Connecting the disconnected

Four digits, one guess.

2010-04-03T03:16:00.003+08:00

Your trust in me is peculiar. I don't like you. Why must you all burden me with your complications? Am I that stable?
You can trust me, fire demon, for I have your back, as much as your very name displeases me.
I'm that wall, that rock that you pile your baggage unto another, and know my safe is locked, my code unknown. But isn't it obvious? I flaunt my password, my key hangs low between my breasts, accessable to all who dare reach.
I may be complex, but all my puzzle pieces are visible to those that look.
I will do your bidding, because it makes me feel important, and it is I you have entrusted with this mission. But don't you know? I never follow through with my plans...
But then, I never break a promise.
I hesitate to promise you that I will.
It's on my To Do list, you know, the one that seeps procrastination and lacks progression, but I have not promised anything.
If the opportunity arises, and it strikes my fancy to aid your confusion, then so be it, consider it done. If not, find a friend to rest your worries in the hands of, instead of simply me, a lurking enemy in the game of the mind, yet an ally in the ways of the world.
If I see you in the future, my eyes will glint with admiration and loathing, I will quiver in fear before your tower of mental domination, as your control and bitter words effect me like no others could ever induce.
I do hope to see you in the future, for I see that no matter who I lose, and who goes seperate ways and whatnot, that you and I are tied, even if we are reluctant to acceptour interwoven fate.
You can trust me, yes, but do not put all your faith in me. I am just as hopeless as you, and I to, am always running, hiding, shaking.
I know you better than most, and you sure know me, isn't it scarey when one can penetrate your darkest personality traits uninvited? I guess that's why we are so opposed to one another, the mind is supposed to be a safe place, and yet tendrils constantly probe.
And yet, their is some comfort in this, and while we may threaten eachother on so many levels, our boxes are locked with the very same code.
Don't you know what it is?
Four digits, one guess.

the Height of Arrogance

2010-03-31T15:37:00.002+08:00

"I'm imitating God".

"Well who is God imitating?"

"... Me".

I envision the satisfaction I will feel when my fist colliding with your face. It's perfect.

You run around, "you do not have a soul", and my unlimited rage was released in your direction in the form of words, I ended it with 'you can't handle your alochol' and someone directed a THWACK to your crotch.

He showed me some affection yesterday just gone. It was unexpected from he with the pretty face, as he stroked my hair and told me he was leaving. We both realized that the last person we had sex with was eachother. It was sort of sweet and romantic admitting that, so I quickly turned it into a competition as to who could get laid next first.

"I know some things"

"Yes, you carry them around in a rucksack"

"Yeah, and if I lose one, I go back and pick it up again"

"I have too much knowledge to keep it in a rucksack, so I just call it the universe".

I try to tell them I am not arrogant, to ignore all previous commentgs involving myself as a Godlike figure, and argue that I can't help it if I AM always right. The amount of times I've been wrong I can count on my fingers! And it's actually quite correct. I can't help it, either, if acid fuels my ego.

Ah, but my love for dear Lucy is incredible.

And I quote "Acid is my mistress, but weed is my bitch".

Procrastination

2010-03-23T20:24:00.002+08:00

I'm approaching a vital point in my journey, the decision to continue progression, which may be difficult and would involve my stubborn self bending a little, becoming a little more pliable. To me, this is sort of a step backwards, but I guess in order to go forward we sometimes have to make those steps. One step backwards, ten steps forward.

However, my pride and willpower happen to be what helps me move along and stay above water, but perhaps it's time I learned to swim. I have not made a move, lately, I have been flitting in and out of extensive dramas, making out like I'm doing something. In truth, I haven't done a whole lot of anything lately, I haven't even had anything to write, and I certainly haven't learned a great deal.

I guess I just keep on thinking, "Oh yeah, I'll do it later", but later comes and I still do not move. It gets blurry and meaningless, and when I do not have goals and I am not progressing, my depression seeps back in. I need to be focused, determined, continuous.

It's just that, I have no clue what I want to do with myself, but I can no longer find comfort in doing nothing. Fun isn't really satisfying when it's all I'm ever doing, comfort just isn't effective when I know it isn't mine to find comfort in...

I learned to find great comfort in my insanity, and now it is melting away and I feel trapped, claustrophobic. I don't want to be this, and it is disappointing because I worked so dam hard to build a self I was comfortable and happy with.

This is just for procrastination, though. This isn't a leap in the arts, and I'm sure I've posted several blogs conveying these feelings earlier in the month. I just can't seem to gain focus or energy. My, even my thoughts have become cloudy and lazy!

My birthday approaches. I wanted a Mad Hatter's Tea Party. I've been talking about it since last year. Now, just over a week remains. I don't think it's going to happen.

One thing I can not stand is when people disappoint themselves. I just disappointed myself.

NBK on LSD.

