You dwellers of random keywords, led by cobalt stem cells from Dr Benway, gazing at trip-hop and dark train surroundings, you've reached the station where Stéphane Roux once was. There's an hotel-motel, sequels, victims and pixels escalate in thousand unities. It's about nihilism and the lack of it inflitrated in my free online book, The not-being. Millions of pixels are some sort of visual blog that may be title The not-seeing, in the end. Welcome to Islam Inc.Vous, chasseurs de mots-clés aléatoires, attisés par l'odeur des cellules souches couleur cobalt du Dr Benway, écoutant du trip-hop sur les larges avenues, vous avez atteint la station où était Stéphane Roux. Il y a un hotel-motel, des restes, beaucoup de déchets et de victimes, des pixels et des mots par milliers. On parle nihilisme et son absence, ab sens, le non-être. Un journal visuel ou pas grand chose de plus de ce qui restera sur terre de lui. Bienvenu à Islam Inc.
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Stuck and Struck
Stuck and StruckStuckOutside the mobile, absent at your door, lost in excuses, have mercy on parole. The motives were clear, the memes obvious, still the same feeling of degraded citizenship. I never was real, i never was right, neither did you had feelings about me. The silent breaks, the mecanical schism, discussions with a chemist as a therapy. Golden noon, all the dust that remains, the glitter of ashes and the bones. I wandered the wrong, i felt the void and enjoyed it. The casual fear of flying, meant by mean means. I was right about what's wrong with it but hte debugger turns false when it comes to fleshspace.Hidden sightI used to be mesmerized, now i fail to hope. Broken bones, the dope show is over, the carnival that never was has finished luring my inner cell. Now you know, there are things you can initiate to conjure but odds are you never will. You took the trip with the excuse to climb the pyramids whenn all you wanted was to contemplate the fall of the egyptian empire. There comes the vain and the blank, the tiny castles of sand i try to achieve when all you nned is more than i can proceed or afford. Insight and farewells.DepressedWhen the constant distress turns to depression, when the monet turns the chromatic serial, then something to brought to dust and there's no way back, no direction home. I discard this kind of perspective. Black wings just like the suffi's gospel. Being a goat. Not-being anymore. Hopeless as an ape loose, golden noon, blank moon, nevermidnight. She decides who to free and how to blame. To me freedom is not happyness but then there's this socialized context. I took you back to the station. I took off later for another coding span, but then again was i not really there. He who punishes, knew me from when, is about to leave me as a facility, facecious, commodity. If void is then i'd rather something else.Out of tuneIf ever was i sound enough to expell or compell. Bubblebath, stranger remains of dreams. No lushious fantasy nor deprecated tales of another death. It still does bleed if ever you were to ask. Olympic moods are for you. I wear the cases of casual. I go naked of moods, feisted of memories, helpless of love. The roots are only accounts to me and the shell is closed with the terminal if ever you ask me. I can't get a witness nor ask for a judge, all i need is a sparkling dying lamp, the lamb that shelter requires. Even though i'm unable to decipher, i'll ask for sign on this day.WolvesI heard them on the outside. I saw one in the mediation of a movie on a glass screen. I don't experience by myself but i seldom hear stories from the outside. Mediation and repetition were my last links. Now i'm brain gone, dead wrong and gray silenced. The lack of experience and opportune chances of acting make is oppositely difficult to realize. I don't have much more than remains of options, ashes of a status, dust of the possiblities to act or perform. That's 21 times than what it's worth, the same ratio than the probability of anything to change from that point of view. I won't challenge that king of a mess. I simply won't try any harder.WeaknessThat's how weak i am. Pokes and tiny calls, i'm on the way to the outisde of the city, the subburbs as it is at least doom. Strangers populating the place and a familiar face, once seen, long admired. The point as that it felt rejunivating. Not in the sense that i could be younger than i am but in the way that i dive in a well of newbornness. That how a wanker i am. I did dive. It stills feels like i'm up for grabs but that won't happen. Sandbox experiences. Closed circuit, uneasy but faithful smiles. That's how wrong