=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= ipf-1-hb -------- How bizarre. Streams of regret twist through my darkened soul. I see the light of reason permeate the translucent haze of my understanding but yet I still cower in the corner. Images of past defeat are the trademarks of my emotional compass. How many times have I wanted to go back? When did the resounding clamor of my promises dissipate? Why is it that I am here again? How bizarre. It has often been said that hindsight brings reason into a situation. But why is it that hindsight hounds me into turmoil? If reason exists in this contorted reality why can't I see it? I can feel the vibrating chords of regret's chorus resonate in the chamber of my heart. I can see the blinding images of my past as they shatter the lens of my soul. Is my existence a metaphor. Is a metaphor my existence? How bizarre. I see the actions which have driven me to the edge. I can nearly taste the tears upon my lips. Will a clinical diagnosis provide solstice? I doubt. Nothing more. The logical progression of ideal experiences are intoned in my conscienceness. But why can I not follow in the path of such logic? Why must I praise self-destruction like a golden calf? Even sleep deprives me of the escape it once provided. Dreams spit the cold venom of failure into the eye of sub-conscience. How bizarre. I love. I hate. I rage. Extreme emotions breathe the steady flow of life into the lungs of my mind. Introverted analysis paints a picture of mental calamity. Extroverted expressions swath the canvass of reputation with the dark brush of insanity, dripping with the black ink of Never Forget. How many visitors to the museum of my soul leave wanting a refund? How often are the paintings in my gallery scorned? Life is. Life was. Life will always be. The usher will seat you now. How bizarre. -. illusionary .- .- 15 apr 1997 -. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = = Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = = "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = = issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = = FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = = FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = = FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = = FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = = FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = = Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = = http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=