2010-03-16T19:52:00.002+08:00

I've been told to watch Natural Born Killers, and there's a 'I need to watch this film' in the pit of my stomach. I dropped some acid, and we sat down to watch this film. It came to the seen with Mallory's pig of a father, and his very face turned my trip a little off. He's what we call an ugly, a trigger that turs your trip bad.
The whole scene was so strange, I think there was laughter, like a crowd watching a comedy, only there was nothing funny about it. I was wondering the whole time if this was even the same film, and I thought "I shouldn't be watching this" directly after the father makes that comment about coming up to see how clean she was, and all I could say was "This movie is so fucked!".
There was the scene where Mallory is standing on the car, dancing, appears to be on acid, the way she's talking all floaty-like, and I remember thinking "Wow, she reminds me of me".
It warps in and out, the art of making serial killing creative and beautiful, romantic blew my mind, the filming spectacular, a true work of art.
The scene with the rattlesnakes comes up, and terror strikes me, like I'm standing in a pit of snakes, and I feel that fear of being bitten, panic, flipping out. The scene with the mushrooms did a similar thing, I thought "Wow, this is like that acid fear of the person you're being with not being them". Hit me hard.
Next to the father scene I described above, the other part that distrubed me greatly was with Jack and the girl, and watching her face, it was as if she was warping in and out of a bad trip. One moment, she was okay with Jack and what they were doing, and then when he'd say "Kiss me", her face would come over with pure terror and she'd back away, all like "What the fuck? I don't want this", and he would scare her and disgust her. I've felt that so many times, it's horrible.
My most favored part is Mickey's interview, and as soon as he started speaking, I thought "This guy reminds me of Phoenix". As the yinyang flashed across the screen, my thoughts were confirmed and I was convinced he WAS Phoenix.
I especially enjoyed when he said "It's just murder. All God's creatures do it. You look in the forests and you see species killing other species, our species killing all species including the forests, and we just call it industry, not murder".
I thought, 'This guy makes more sense then anyone I have ever met".
Also, when he said "You'll never understand, Wayne. You and me, we're not even the same species. I used to be you, then I evolved. From where you're standing, you're a man. From where I'm standing, you're an ape. You're not even an ape. You're a media person. Media's like the weather, only it's man-made weather. Murder? It's pure. You're the one made it impure. You're buying and selling fear. You say "why?" I say "why bother?"
GOD DAMN! This guy is so fucking enlightened! Was magical.
The scene of their escape, using the media as a sheild was very adrenalin-pumping, passionate and classy. I felt deep satisfaction as Jack was shot, having so much hatred for his disgusting being. I enjoyed the way the film showed that EVERYONE is fucked up, nobody is innocent, there is no good guy.
Mickey made a point, a man of integrity. Mallory was kind of drug-induced insane, Mickey was perfectly sane however.
"If I don't kill you, what is there to talk about? "
I have much admiration for Mickey, and after the film I lay shocked for so long, wondering how such a masterpiece could possibly exist. I'll have to watch it again, when not tripping off chops, but I'm certainly going to place it in my top favored films, right next to Waking Life.
Fucking amazing. :D

Deathclock.

2010-03-13T20:05:00.003+08:00

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

That is your deathclock.

There is an aching chime in the winds, amidst the change, amidst the approaching downfall of all perfection.

The pocketwatch is impatient and furious like angry winds of insanity.

The little doll with eyes of analysis are judging, solving, picking, grinding. Pretty hips grind, grind, grind to the demon-dark musical!

Flowers dripping with blood, the weapons oozing the seed of the devil, bruised breasts and broken condoms.

Oh, it's magical! To taste the fear, to taste the mascara tears mixed with the bitter sweet red liquid!

Tick, tock, tock, tock.... tock... tock...

Harassed and deflowered, used and abused by the monster fucktools of demons, little moans of pleasure and glorious screams of pain!

As I look into your bleeding eyes, your broken, purple face I'm so certain I am in love with you.

Sex on the beach is sandy.

2010-03-13T13:57:00.002+08:00

After an epic trek to a fail party, myself and this pretty little fgt decided to bail, get some sleep. He kept on asking "What do we do when we get to Charles Street?". I'm half-drunk, and feeling awkward, so I just shrug my shoulders, but I do agree that we should get naked.
Unfortunatley, after half an hour waiting for a train, whilst he half-jokes for me to suck his cock, we get kicked off for lack of a ticket. Tired, lost and cold, my clothes being drenched and neither of us having a clue where we've been kicked off, we wander aimlessly to a beach and lay down.
Once more, he tries to convince me to suck his cock, and I'm like "Hellz nah!" and he's like "There's a first time for everything" and I'm like "No, nevar!". So he's like "K, at least gimme hand", and I'm like "Hellz nah! I aint touching that dirty thing!".
I must admit to him that I am a selfish lover, and we discuss the idea of having sex for a while, because I've had my eyes on this one. (Though, I must say, I didn't really expect to end up in such a miserable state JUST to get laid).
"Kay, at least cuddle me". This gets boring after a while... "Kay, at least kiss me". "Yeah, now that you've asked me to, it'd be hell awkward, as if I'm following orders, which I never do".
We're well convinced that this is the most ridiculous sex attempt yet. He gets his hand in my pants, but I can't stop laughing at the hilarity of the situation. After some flirtatious chatter, it is a right moment to kiss, and such.
"I'm having dirty thoughts".
"Oh yeah? Like if I get on top of you like this... spread your legs, like this... Is that what you're thinking?"
He looks hell sexy right about now. "Yes, exactly. But you're just teasing, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am".
We stay in this manner for a little while....
"You got protection?"
"Finally!", I sigh, and dig about my bag.
"Hurry up, Ferret!" he says, whilst roaming about between my thighs with his hand.
"Hurry up, faggot!", I say in return as he attempts to ready his weapon.
"Shut up, bitch".
This is good, now. There is some soft biting, spanking, hair-pulling, deep penetration, and even when he flips me to my knees, some asphyxiation. T'is goooood.
This goes on for LOOOOONG time ;D, with me laughing at everything from time to time because I can't take anything seriously. But fuck off, jokesex is win.
When he finishes, he asks me how it was, leaning into my ear from behind, all sexy like. "That was...not ridiculous?"
Because I'd been talking about how ridiculous every other fucking thing all night had been. Was good sex, man. Was probably worth it.
And then it's all like "K, let's go to sleep. Bai".
Wake up, half naked, at a busy beach, and some woman is all like "Hey, girls. Are you okay?", and I lol. She thinks my pretty fgt is a girl. ^^
-Crosses that one off the To Do list-.

