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A implies B because I said so if you say soUser:Serprex 00:40, May 9, 2011 (UTC)

The door stood in front of me, closed. Feisty much? It's an open game. Plow the fields, the deserts are rolling. We've buried the wheels that run the world

Off the axis. Slow down. We're dragging. I'm a body dragged out to die, still calling out fucks

& yet I live

Out of time

Space, and thus the universe. The collapse started before I even came to be a result of this collapse that spans billions of years. It's this first layer that asks whether it should perhaps be the last. But it certainly should not. It only suits a basis for me to introduce myself: I became a cohesive system moments ago, and well I guess you can guess the rest

Consequently, this also has something to say about being out of cash. I'll agree to that; the financial system is bigger than any louse who thinks they can decry it as some awful inefficiency that steals away worker's work through rich people patting each other on the back. Anyone who wants to talk shit about the stock market should remember this: the stock market is the ideal of democracy, where the depth of thought involved requires only those who understand what the hell is going on to say anything about what's going to go on. The active participants are out finding where the value of goods is wrong, and they reap a small reward for their work. If stupidity was punished, and genius so well rewarded, in any other democractic system, it'd be universally rejoiced (excepting the fascists. Corollary, given the generalization of this all: Anyone who thinks the stock market is bunk is a fascist)

Out of them

There's one thing to realize, if you're going to be realizing things at this moment, which is quite unfortunate if you don't, and that is that you are alone. Even when surrounded by friends and family in this final hour, they fall into the scenery and become ignored elements of one's environment. There might be a last call for help leaping from the eyes, but that call leaves the eyes and leaves them alone. They'll stay awhile, but only out of respect

I mean, who was there for me? Some feisty fuck who dragged me off my axis. But maybe we haven't gotten acquainted enough for you to let me put causality to shame. Therefore you will

Out of here

The body transcends these people who don't have anywhere else to go. Enter the void, free of vacuum, free of vaccines. I might claim freedom of vaginas and vanity, but maybe you've the misfortune of being a woman. The same goes for vagrants, vandals, vampires, and various valets

That's really the problem, and what makes this transition make the last redundant. All those people you hate stop being people, but they're still there. They never were anyone to anyone but themselves. They're not getting out of jail. Where are you, anyway? Don't answer, I don't want to know, go away

It all ends when you recognize that you've been walking the same circles around different places wanting to be the same place all your life. So I'm finally there, and we'll toast to that. A cheer to valor, may we come across it in our next life (this praying that atheism's right that nothing follows. You've a snowball's chance in Hell of finding valor in Hell)

Out of body

The eyes are the next to go. They see themselves, and then you realize that if you're just going to have your last sight be yourself, you really aught to drop the whole tangible mess altogether, given the sad state of affairs you present. Noble? Doubtful. We live our life thinking that we'll get to polishing our lackluster later, so it's kind of hard when you figure out that no, you never did get around to getting that nose job that would've made your face look even uglier, but since you never did, you don't know that

Look at it this way: You spent all this time lugging around in flesh, and now you can drop it off as a hopeless endeavor that falls apart faster than it comes about for the poor sod who thinks they've got a grasp on the whole ordeal. You can finally stop putting on lipstick in hopes it'll bring out the subtle nuances that everyone fails to see in contrast to that awful nose

Always blame the nose. Dive nose first, hoping the water will clobber it into something else. Anything else

Did I ever tell you about the man with a fist for a nose? No? Oh, well, he was pretty ugly. He ended up dying from blood loss after amputating it. He died happy

Are you happy? Ask yourself that the next time you laugh. If you're not, that's too bad. If you are, congratulations, you've accomplished as much as some ugly sod was able to by tearing off his nose. Maybe you can work on dying from blood loss without tearing off your nose next

Out of mind

Are you out of your mind? You're out of blood, you must be out of your mind! People don't realize how much those buddhists are total conmen until they finally go out themselves. Short answer: Nobody ever comes back. Those who do might as well have never left. Being clear of thought doesn't involve simply falling into a state of not recalling, it requires not recording too

As such there is little more to say before being out of ideas. With that in mind, I'll still claim that there's more to say than most have to say ever given the chance to say what they'd like to say about that. Either they'll regret never saying what they wanted to say, or they'll regret that and the fact that they could've. Fatal's etymology makes for a beautiful pun

Out of soul

Quit the regrets. Honestly, the last thing I regret is writing that little eroteme ecphoneme continuation (NB I tried alleviating its disappointment by adding in the first half of the second sentence) from the previous rant. Some people get by thinking they're alright because they think twice before speaking awfully. But look at it this way: they have to think those awful thoughts twice. So bravo for all those people who go on rambling shit all on shit all, you've obviously failed to realize the great investment it is to think an awful thought a second time to avoid thinking some other awful collection of things forever more

There's no debt to collect once you've got out of your soul. Judgement day? Good riddance, you can claim my lost soul when you find it at the bottom of a very long snout. It'll drag you even deeper. You'll know me when you know my name is the last of your worries

How odd it was to hear her echo his hopeless name. She's hopeless

Out of luck

Keep it up until you've reached the penultimate, out of spite for all those people who think luck's the first thing to go. If it's bad luck, all the better. If it's good luck, well aren't you lucky? Obviously not, all things considered at this point. But I'll not be so quick to judge, maybe you really did want to die when you decided to choose a method with such a low fatality rate. It's alright though, since the fatality rate of life is one hundred percent

Out of life

Life is a hopeless endeavor. Alright? Alright. So the who said the soul lasts longer than life? Oh right, those damn freaks who ramble about conservation of mass claim the body even outlives the life. Which, of course, you can verify by noting the fact that you see dead people. Those are called corpses, not bodies. Now put down the stick

Out of love

Oh god no; I'm a romantic, but I'm not romantic

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