Post by Jordan "Bullet Proof" Glass on Jun 3, 2007 15:47:31 GMT -5
| Give me the drug you know I'm after .. |
The wonder of the world is gone I know for sure.
All the wonder that I want I found in her.
As the hole becomes apart I strike to burn,
And no flame returns.
Every intuition fails to find it's way.
One more table turned around I'm back again.
Finding I'm a lost and found when she's not around.
When she's not around I feel it coming down.
Slow Chemical - Finger Eleven
---
How can we find ourselves trapped in our own private hells, where we just scream but no one can hear. X marks the spot where the deed begins. The treasure is found within the broken hearts that are soaked with fear.
Our own private hells, oh so quaint. Everyone has their own demons, and where would those demons come from, aside from hell? They are demons that can pop up at any time, any place, and that's what gets most people. They scream loudly deep inside themselves, trying to find those demons, but they never do.
They aren't prepared for what's going to happen, and they know it. Thing is, those demons have a set place and time that they have picked to come into view of the world. They mark their spot with an invisible X, and X that only they can see.
The real treasure is found when those demons are cast back into hell, but the only one who can do that is the person who they belong to. Nobody but that person can get rid of those demons, and nobody can help them. They're on their own.
But they're scared. They're scared shitless of what will happen when those demons appear, and then when they do, the person doesn't know what to do. They are fear-stricken pieces of ice, frozen in spot and unable to move to save their lives. That's what gets them killed, emotionally or physically.
For one man, it was emotionally. He was killed inside. He had no will to live after she left him, he was heart broken and spiritually broken down. He was running on empty, and he didn't know for how much longer he could go.
But he overcame it. He was happy again, and finally had someone else in his life. He still thought of her, but it no longer did it get him down.
He took his demons by the throat and cast them back into the fiery pit hence which they came.
He'd done it ..
---
For the first time in a long time he sat inside 'the' room. For some reason, it seemed much colder, darker than it ever had before. No light shone in the fireplace, no light trickled from burning candles and no light beamed through the shutters from the moon nor sun. All light was cut out, but somehow you could see everything in the room clearly ..
.. everything. The display cases around the room, filled with various artifacts from the Bullet Proof's past. On the wall, in it's glass case, was his replica of the Xtreme Championship Belt that he had been awarded for his own purposes when he lost the actual belt. It hung there on the wall, a reminder of what Jordan Glass once was.
But now he was above that. He was Mister Ultimate Assault. He had a chance to compete for the XVI World Championship at The American Dream. He realizes he's been dwelling on this, but it is such a humongous thing, to be able to say that you could be the World Champion of such an outstanding federation in less than a month.
He was sitting there, in his black leather sofa-chair. As per usual, he had a wine glass gripped between his first finger and his thumb. He swirled it around, the red liquid held inside it sloshing around against the sides of the crystal glass. As he did this, he watched it swirl.
His white t-shirt had a black design stretched across the front, which spiraled downward to the bottom of the shirt. The design seemed to continue on his light blue jeans, which hugged his well defined legs tightly. The black spirals continued down his jeans to the bottom hem, where his black Reeboks snugly sheltered his feet.
As he watched the red liquid swirl, he smiled, obviously thinking about something. Whatever it was, it made him smile .. and not many things were capable of making Jordan Glass smile.
Jordan ~ Red wine .. how it resembles blood so. I bet Ticker was thinking about blood a little after seeing his last promo. Sean McFry got drunk and crashed his car into a tree. How .. positively fitting to this situation.
Jordan lifts the wine glass to his lips, tipping it ever so slightly, letting the red substance trickle over his lips and venture over his tongue into his awaiting gorge. It ran down his throat, quenching his thirsts. Well .. one of his thirsts.
He then laid the glass on the mahogany table which, as per usual, was beside his chair. On it was a small, silver case.
Jordan ~ The reason I say this is because after Side Effect, Ticker will know the pain that his beloved ex-manager went through. After I am finished with you, BOY, you will know what it feels like to ram head first into a tree at a hundred miles an hour. I'm going to devastate you, Ticker. You can count on that.
Jordan reaches over to the table, picking up the small steel case. He unclasps the clip on the front of it, then flips it open, revealing it's contents. Inside are a row of Cuban cigars.
He takes one out, then flips the cover closed and clips it back together. Now he does something you haven't seen him do in what seems like forever. He looks at the cigar, and smirks. He raises up the hand that isn't holding the cigar slowly, and then snaps his fingers. Suddenly, the cigar is lit.
He puts the cigar between his lips and takes a long drag from it, then blows the smoke out in short spurts. As the smoke disperses and disappears, he removes the cigar from between his lips.
