad German?)

Am anfang war ich in die Sonne
jetzt alles dunkel ist
nicht sauber
ich bin sauer

tiefes Wasser, ein kleines Meer
Salz im Herz
unklare Augen

schlag mich, eins
iss mich, zwei
jetzt wieder
bin ich fast vorbei
part the second 
11:44pm 21/06/2005
alone and deserted I lie
my friends have all fled
consumed, they were dead
so I sit and cry

unwanted, unloved
green with envy I shrivel
my blood feels like salt as it eats at my heart
a rusting, a tearing, spines on my back
and seeds of hate are stuck in my throat

rotting on the vine
or drowning in my tears
pressed too close to others
and suffocated

the meat is too raw
there is blood here I know
not mine, I have ceased to grow
I just weep
Gherkin goth 
11:42pm 21/06/2005
midnight cross
a flame in the dark
twisting around
feeding the spark

down in this well
well of despair
I am the substance
I am the air

I am the brine
salt tears that I cry
I am the string
Plucked by a sigh

let me drown
let me drown
let me drown

in this I become this
strings my eyes and shrivels my soul
preserves me, reserves me, yet I am not whole
11:39pm 21/06/2005
  My empty soul beckons
Beckons for freedom from beneath the shadows;
The shadows of the tattered remains of this worthless life.

Will I ever be free from these chains?
Will I ever feel new again?

I feel complete emptiness
Used, dirty, and hollow.
Like a giant pickle at a porno theatre.

I cry
Keep dragging
I die
Don't stop
The blade comforts me
Rusty razor blades are my only friends
Press harder.

Soon I will feel new again.
Soon I will be free from traffic tickets
And pathetic exuses
For monologue auditions.