For Surveyors, so simple are the minds that fold and bend with strangers alike them. For when you are among them, you are God.

The deep sea of chaos floats above you like a moth in a trance-like dream... it's smart because it crawls under the door.

If you don't know what you mean, you should say it before it figures you out.

Even when life spits on you you should smile, at least your teeth will become shinier.

When I tell you do things, I don't really mean it. You know that right? Because I've told you to listen to me many times....

Who is this person that stands over us, looming like a sky-tower? I have no idea, but maybe when they start to move they will crush our cities beneath their feet and we will wave at them.

Sometimes it's fun when life gets you down, because you know things can't get worse, yet they can and will.

We try to pretend like we're all normal, but the superficial nothings of society are like maggots which burry into your brain. They look like maggots, and people won't eat them, do what's the point?

I tried to not move, it's hard when you always move. They stood and stared at me, and it made me shake, which is movement... so I gave up.

I figured that one day the door would just open, but I had to push it, and it was worth it when I was done... infinite ignorance achieved is a small blessing.

It lies there looking oh so innocent... In reality, it is filled with passion and words that flow like dreams in the nights. But still it waits for somebody to come and breathe life into it. Some people waste their fortune on petty notes and endless uncalled phone numbers. Some others forget them as they find dark hidden places and sleep. I like to make them dance.

Alone, we have discovered wit that is only reflected by the turning of the second hand, and how it haunts us. And in this, we find agony of remembered cold.

People flutter and fall like snowflakes, each one different but so utterly monotonous, and they find themselves unimportant until they cover all beauty with their bodies.

Whispered dark languages, no sense either, just rare speech and an echoed voice. And when your fingers crawled through mine the voice grew quieter and more like you until it was you... then there was no more conversation as wings flew on high alone.

It's the order that ripped you apart, I cried, and they order that tossed you to the winds to feed it's many open, innocent mouths that begged like dogs under a well-stocked dinner table. The chaos that ensued was created and loathed by it, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered as I was swept up into the darkness, my soul into blissful oblivion.

I got shivers and encores from the moon as the light winked on and off, spurred by a dimmer mind.

Death brings pleasure, it's proven. Did you think that by dying you would be happier? Or by almost dying... we like to flirt don't we?

Every second goes by, and it brings me another. Another comes, and another comes.... they don't seem important at first, but after you spend any time with them, you want them to be neater.

You don't realize you're prettier, it's ruined after all. Even when smiles don't count, I can see directly through you. Sure I can see that.

Can you smell even when you are thinking, or does it blind you with the ghosts of images that are like distractions from the ground?

The man scares me. He looks through the window.

I won't be able to tell if you are saying hi, from up here it looks like you're dead.

If you are made of someone else, do you think with them? And if you are made up of many people, are you but a poll booth for their decisions, only once making a choice, for everyone to leave?

One day I will. If you believe me it makes things easier for when the worms come. Hesitation won't halt it, it crawls under your skin and doubles the intensity of you.

Even hiding from farthest shores will bring you confusion and trust the fast speakers, maybe they will walk ahead yet you won't call out because they aren’t the person you sat next to. Don't speak so fast, it's interesting.

Deep like the black cold in the night, swimming with your eyes open and closed, deeper ever to see your face.

Are you lost, to dream about dreams, when you know you're awake? You must decide when it's time to leave. You, together with the welcome home, have nothing to explain because you all think the same about death and pollution and crying things that seem to far away but are right behind you.

You couldn't know, it's behind you now, so unless you believe in cheating or turning when you cannot, you are telling the false truth. How alike you are.

I can hear the machine, it's alive and it calls to me in it's language. When the lines blur again.

Even you remember. I haven’t heard the silence in ages, it was so long ago when the crystal sharp images cut my skin and small things like bugs went flying, skittering about.

Could you shut up? I can't hear myself think.

No, I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to him, he always hangs about, have nothing else to do, do you? I'd show you for sure but I can never really see you, you just sit on my shoulder and call me crazy.

If I think about it slowly, it runs down like darkness or blood, even the nicest things turn red and black when they are confronted by feelings like these.

Contradictions are what I want, I want them. They are like, can I miss you, but I don't want you, of course, without this I could be productive. I'd rather be alone then die with you like this.