i can get. Unable to decipher signs and read physical situations. Neither was i introduced, neither was i part of the show. Walked my way home.LunaticShe tried to tell me but i was def or already dead flesh. The tide is gone, let's play ping pong. It's her turn to do something. I've been accused in silence, same jokes about my dumbness, silent defences, you don't give a fuck. Sandboxed. I'll try to play cards a bit latter but there's no science about that, i'll have to blind guess for a infinite while. I've given some thought about the victims and i still thinksthat the odds have always been against me. Justice fades in time.UsurpationFake analyst plants seeds without a word or consequences. I feel so fake. No way home. I faked up all my stories, past failures and unopportune futures. That's how a false decoy i am. Days are gone ever since. Dices and fair enough game being. Velocities, urbanism of lies, consequences of being fake. The operators and the admins will find out about it. Regulation monster will invade fiscally to domain. More alarm clocks, false statements and reasons not to hope. I invest buti do feel likefor sale and on sale. At least did i used to be.ModelThe cover of a magazine, i want to see her again. Backwards. Swaping shrinks if it helps, neither the other side. Minister plan, gigs and booth, it's not looking good. The market is down, i'm up for grabs but they sell options as a lifestyle. Don't want to get stoned, tired of trying to find a home, incremental shelter, opera and action, tiny tears hidden inside. Lacks style. No good, no bueno, hustling myself in situ. Bank switch, new start, golden crowns and plain gold rings. Negation of myself, the feelings i don't have or can't pretend to handle. The not-being lasts forever.Remote viewTo meet her again. Optimetrics and statistics, odds and spectaculars. Nobody moves, rules laid still, the guidance or the instance, whatever she will offer. No class citizen being, i can't affor to make all the first steps. If you wanted to dance, if you needed to drink, what am i to do, waiting for the clue's signal. Signs i don't understand in real time, shifted from reallity, soundbites, pain and plain decay. Attacking memes, virus of their souls, being no class, dumber than your overage atom. Triplets in databases, i'm still waiting for a clear signal, a way of handling the fact that it ain't anymore. Tips on tape, whatever.ControlerRemote scriptingfor hours, i shall not be able to complete that level, too many signs and too weak a signal. Departed or dead, i am willing to try. This maze and the clues it includes are unsafe but i've been the gameall along the way. You make me crawl the floor, denial of citizenship, poor karma, lower counts, blood tense, streetwise. I step down and wait for something to strike even if it's yet another stroke. The time, the tide, how pretenscious. I don't care what it is, i spend my drugs to fight for castles in Ticcino. Deep inside, i don't have love.Seldom swapIt's destination is a shock, i end up talking like a cop, that's how bad i lost the point. Later, sooner, whenever. Who can't you trust ? The spin of the hospital prospect, that loathing, how low can you drown ? I forget myself in the contemplation of numb numbers, waiting for a foggy day to walk past the bus near the frontier. I am bored to death, litteraly. Discard.DownBeing down, don't want to be helped, don't want not get cured, down. Not-being, no transport, hunger gone, even less signal, nothing to decypher, blames and ashes. I give it all away anyway, coffee driven life, sometimes diet soda, a few bites and then long sleepy nights. I tend to accomodate my medication in order to be up earlier on shifted days. That's how sick i've turned, that's how far i am. I'm not in a station, i'm climbing the defences, down. Benway seemt worrysome about my status but i doesn't know half of quarter of what i indulge to myself. Broken bones, scarfed organs, dictatorship of the being, soul-less, sign-less, extreme pain affecting. I had stones and i had dust and it all ends up in space.WastedGoing under, null score, neither strokes, neither anything good. The junk is there inside. Long gone memories, ready for another session of fibers, let the realm of doom in, let them outside, we don't take no prisoner. This is understood and that is so much better. Stoned and dethrowned, what could beworse will end up there. Silence, no apetite, no reason to continue, days feel like numbers, all these years have passed me by, there's no space left for doubt, no reason to hope for anything. Period.NavigationPreviousHistoryNextEntretempsEn même temps, en français