Jordan ~ You see, Ticker my boy, you're fooling yourself. No matter how hard you train you'll never be up to beating me. Hell, you'll never be up to competing against me. I have no idea why Makaveli put you in this match .. he knows you're going to lose.
Jordan licks his lips, moistening them before he continues.
Jordan ~ No matter, for however many 'gears you step it up' you can't take me out. There is not even a one in a billion chance of you winning this match fair and square. Therefore, I will be watching your every move kid.
He gets to his feet, still grasping the thick cigar between his fingers. His eyes drill into you, ripping at your very essence. You feel the pain that which he wishes to inflict and you want to look away ..
.. but you can't.
Jordan ~ That's right, little boy. You're loved and cared about ex-manager is in risk of dying, and you can do nothing to stop it. Not only that, but it's your fault. How .. soothing, isn't it? To know that a man who's done so much for you is now in risk of losing his life because of YOU and only you. Boy, how stupid can you get.
Jordan begins to walk across the room. He more like floats, seeing as he does not bob up and down as a normal person would as they were walking. He stops at the glass case that holds his Xtreme Title Belt.
He gazes into the case, examining the golden belt, scrutinizing its every detail closely. He does this for several minutes, then turns his deathly gaze back onto the camera.
Jordan ~ You see this? This is something you cannot say that you have accomplished. I have already been a champion here in Xtreme Vicious Intent. Can you say that? No, I don't think you can. Actually, I'm quite sure you can't. I was the Xtreme Champion, Ticker, and there's nothing you can say to make that worth any less. I have accomplished something here in XVI and you haven't, it's just that simple sonny.
Jordan turns so his full body is facing the camera. His dead gray eyes digging into yours, ripping you apart from the inside out. You can feel your very soul being shredded by the heinous presence of Jordan "Bullet Proof" Glass digging through your inner-most feelings and thoughts.
Jordan ~ Ticker, my boy, just you wait until I get my hands on you. You're going to feel a pain that you've never felt before. Glass is going to be ripping through your flesh like a rain of diamonds, boy. Just remember ..
.. needles prick, knives cut .. but glass scars, and I'm going to scar you boy.
Jordan leans in close to the camera, whispering ..
Jordan ~ Are you ready?
The camera dies, sending you spiraling into a world of static. Suddenly .. a voice pierces your ears from within the unknown.
---
The death and the life,
being ripped from within.
Are you ready? ..
For the fight of your life.
Because he will deliver
something that you never expected.
He is the King,
and he will rule.
| .. connect me and you can be my chemical. |
The wonder of the world is gone I know for sure.
All the wonder that I want I found in her.
As the hole becomes apart I strike to burn,
And no flame returns.
Every intuition fails to find it's way.
One more table turned around I'm back again.
Finding I'm a lost and found when she's not around.
When she's not around I feel it coming down.
Slow Chemical - Finger Eleven
---
How can we find ourselves trapped in our own private hells, where we just scream but no one can hear. X marks the spot where the deed begins. The treasure is found within the broken hearts that are soaked with fear.
Our own private hells, oh so quaint. Everyone has their own demons, and where would those demons come from, aside from hell? They are demons that can pop up at any time, any place, and that's what gets most people. They scream loudly deep inside themselves, trying to find those demons, but they never do.
They aren't prepared for what's going to happen, and they know it. Thing is, those demons have a set place and time that they have picked to come into view of the world. They mark their spot with an invisible X, and X that only they can see.
The real treasure is found when those demons are cast back into hell, but the only one who can do that is the person who they belong to. Nobody but that person can get rid of those demons, and nobody can help them. They're on their own.
But they're scared. They're scared shitless of what will happen when those demons appear, and then when they do, the person doesn't know what to do. They are fear-stricken pieces of ice, frozen in spot and unable to move to save their lives. That's what gets them killed, emotionally or physically.
For one man, it was emotionally. He was killed inside. He had no will to live after she left him, he was heart broken and spiritually broken down. He was running on empty, and he didn't know for how much longer he could go.
But he overcame it. He was happy again, and finally had someone else in his life. He still thought of her, but it no longer did it get him down.
He took his demons by the throat and cast them back into the fiery pit hence which they came.
He'd done it ..
---
For the first time in a long time he sat inside 'the' room. For some reason, it seemed much colder, darker than it ever had before. No light shone in the fireplace, no light trickled from burning candles and no light beamed through the shutters from the moon nor sun. All light was cut out, but somehow you could see everything in the room clearly ..
.. everything. The display cases around the room, filled with various artifacts from the Bullet Proof's past. On the wall, in it's glass case, was his replica of the Xtreme Championship Belt that he had been awarded for his own purposes when he lost the actual belt. It hung there on the wall, a reminder of what Jordan Glass once was.
