If you wish to escape this ridiculous biological paradox that is reality, one must choose between insanity or death.

Those who haven't suffered the torments of the void, will never fully understand the value of happiness. In this strange way, darkness births enlightenment.

Reality is what happens when you let the inmates run the asylum.

We are the children of death. Know us by our scars, tears, and hatred. We are the shadows cast by your holy light.

The hand that saves you, is not the one that reaches for you. It is the one you choose to grab.

You had a life but you sold your soul. Lay down and die now it won't be long.

We are nothing. Embrace it or be consumed

If home is where the heart is, then my home shall forever reside in darkness.

Death is an art, and suicide is just a self portrait. A masterpiece of both pain and freedom.

And after centuries even the torments of hell become dulled