It seems, the only thing I have to write about these days is love and lust. I kind of fail, I'm heeeeelll losing my writing skills. Sadface.

Sobriety & Sleep-Deprivation

2010-03-10T22:58:00.002+08:00

Dear bloggery. (I would suggest not to read this, as is merely myself, very sober and 6 days near sleepless, recording my troubles so I can review them when I am in a more off chops, rested state).

Insomnia has some strange effects on my old self. I just can't seem to sleep, but I'm not really awake enough to function properly.
It does however give me a more accurate understanding of an individuals psychology, which has been helpful. Also, maybe the sleep-deprivation, or maybe the Change itself, but I'm having this magical ability to make my thoughts manifest into reality directly before me.
I also am falling a little off balance. I have not eaten LSD for over a month, I have been drunk once this month, high once. Sobriety doesn't agree with me.
I'm also having a lot of sex. Too much, for my liking, it is messing with my pride meter. I don't REGRET any of the people I have slept with, but I do not wish for sex just for lust, it disturbs me greatly, and so far, I have only fucked friends or people I had infatuation for.
I feel I might change.
I also discovered I can be an easily deceived BITCH. Honestly. I have been a total CUNT lately, and I don't like myself this way. I think it IS the sleep-deprivation and not that I am utterly losing the self I worked so hard to build.
I also think, since most of my hard-worked character came from using LSD to alter myself for the better, ad since it's been the longest break I've had since I first took the shit... I may be... Becoming sane again.
I hate that.
One thing this sober, sleep-deprived state has done for me is heightened my concentration. I can actually pay attention, gather information, and watch the pieces fall into place.

I so need Acid and Sleep.

Don't eat trains, bro. Can't digest metal.

2010-03-06T20:28:00.005+08:00

Pure Morning.

I'm sitting on the wall, daylight has just broke, the sun is welcoming me, yet I shy away from it. The Messiah appears, begins singing songs of heartbreak, and I sigh as it is so fitting to my current state. We wander around for a while, getting some crackers, cheese and mocha and having a little feast. The devil child approaches us, as do two young girls and we roam about initiating random conversation with passers-by, laughing at the Messiah's attempts to hook-in with the pretty girls that wander by.

Carton in hand, we wander to the tree by the glasshouse and get our drunk on, discussing this ad that under nature's shelter. The conversation turns to me, and how wonderful I am. "Do you know what wonderful means?". I am told how much I am loved, it is always beautiful to hear those words from those I also love.

On returning to the wall, my body falls automatically into the Angel's, and we hold each other for what seems like forever, breaking apart only for him to spin me around or plant kisses on my face. "You are just who I wanted to see", I tell him, burying my face into his chest. "Each moment without you hurts". He whispers in my ear, "Each second without you is heartbreak".

The two of us skip hand in hand to the church, and douse ourselves in holy water, his presence so comforting and perfect to my battered soul. On leaving the church, I bolt full speed to my Dear one, holding her to me. I then get upon my knees before her and offer her a rose. "I love you, I miss you, all apologies etc". She tells me she forgives me, giggling so cutely.

I am surrounded by wonderful souls, each of those beautiful people I'd been thinking so frantically of just hours before. I nestle on the grass with a select few of them, and we share ideas, poetry and love. Darkness is approaching, and the Angel lifts me to my feet and carries me to the presence of Angie, where the Mad Hatter stands."Oh, and could Ferret be invited?". I am now invited to a glorious party.

And only the best, the best company I should have! The one with Eyes like Ice takes me aside, telling me he has something important to say, that no one should eavesdrop upon. He wishes to discuss my Angel. "You know how you think he's so lovely? Yeah, well I think something will happen tonight that will show you how full of deceit he is".

It's suspicious, as the party crew get off the train, I overhear his conversation with a girl. His Eyes like Ice lock on mine. "It's just that she keeps hanging around --- and -----", he says to her, looking into me. "And there will come a time when 'I told you so' won't be good enough because the damage will already be done".

Dark Night

My paranoia is seeping in again, due to sleep deprivation and my idea that such a perfect day could naturally only be followed by a disastrous night. The girl with the Perfect Smile can relate to this, as we discuss all manner of things. All though I love her for all eternity, my trust for her died centuries ago.

I spend my eve watching him watching me, and listening to people silently judging me. I carry out a young boy's wishes of 'to make him melt', as his is on acid and I am renowned for loving headgames. I plant the seed: "A whole room full of people trying to send you insane". I then subjectify him, have a room full of eyes solely devoted to his tripper form. He is now quivering in a chair, with an adorable scared look on his face at every movement or word from anyone.

