So, lets talk about - I

[kulla]

I cannot die because it is a necesity born out of a pain that we know will come again. why do you cut my feet from under me and then point to the closet and say "there! there is your crutch. your I. you need it". I is a walking stick, not a best friend. what does one need I for when one can fly with the wings of one, linguistically speaking? what does one need I for when one has already found a new idol, greater, fuller and more compact, selfishly speaking? but even one is not enough. and if nothing is too much and one is not enough, what then, what? dance to the god of the sun!?

to **** all those that put me in the rails that can only take me to explored lands. I am a boat and I'm waiting for the sun too, for it's cloudy and I cannot make out the stars. but maybe the sun is a walking stick, too. I'll roam under dark clouds.

I'm tired of I. I have good feet.

[Albioni]

I am me, and I can’t talk about I, because I don’t even fucking know who I is.

This is so funny because everybody is bullshitin the I of themselves

[Cruel]

hehehe...

...I was about to write some more about the drunk -I- and its "intellectual wannabe" bullshit, but I think you simply summed it up. The way "i" see it, BULLSHIT, is the key to the illusion of happines.

[Cruel]

It was long time ago when -I- renounced of it's "divinity". Since than I has become the black sheep of the self.
What happened to "me"? "Me" lost its innocence before the first orgasm was stolen from the March of broken smiles

Leave the moon to -I-. for "me" used to aim for the Sun. At the end it will be called the "Revenge of the Moon".....but is it really necessary

[kulla]

oh but I is still the pope, and the pope's balls are bigger than melons. either that, or it's wet a couple of cherrys more than the others to really be the pope. in stra's terms: big balls, big power, bigger territorial pissings, biggest masturbator in the whole fucking world. how many apples does I need to renounce "divinity"? even if the whole world was made of apples, each full of worms or snakes, I is still god, because I wills it so. the real question is, how big can the buble get, or even, how strong is that condom? me? that's the real bullshit. revenge of the moon? hihihihi! I bites when the sun is at the summit, when me and I are "one". can you vomit enough? it smells very familiar. my new favorite word: hipocrisy. well? vomit! I doesn't see very well on the dim light of the moon.