Introduction
I love the dominoes. That simple little flip of the finger and one after another down they all goes.
I’m waiting for whatever this feeling is I am having, to subside. For the tears to run their course on a long-dried face, now creased with desperation and despise. Loathing myself, I wish for an end, to be rid of this disease and my own trepidation. This glass armored man and his vile life fluid, that washes away my fleeting thoughts. while I vampire my way down to the very last drop. How then, do I rise from my position of servitude, how then do I stop? Loch Loa has his own silent form of control. Control over me and of my long lost free will.
Loch Loa silently demands you on your knees, so you become suicide by your own design when you bow before his throne. Much time is lost in a dizzying haze, pulled down to the depths of Loch Loa lake. So full of regret and unwelcome times, in bantering tongue that slur with no rhymes. A wonder indeed this monster…this demon…that serves hard injustice to men and women. It plagues day and night and knows little of time. This master Loch Loa serves up spirits and wine.
On the very first day, the thirst takes it’s grasp on a life that’s worth living; yet just out of reach. We see through the blindness of this nightmarish disease, and hope that one day our solace will breach. He causes disaster, divine ruination, calamity, deceit to cripple foundations. A manner of life that delivers terrible doubt. Behind a delightful face, your life he will rout.
All the pain you’ve tortured yourself with, pointing the fingers and keeping a distance. To all the love lost and not to be regained, dredging the bottom of Loch Loa lake. Cunning, baffling, and powerful, this demon Loch Loa is. Thrust upon his live-long throne and happy to be there, this master of ways to deceive the mind so frequently does he appear. He is liquid disease that plays tricks on your mind, as if he has a mind of his own, devoid of you. Desperate attempts to feebly maneuver yourself around such a threat end with confinement, jail and/or death. Those that choose to separate you from this monster Loch Loa see just how fruitless an effort it is. This bastard, this demon, this petty disease, often so often he dares to bring fiends.
This beastly negotiator tends to lend his hands into whatever conversation that you may draw from nightmares. His wondrous applause signals a night gone by so far-fetched, that even the bravest of dogs would not chase the stick. This disobedient pup, one of loyalty with the grandest schemes ensued, dares not seem too wonder how you might be included.
The Laser-eyed center of vision is the advertisement put upon you by this ill-fated beast. The last thing you want is the number of how to see from him, to say the least. It’s a despicable lie that draws many in, and sees not the color of your skin. So blindly he rages amid much sages and cowers to none in his wake. This wonderful illusion leaves you disillusioned staring down into Loch Loa Lake.
Call your friends, call your bosses and all who seem concerned. Lose your life and welcome a time, in reality ill-discerned. Loch Loa is indeed the remedy to all the things you’ve once deterred, and in time it’s a shame, because this friend is no friend, and indeed is a fiend, and the wonderful blunder to an unpolished glean that reality does portend.
Loch Loa, the ultimate sleep number for being what you are, the natural device to subside things that are. The way to be when you’re locked up in your mind and the digression of humor that reverberates through time simply…echoes across endlessness, in a sea of brilliant minds…. Minds that lost this fruitless battle to abstain. To sustain the presence in a moment that for once life smiled upon them, and that all is not lost in this momentary lapse of reason. For it takes a moment to strike, then all the apocalyptic horses make their way into your life.
Ka Dov, Rob Boun, and Weeb Nire all take the mantle of horsemen in Loch Loa’s insidious plan. They all simply stand still and take their place in erroneous delight. It’s a shame, looking through the glass this way, looking as if the end of the world has come and you’ve done little more than surrender your will to a vicious master of disguise. Causing you disgust for yourself and the insidiousness of formulating your own demise in such an obliterating way.
It’s all there, laid out before you in times gone by. By others who have managed to subdue but not fully over-come this creature of ravenous habits. This creature that kills from the inside out, after it’s taken your outside away. Stripped you of the dignity you may have once deserved, but now you’re alone, negotiating internal burns.
The horsemen love your hammering ways, to live out another too bright-a-day, day. To cause you to cower and stay in your bed, locked up from the outside world that promises flashes of dread. Dread of the past that you can’t remember because of Loch Loa your mind is dismembered, because of Weeb Nire your stomach is sour, Rob Boun and Ka Dov caused your head to feel dire.
To cause you to think things, that may not be there. Or, to help you forget that they might just be there. To quell a pain, to be your own therapy in the nights you can’t sleep; they will kill your dreams. Dreams for your children, dreams for your family, dreams for the ways you want the world to be. Dreams, as everything else in Loch Loa lake, get pulled to the bottom beneath still watered wake.
Not caused by others, the fault is your own. To have shaken hands with Loch Loa may find you in the blink of an eye, waving good-bye, to a life that may have been better. Yet, it cannot be helped, this is a disease and Loch Loa was your families’ friend. A longtime partner in many good times, but now the good times have come to an end. They went out with a bang, or was it a whimper, and now all of you is forgotten. Alone you attempt to swim to the top, but Loch Loa lakes undertow has pulled you under.
What a fitting end for a wonderful asshole, is possibly just how you’re remembered; what a cruel life it is when Loch Loa has you and you prefer a lonely place. A lonely place on the shores of Loch Loa lake and a moment here will introduce you to the after. The place where all your memories went, the place where you caused the fights. Where you stood and listened in swerving attention to things that you knew didn’t matter.
Loch Loa panders. “Look at all I have created with my mind, the disparaging all that has now become mine! Look, and see the things that I lay down before you in your own desperate time! What I do is not right. Yet, I beseech you, I’ll win, for I am Loch Loa the innocent sin. Day and night, I’ll tempt you with a good time, until you realize it’s too late for you. Until you cannot turn back and you’ve become the artist of your own affliction. How beautiful indeed my divine ruination! Look now as all that you know succumb to my liquid temptation.”
Loch Loa states. “When I am alone with you, I’ve found what I am looking for. When you cry ‘God you’ve forsaken me’ and beg ‘help me, I implore!’ When that hope has vanished and my bottoms up, you’ll see the depth of my world. I will have had my way with you and vanquished all the good unfurled.”