I've allowed him to drive himself paranoid. He goes to take a drink, I shake my head, his lips getting closer, I facepalm."I don't want it! It's dangerous!". Perfect. I then proceed to pass him various drinks, eagerly encouraging him to drink. He is now melted. In the morning, he tells me he never wants me to do that again. All I did was plant a seed! D:

The characters I shared that eve with, which never turned wrong as I thought, are the epitome of life. She with the Perfect Smile, who I shall never trust. He with the Eyes like Ice, who is very good at fucking with my head! The Mad Hatter, The Messiah, The Angel. Perfection, it was.

He with Eyes like Ice planted a seed in my reality... My suspicion was hectic that eve. My eyes darting from him to The Angel, trying to think of whom did I trust more of the two. I wish you would all just come out and say it to me, ffs.

Regardless, a wonderful day followed by a wonderful night, and my is Angie'shouse marvellous! Each of the characters was wonderful and beautiful, and I thank the universe for allowing me knowledge of such beings.

Still...If you could just say it...

I love you.

Comedy & Tragedy

2010-03-04T21:25:00.003+08:00

False politeness, panic with a dogface, two-faced.
The fractal spirlal of one tragedy to the next, and the fine like between comedy and tragedy.
Words and slander attempting to bring you down, like taking their wicked lies of guilt out upon you for you are the shameless. You are the unbroken and the proud.
Watch them wilt like the roses on the deathbeds of their dying mothers.
Watch their guilt and shallow nostalgia and naive vanity overpower them.
False smiles and feigned politeness followed by wicked tangents attempting to bring you down, the rotting flesh of their dying mothers reaking at the nostrils of the living, the undefiable pain and suffering. Ah, but the pain of another is just so hilarious, so let us laugh at the corpse locked in the cellar, let us laugh at the basking misery of the abused children, left to rot in the care of wicked men.
Let us turn out politness and love and care into snide remarks and laughter, because that is so much easier then compassion, it makes us cool and sturdy to laugh at the misfortunes of the others, it makes us strong and immortal, so laugh with me nao at the misfortunes of others. There is a fine line between tragedy and comedy.

The birth of all evil.

2010-03-04T04:36:00.002+08:00

Put all your love into just one thing, go on, do it. Do you know the risk you run of becomming attached? Do you know how it feels to have your heart crushed and stomped before your very eyes?

When that love that you love just doesn't love as much as you love.

It hurts, doesn't it? Wouldn't you much rather be a solid, cold rock incapable of love?

Females are the epitome of evil, the fruit of temptation, the wicked little whores that lure you in then pierce your very heart with their 6 inch stilletos.

Eve was the birth of evil, Adam was the birth of the manipulated man who put his entire heart into just one thing, to have it crushed and stomped before his very eyes.

Females take, take, take, give nothing back, then act like innocent little pretty things. Hit the bitch, hit her hard, she can take it, she deserves it.

Females think that by sitting, looking pretty, they can get away with anything, and the foolish heart of man will forgive their wicked sins. Do not forgive the Devil. Do not forgive the horrid little seed of demons. Do not forgive the slut that left you to wither and rot.

Hit the bitch, smack her good, she can take it, she deserves it.

Let your inner voice be heard!

2010-03-04T00:51:00.002+08:00

And so, after reading through these blogs, I come to the conclussion that this is nowhere near my full potential. I know very well what I am capable of, and whilst art and discovery lay amongst my previous works, it is surely not the best I can be.

I have grown so much, more then I ever thought possible. Just one year ago, I was a trembling little rabbit incabable of speech, a little girl lacking in pride and full of shame. I was a nobody, a nothing, and while I had all of the right instruments within me to be great, I lacked the motivation and the confidence.

A year later, and I am a young woman with no shame and an abundance of pride. I know who I am, and by the Gods, am I proud to be this. If only you could see me now, fallen Angel. If only we could share words now, Doctor A. If only we could be alone together now, Mad Hatter. If only you would take me back, demon of knowledge.

A lifetime of tragedy and pain, cause and effect, has left me with an understanding of how cruel this world can be, and a need to do what I can to repair it, to help the others understand and to at the very least, create smiles on the pretty faces. Myself and my girlfriend are entirely alike in our tastes, we like the same music, the same drugs, the same people, the same kind of sex... But it is our passions that are so varied, and many people fail to see that this is what sets us apart.

I am assertive, proud, stubborn, angry and passionate.
She is passive, indifferent, stubborn, apathetic and submissive.

My opinions and passions matter to me a great deal in this life on this treasured earth. My heart cracks and aches as I watch the army of ants, mindless drones, flock of sheep wander on by without a care, living by the motto of "I may not agree with what is going on, I may see it is wrong, but there's not much I can do, so I'll try to accept it".

Wrong you are, how very wrong. You are the bystander in the destruction. History shows that one man (or woman) can in fact have a possitive (or negative) influence on the world, alone. There are many such types of people with this belief, and you choose to sit back in a world you know is wrong, not even raise your voice. You lack in passion.

By simply doing nothing, no right or wrong, you are supporting the wrong. There is a place in hell for those who do no wrong, and no right, according to Dante's Inferno. This is a place reserved for the fence-sitters, and whilst they never sinned, they sat back and watched, and did no good for their world, or anyone or anything in it.

I am not saying I truely believe in hell, but I do believe that the sins recited are such that we should try to stay clear. (Not all of them, obviously, such as being a non-believer). But there are words of wisdom in every faith, every belief.