But now he was above that. He was Mister Ultimate Assault. He had a chance to compete for the XVI World Championship at The American Dream. He realizes he's been dwelling on this, but it is such a humongous thing, to be able to say that you could be the World Champion of such an outstanding federation in less than a month.
He was sitting there, in his black leather sofa-chair. As per usual, he had a wine glass gripped between his first finger and his thumb. He swirled it around, the red liquid held inside it sloshing around against the sides of the crystal glass. As he did this, he watched it swirl.
His white t-shirt had a black design stretched across the front, which spiraled downward to the bottom of the shirt. The design seemed to continue on his light blue jeans, which hugged his well defined legs tightly. The black spirals continued down his jeans to the bottom hem, where his black Reeboks snugly sheltered his feet.
As he watched the red liquid swirl, he smiled, obviously thinking about something. Whatever it was, it made him smile .. and not many things were capable of making Jordan Glass smile.
Jordan ~ Red wine .. how it resembles blood so. I bet Ticker was thinking about blood a little after seeing his last promo. Sean McFry got drunk and crashed his car into a tree. How .. positively fitting to this situation.
Jordan lifts the wine glass to his lips, tipping it ever so slightly, letting the red substance trickle over his lips and venture over his tongue into his awaiting gorge. It ran down his throat, quenching his thirsts. Well .. one of his thirsts.
He then laid the glass on the mahogany table which, as per usual, was beside his chair. On it was a small, silver case.
Jordan ~ The reason I say this is because after Side Effect, Ticker will know the pain that his beloved ex-manager went through. After I am finished with you, BOY, you will know what it feels like to ram head first into a tree at a hundred miles an hour. I'm going to devastate you, Ticker. You can count on that.
Jordan reaches over to the table, picking up the small steel case. He unclasps the clip on the front of it, then flips it open, revealing it's contents. Inside are a row of Cuban cigars.
He takes one out, then flips the cover closed and clips it back together. Now he does something you haven't seen him do in what seems like forever. He looks at the cigar, and smirks. He raises up the hand that isn't holding the cigar slowly, and then snaps his fingers. Suddenly, the cigar is lit.
He puts the cigar between his lips and takes a long drag from it, then blows the smoke out in short spurts. As the smoke disperses and disappears, he removes the cigar from between his lips.
Jordan ~ You see, Ticker my boy, you're fooling yourself. No matter how hard you train you'll never be up to beating me. Hell, you'll never be up to competing against me. I have no idea why Makaveli put you in this match .. he knows you're going to lose.
Jordan licks his lips, moistening them before he continues.
Jordan ~ No matter, for however many 'gears you step it up' you can't take me out. There is not even a one in a billion chance of you winning this match fair and square. Therefore, I will be watching your every move kid.
He gets to his feet, still grasping the thick cigar between his fingers. His eyes drill into you, ripping at your very essence. You feel the pain that which he wishes to inflict and you want to look away ..
.. but you can't.
Jordan ~ That's right, little boy. You're loved and cared about ex-manager is in risk of dying, and you can do nothing to stop it. Not only that, but it's your fault. How .. soothing, isn't it? To know that a man who's done so much for you is now in risk of losing his life because of YOU and only you. Boy, how stupid can you get.
Jordan begins to walk across the room. He more like floats, seeing as he does not bob up and down as a normal person would as they were walking. He stops at the glass case that holds his Xtreme Title Belt.
He gazes into the case, examining the golden belt, scrutinizing its every detail closely. He does this for several minutes, then turns his deathly gaze back onto the camera.
Jordan ~ You see this? This is something you cannot say that you have accomplished. I have already been a champion here in Xtreme Vicious Intent. Can you say that? No, I don't think you can. Actually, I'm quite sure you can't. I was the Xtreme Champion, Ticker, and there's nothing you can say to make that worth any less. I have accomplished something here in XVI and you haven't, it's just that simple sonny.
Jordan turns so his full body is facing the camera. His dead gray eyes digging into yours, ripping you apart from the inside out. You can feel your very soul being shredded by the heinous presence of Jordan "Bullet Proof" Glass digging through your inner-most feelings and thoughts.
Jordan ~ Ticker, my boy, just you wait until I get my hands on you. You're going to feel a pain that you've never felt before. Glass is going to be ripping through your flesh like a rain of diamonds, boy. Just remember ..
.. needles prick, knives cut .. but glass scars, and I'm going to scar you boy.
Jordan leans in close to the camera, whispering ..
Jordan ~ Are you ready?
The camera dies, sending you spiraling into a world of static. Suddenly .. a voice pierces your ears from within the unknown.
---
The death and the life,
being ripped from within.
Are you ready? ..
For the fight of your life.
Because he will deliver
something that you never expected.
He is the King,
and he will rule.
| .. connect me and you can be my chemical. |