The beat goes on and on but one question remains : :
Where am I ?

It's another fate, to conclude off the date,
The resistance of solitude, the wrong and the good.
Memories fade as the static elastic went spastic.
No good, no bueno, hustling myself.

Past the grace of the conjunction of tastes,
Junctions of the flesh, minimal windows of love,
There was a sign in the logs, and I wanted signals.
Brace yourself, mercy on demand. Shades.

Sunday, I'm not staring at the clock,
Mundane circumstances of the healing block,
I desire your being more than my tiny fare.
If the taste lasts, you let me go. Ever. Parted.

If there's fiction in my friction spell,
And the template of my temple remains,
There's a monolith I can tell, and use on the chains.
Be grave in that case. Collapse. Endure.

Nonetheless if be it, I'd rather enjoy the silence,
The rest of the peaceful soldier, the endgame,
The misfortune of the card, driving sane stances.
To heal might kill. Move on. Segments.

Judges jokes aside, if options off the fence reside,
The bliss of armageddon, my visions of dumbo's fate,
The axis you can't name, and the trade of the fabric.
Behold the one, unique. Long attractor.

Your boomerang of clay, at the pace of a slug,
Makes me wish and pray for something I can't cope with, the bug.
Morning came over from afar, and spores were magnetic. 
Who gave up ? Niñeto, the thief. Benway, the kiff ? I, the kiss.

I rang truce, I trowed the candle, I rejoice when relapsed. Simple.
In deed while alive, in still dreams of realization, I conquer and reckon.
This is the whisper. This is the voice to sing along. This is now.
The tormentor's bar has come to a closure. I'll be fine until then.

Sharp as your concept is, from the hoods of Bellinzona,
Through the tides of Ullapool, I remember the pace. 
In the echoes of Berwick the rhythm was with me.
The beat goes on. Endless. Inside.

When white is not enough, as the blank void attracts,
The obvious accretion of psychic delusions ends.
As naked goes the blade, the fear of flying strikes.
Addiction to dirt stones. Hardcore. Mental.

Gauges from the cyclic illusion of tears space,
We enter a zone of cryptic role playing habits.
Justice animates soul delivers, the rest is history.
I blame the ink. Partial. Unwilling to spare me.

Earlier, passenger to the sight of unused hues,
It trigger my fear with delays and frequencies.
Sea of sand, sky of remorse : I aim at the horizon.
There's no cheating. Division. Complex.

That's sums of it up so far, but the remains of the other side are there,
Patiently waiting in the shadows, as the eggs of civilians in Babylon.
As a shot of substance, in the acid room of us. Deprecated.
I resign to commit the delta. I refuse the punishment.

When doctors fight the disease, I dig the mine for metal,
As for the spice is strong, so that it awakes you at night.
Bring the noise, fill the shelter, feed the creature.
Process the flesh. Make it deviant. Breathless.

Here we are, in the room of seven seals, between the blue walls.
Reverb is calculated to match, but the attachment is sadly real.
Above the christ i used to be, lies a sinister gradient operator.
He decides who to free and how to blame. Uncertainty.

World of her, words of slipping pages in the wind. Terrace.
Long before ashes of logs, I had to figure out the curves.
Instantly I fire the right path, between the arms in the valley.
So low goes the quest, undecipherable as it seems, I went with the lyrics.

Coast to coast, host to post, he knew the trade of her game.
The letter arrived lately. I forgot the address and the name blurs.
Then, in a fashion of defiance, in a storm of dust, kingdom came.
It becomes obvious by now that it's a moth case. No losers. Even. Odds.

As the eunuch I impersonate there, chances are you'll dismiss and and pass me by.
That's when the sex turns true. That's when there's no money left for the taxi.
That's today and now, on the same cosmos. Naked. Silent. Honest.
She spells the alphabet on a string of DNA. There no hiding. Facade. Closure.

"Answer the flowers I laid on the carpet", replied the inner voice.
You assume too much and presume telepathy. I'm used to the scent.
We've been there, the storm strikes so loud, I can't here the rain.
That's the ecstasy of the situation. Nothing to do. Static station sound.
Oh, I miss you as the bird outside it's cage is free. Silver frequencies. Stripes.
Tease the gospel chord, strum the lines of magnitude. Again, and again.
If sail away in the meantime, I drift again from the bench at the belvedere.
In the interstices between the shifts, the unions trade latency for hope.

I remember ages of slept decay, of endless tribulations amongst the said and the told.
I deny. I bet on the wrong horses and poorly choose the color of my shirt. That's me.
Then again it's part of the process to handle and to cope with. Straight.
Don't pretend to escalate and be able to handle or you don't know me. And yourself.

That's the view of the sky over the dream, the pleasant dialogue of the deaf.
Paint it in a different color if you care. Come clean. Alone. The act forward.
The treat of the players before the cost of sweat. That's the aimless paradigm.
I have my load of questions and my greed to share is tense but restricted.