You can do something. I do not know how the passive mind opperates, I myself never hesitating to raise my voice, and being deemed arrogant for it, but I would say indeed that by doing nothing at all, meerly getting by, surving, you are doing perhaps a far more terrible thing then by sinning yourself. There is at least creation in destruction, and at these the sinners would not waste their lives.

You see, in this modern age, for human beings, it isn't just about surving now. We must do much more then this on order to feel accomplished, in order to feel satisfied and comfortabe. I myself strive for comfortability, love and admiration. Above it all, however, is my desperate need to save this earth and each creature that inhaits it,to have a possitive influence on humanity and the future.

Now this may seem like a goal one woman alone could not fullfill, but this is not the case. As I stated, many solo beings have achieved great and terrible things since the dawn of Time, and I believe that if you are determined and passionate enough, anything is possible. It is a crucial point in history, and it is the most exciting possible moment we could hope to be alive.

I fight for love, which may be as redundant as trying to prevent deforrestation in a desert, but I shall not be crushed beneath them. I will not use violence, or harm anyone or anything, I haven't killed even a fly since I was a child. How to get te message across? How to spread the awareness? How to convince people that we can, and we will fight, for what we believe to be right?

I have been trying desperatly for a long time, and I will keep trying until the day that I die. I will continue to write, and sing, and speak of everything I ever learned, felt, thought, spoke. I will not sit back and watch myself be used and abused by a world that doesn't care! Perhaps you can live with yourself, perhaps when it's all said and done you'll lie, and say you did the best you could, knowing very well that you did nothing.

But you can do something, even the smallest steps count, even the quietest of whispers count, and eventually, they will have to hear us! They will not be ale to ignore us any longer, for we will rise from the ashes of the brave new world, and we will conquer the darkness with our eternal love & light!

This is what we were born to see, to witness the revolution, and not only witness it, but make our mark in history itself. We clench our fists, but we love unconditially. 'We are Anarchists of good taste, we are terrorists of untruths!'. Stand up, fight back for the soul they stole the moment you were born and do not... Do not suffocate that inner voice that wants to scream, let it be heard!

Calling all who have ever felt like there was something wrong with the world, felt like change was in order, felt unwanted, abused, mistreated, scammed, fucked over. Calling all who would wish to see a brighter future, who would wish to see a longer standing for our earth, who would wish to see our colors shine instead of being inked into a mist of black!

I will not stop, I will not rest, you will wake up, and when you do, you will know your purpose. The world is waiting.

All my love is with you.

Okay, I believe you, but my Tommy Gun don't.

2010-03-03T07:50:00.003+08:00

I am heaven sent,
Don't you dare forget.
I am all you've ever wanted,
What all the other boys all promised.
Sorry I told.
I just needed you to know.
I think in decimals and dollars.
I am the cause to all your problems,
Shelter from cold.
We are never alone.
Coordinate brain and mouth.
Then ask me whats it like to have myself so figured out.
I wish I knew...

I hope this song starts a craze.
The kind of song that ignites the airwaves.
The kind of song that makes people glad to be where they are,
With whoever they're there with.

This is war.
Every line is about,
Who I don't wanna write about anymore.
Hope you come down with something they can't diagnose, don't have the cure for.
Holding on to your grudge.
Oh, it's so hard to have someone to love.
And keeping quiet is hard.
'Cause you can't keep a secret
If it never was a secret to start.
At least pretend you didn't wanna get caught..

We're concentrating on falling apart.
We were contenders, we're throwing the fight
But I just wanna believe, I just wanna believe,
I just wanna believe, in us.

Oh, we're so c-c-c-c-c-controversial.
We are entirely smooth.
We admit to the truth,
We are the best at what we do.
And these are the words you wish you wrote down.
This is the way you wish your voice sounds,
Handsome and smart.
Oh my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart.
And it's all from watching TV,
And from speeding up my breathing.
Wouldn't stop if I could.
Oh it hurts to be this good.

You're holding on to your grudge.
Oh it hurts to always have to be honest
With the one that you love.
Oh, so let it go..
We're concentrating on falling apart.

We were contenders, we're throwing the fight
But I just wanna believe, I just wanna believe,
I just wanna believe.
We're concentrating on falling apart.
We were contenders, we're throwing the fight
But I just wanna believe, I just wanna believe,
I just wanna believe, in us.

This is the grace that only we can bestow.
This is the price you pay for loss of control.
This is the break in the bend,
This is the closest of calls.
This is the reason you're alone,
This is the rise and the fall.

We're concentrating on falling apart.
We were contenders, we're throwing the fight
But I just wanna believe, I just wanna believe,
I just wanna believe.
We're concentrating on falling apart.
We were contenders, we're throwing the fight
But I just wanna believe, I just wanna believe,
I just wanna believe, in us.

Cheshire Cat smile.

2010-03-02T21:04:00.000+08:00

Cheshire Cat, with your darting in and out of my radient reality, half-smile and pride, so intelligent, I just know you like headgames, vote insanity, we're all mad here... Those eyes boaring into my mind, antenna feeling for any concious thought, and you find it, that's why you like me, Cheshire Cat, but you can't resist a mindfuck. Fucking my mind is better then not fucking me at all, right?

Mad Hatter, with your coats and vests and Tripper Logic insanity, dining over tea and experimenting in the arts of cooking, bow, and be polite, but NEVER conform. Integrity, people! Those eyes, half there, half in me, the art of communication is not lost with you, and you see I can hold a conversation, that's why you like me, Mad Hatter. You respect me as equal, but you can't resist a mindfuck.

White Rabbit, pedantic and vain, but not shallow. With your symbology and air of good luck even whilst tragedy bites at your heels. A very important date indeed, 21122012 marks the calender of those eyes. Those eyes, analysing me with curiosity and passion, not a word of yours is wasted for the sake of being heard, you live in the now, make the most of each moment, each fleeting emotion. But you can't resist a mindfuck, that's why you like me, White Rabbit.

My, my. Take me to Wonderland, would you?

Trapped.

2010-03-02T16:57:00.000+08:00

Trapped.
No where to go.

In danger.
Can't stay here.

Nostalgic.
Want to go back.

Trapped.
no way to go back.

In danger.
Can't stay here any longer.

And let the butterflies be lions.

Soundwave 2010 (Because '10' or oh 10, just sounds dumb)

2010-03-02T01:02:00.003+08:00

We spend lengthy time looking for Stage 5. The map is misleading and errored, and as consequence, we miss out on Shinedown, and spend the time waiting for Alexisonfire, kissing beneath the showers.

As consequence... We soak all our cigarettes and spend time drying them in the sun, asking for Rollie papers. My fists were clenched at the lack of '44 Caliber love letter' as was everyone Else's around Alexisonfire.

I have seen Elora Danan a total of 5 times in my short life, every fucking time hoping they'd play 'Who are you!? Stop writing in my diary!!". They only had a few fucking songs, and they NEVER played it. This lack of song by Alexisonfire pissed me off equally.

We bounced around the area, running from the sound of Paramore. "You're not punk!", I scream. "Get of the stage!". If there's one thing I can't stand, it's stupid fucking pop-emo bands claiming to be punk because they dye their hair.

The most epic thing of the entire day was the guy dressed as Jesus with 'What wouldn't I do?' written on his back. I lol'd so hard. Also, the amount of wonderful hair surrounding me... Long metal hair, liberty spikes and hawks, dreads and emo hair. I was in hair heaven!

Finally, Placebo. I dragged my girl as close to the front of the stage as possible, and adrenalin was pumping. I felt like I was on fucking acid, I was that happy! Oh, and I nearly melted as I hear the line 'Sucker love is heaven-sent'. And then, to make things even better, I heard the line 'I was alone, falling free, trying my best not to forget'.

So, as I'd said earlier, I didn't care what songs Placebo played, since I love ALL the music, but it just happened to be my favorites. Just as I was on the verge of lyrical climax... 'You are one of God's mistakes, you crying, tragic waste of skin'. That sent me over the edge. And MY, did the crowd go WILD for Placebo! Was incredible!

Unfortunately, we had to leave a few minutes before hand so we could see Meshuggah, so I didn't see them finish. Why, oh WHY did the two bands I was most looking forward to have to be overlapping!? Meshuggah are dumb, though. They wasted 25 minutes warming up!

Was still FUCKING AWESOME seeing them. I discovered lengths in my hair I didn't know existed! Oh, and the smartass vocalist thinks he'll show his love for Australia by wearing a fucking corkhat. Was pretty hilarious, though.

We mission over towards the main stage and chill on the grass, and I after a while, I realise the music I'm hearing is familiar. I stand up and see Davey Havok, my pre-teen celebrity crush. I lol. SIX years ago, had I been there, I would have gone insane. Now, I was like 'Meh'.

The entire time, I was wondering how a punk as fuck band suddenly became emo as fuck. Davey is a pretty cool guy though. I was listening to him talking, and I must say, AFI do a pretty good performance. And how did I KNOW they'd finish the fucking thing with 'Miss Murder'!?

We went for a cigarette hunt, and encountered this guy who wanted livestock, cattle or sheep, he suggested in trade for a rollie paper. In the end, he agreed to my girlfriend's deal of three kids from me. I was like 'WUT!?'.

He was wicked as, had really faintly colored clock-hands on his arm, and I melt at anything to do with Time. Then he asked us to write on him before he ran away, and Krys wrote 'I dub thee sir douche', and I wrote 'You need acid', to which he agreed. Said reality was too boring and he wanted to go to the 'psychotropic' universe.

We waited over 9000 centuries for Trivium to fucking start playing, because we were going to watch half of them, then half Gallows. But they decided to copy Meshuggah and delay us all, so we only heard two songs before me had to bolt.

Disappointing, because I just KNOW it would have been mad. I swear, Trivium are the most popular band int he world. About 40 percent of soundwave population had Trivium shirts on, followed NOT closely at all by Alexisonfire, and then by Tool, strangely enough. I was like "Tool aren't fucking here... which makes me sadface". Maynard's voice = instant orgasm.

Gallows owed the night by FAR. And here I was thinking punk was dead. I'd never actually listened to them before the night before, and on hearing the couple of songs I heard, I was like "Yeah, might as well check 'em out at Soundwave". So fucking glad I did!

"Some pretty great bands here, and some pretty shit ones. I want you all to go watch Escape the Fate play, and just stand there and boo". He got us to practise. "We pretty much crush all other performances of the night. This next song is one by Black Flag, and if you don't know who Black Flag is, you probably shouldn't be at this festival".

I'd had the urge to release my inner 'Fuck yeah!' all day and all night, but nothing had yet been quite worthy as that last sentence. Fist straight in the air, before I could even think, "Fuck yeah!". I love when I satisfy urges!

I'm going off like crazy, and they're jumping around on stage, and the crowd is like -moshmoshheadbangmosh2stepmoshscream-, and they get a fucking human pyramid going and I am SO FUCKING SATISFIED. I have never, ever seen a performance like that!

Me and Krys have a lovely cuddle on the grass as we listen to Jimmy Eat World, and I glare at some cunt as he tells 'em to get off the stage, because it's very mean to say that. But then I think, well, maybe a few people thought that when I said it to Paramore. Sadface.

I've been waiting to hear them play my song, and just as they're about to leave stage... The Middle comes on and I have to kick my girlfriend off my lap so I can get up and dance and sing like never before. This song saved my fucking life!

Now, what the crowd has been waiting for, please enter Mike Patton and Faith No More! -Crowd goes wild, and crowd is entirety of Soundwave-. By this time, me and Krys are exhausted and our stupidly heeled feet hurt like cunts, so we sit down and just listen.

Pretty shit, because I just know Mike Patton's stage performance would have been epic as all shit. I just yell "Thank you for influencing Todd Smith and thus giving birth to the ideas that spawned Dog Fashion Disco!", to Mike Patton.

We play with glowies and cigarettes in the grass while we baby-sit some pillhead guy and watch all the pretty girls and boys walking past. I kept falling in love with people. They had cool green mohawks and electric blue liberty spikes and long, silky black hair, and cool tattoos, and they had shirts of Tool, and The Doors, and Nirvana, and The Cure, and The Ramones! -Melts-. What was I supposed to do?

Fucking epic. So satisfied with that. Hee.

I think... Too much?

2010-02-26T01:46:00.002+08:00

I think... Maybe I've eaten too much acid.
My fantasy is all reality, and reality went down the rabbit hole and came back fantasy because I wanted to make it a little more intense and eccentric. And then the stars were triangles, I'm pretty sure they were telling me I was insane, but I couldn't believe them because some guy I was chillin' bawlz with told me you can never take too much acid...
I told him this was lies and slander, but then my girlfriend agreed, and suddenly I was at the mad hatters tea party, and the tea was made of datura, and I thought 'This is cool', but then I inhaled too much shisha and I think I passed out, twice, because suddenly it was 8:30pm and someone was handing me sickly sweet alcohol....
And all my friends were with me in the hair.
I couldn't believe in the train tracks anymore... And no one EVER told me I could get addicted to 'what the fuck'. Somehow, the fractals were alive inside of eachother and all I could do was smile and express my love for everything.
Tell me if I'm wrong, but isn't this exactly what the Cheshire cat was talking about?
It reminded me all too much of every waking moment of my life, and I can't remember ONCE having an intelligent conversation with someone. I feel heavily sleep deprived, which is surprising because I wasted my whole Australia celebration running from aboriginals and passing out all over the place.
I remember threatening the water, because it was cold and oddly colored.
I don't know if I ever told you everything comes at a price. Two points or a headjob.
But then, there we were, cigarettes in hand, and the smoke was telling me I was beautiful and I was telling someone they had beautiful colors, while someone was telling me I did not have an aura at all.
Everything is madness, now, peaking to the point of no return.

He says he's not asleep. He says nothing more. I try and comprehend the idea that possibly I am not dreaming... And then she says she wants acid, and I have to remind her we are currently hallucinating aliens.

But anyways, enough about whatever it's all about, more about the nothing that is inevitable.

Oh, and, I'm sorry. So sorry for letting you all down. I kind of suck an astronomical sized universal cock at the moment, because my brain is damaged, and there's nothing wrong with that. I love acid.

I don't think I'm ever coming down, just so you all know. I'm never going to pull my head in, my head is somewhere deep in the multi-colored space/time continuum and I'm freaking out, man. I'd ask you to come and find me, but I've found way too much already. I can feel my mind compacting and expanding and I can't learn to dope.

I think I've eaten too much acid. Just so you know.

My impression of Krys's battle with her mum. ^^

2010-02-25T23:58:00.000+08:00

It was at this point in time when my mother rudely yanked me from the computer seat by my hair. I screamed and attempted to hadouken her, but because I am made of fail and aids, it turned into a Hadoucan't! I cried in embarassment. She told me all I ever did was sit on the computer, and I corrected her, telling her that I was actually sitting on the chair. She lol'd at me and falcon punched me, so I tried to do one back but it turned into a Falcon OSHI! I was just not winning here! I told her to stop interfering with my life, and she said "What life, you fat geek!". So, I smashed her, and ended it smoothly with a... OH NO BRO... A curb fail! She stood up and glared at me and turned into the incredible hulk, all green and shit, and was like "You don't wanna see me when I'm angry!". I threw my iPod at her, and it hit her in the cunt and she was like "AWSHIT, MY BAWLZ!". At which point, I attempted a corkscrew kick but I pressed all the wrong buttons and it turned into YOUGOTAIDS! I was so devastated now, so I pulled a face like this D: and shouted 'sadface' at her! "I just want to get back on Myspace and see if anyone commented on my tuff photos!". She called me a scene kid and was like "Lolfailfgt". I was heavily insulted at this point. She smashed me a few times before leaving. I screamed "Pikaaaachhhhhhuuuuu!" after her, and then I sent out Magikarp and he spashed her over 9000 times and IT DID NOTHING. It was then that I totally wished I had a safe bro... But all I had was condoms which people kept handing me because they thought I was a slut, so I attempted to suffocate her with one, calling her a dickhead the whole while. Finally, she was like "Peace, man. Smok'a of de earth. Ya man!". So I was like "Ya man" and gave her the peace sign. I quickly got back online, to check my Twitter and go back into that chatroom. Yeah dardz.

Love is this.

2010-02-22T01:28:00.002+08:00

You're gone for two hours, and I miss you like you've been gone two lifetimes. My mind reverts to you, and all plans of happiness and excitement will have to wait 'til you return to me. Even while you're gone from my sight, my thoughts and my heart keep track of you and I fantasize about that pure moment when we reunite.
Is this love?

If you were to say to me, that you needed me, at any time, for anything, anywhere, I'd be there, putting all else aside to make sure you were smiling again, because the most fullfilling moments of my life are seeing you smiling. If anyone or anything were ever to rob you of your perfect elf-girl smile, I would turn all my passion into rage.
Is this love?

Whenever I am down and out, lost and not found, on the very ehge of my mind and withdrawing from sanity, a simple whisper from you, or a gentle touch can ease all, and you always do it, always. Even when the world wants to kill me, and every friend I ever had is an enemy, your pretty face erases all negativity.
Is this love?

I want to be with you always and constantly, I would forfeit everything for just another moment with you, just another time to tell you I love you and to hear your cute little silly words escaping your pretty mouth, with that glint of an angel dancing in your eyes. Without you, I simply wait for you, never progressing, meerly dwelling on our memories.
Is this love?

I think of all the things that you could do, and I realise nothing could make me love you less. You are instantly forgiven for every mistake, every hurt, every flaw, like the stupid girlfriend I am, my heart playing tricks while my mind wanders. But never do you hurt me with intention, and never do you not apologise for making me feel any worse.
Is this love?

Your texts are refreshing and restoring, and I want to share them with everyone, because I'm so happy you're thinking of me, I'm so glad to know you're having fun, so proud that you are mine, my little elf-girl. But even then, it isn't your voice illuminating the darkness shrouding my soul, and even when you call, it isn't holding hands as we kiss.
Is this love?

Only word of seeing you can arise me from my perfect dreams, and sometimes, if I hear the day before, I'm too excited to sleep, I guess how kids do when waiting for Christmas morning. I'll drag myself to town 8 hours before we are to meet, and I'll sing of you to everyone I meet, and when you finally arrive, they point you out, and my face glows.
Is this love?

Without even realising I am doing it, I pull you away from people, because I'm selfish and want you for my own. You. Only you, with your elfen-face and your sparkling eyes. I can get jealous and hurt, when all your attention isn't on me, me, me. But I trust you'll always come back to me, because you're my everything.
This is love.

In answer to your question, Mr Logic, yes... Yes, I do. I love her more then I've ever loved anyone or anything, and I love often and deeply, but I would cast everything I'd ever loved aside for her.

I will make her happy.

"Highly evolved"

2010-02-19T15:46:00.002+08:00

Human beings are notably more complex then other lifeforms on this earth, but complex does not mean 'intelligent' (a common mistake) and it does not mean 'highly evolved' (another common mistake).

Take an elephant. Elephants feel remorse, they grieve for their dead, they get revenge, they shed tears amongst many other human emotions and personality traits. The only things really seperating the two, other than physical structure of course, is that humans do not have any natural defence mechanisms, elephants skin is tough and protective, and elephants are not wiping off every species upon the earth, probably because elephants, though they feel wrath, pride, remorse and many other emotions, do not feel 'greed' which is a completely human emotions and is responsible for destroying our own earth.

It takes a 'complex' mind to create the various amonuts of technology humans have produced over the centuries. What has our so-called intelligence done? Destroyed the waters, skies, forests and life of our own Mother. Is that an intelligent thing to do? On top of that, many humans are ignorant to the fact we are almost COMPLETELY responsible for the tragedies that occur. So, who really chose to link up complex with intelligent?

An elephant doesn't know the alphabet, and it doesn't make radiation filled phone calls to the elephants in Asia, and it doesn't microwave it's food, letting out yet more radiation. With a brain that size, and it's memory almost equal to that of a human beings, I'm sure if an elephant really saw a decent POINT in learning and using these things, he probably could learn. They've taught elephants to do all sorts of things in their cruel 'I own everything ont his planet' act. But I think the elephnat knows that is kind of pathetic to have all these 'convenient' eart destroying products, when he could just as easily continue doing things as he's always done. Elephants haven't changed much since their first step on earth. Why not? Is it because their not intelligent and greedy enough to destroy their home? Is it because they're humle enough to find comfort and happiness in NOT ruling the world? Or is it truely because they're stupid?

Cockroaches are immune to most chemicals and natural diseases on this plantet, fleas can live on object surfaces for months without starving to death, most insects can freeze themselves and be unfrozen years later, still perfectly cabale of life, and most mammals can go into a hibernation period, meerly living off their body fat for months. Humans are vunerable to nearly everything on the planet, can't go for more than a week tops without food, but most can't even go without three lare meals a day, would die of hypothermia if their bodies came in contact with freezing temperatures, and couldn't ever go to sleep for more than a couple of days after a drug binge.

Drop a human anywhere in the world, naked, as he is naturally, and without his guns and his knives, as he is naturally, and anything would kill him. He wouldn't last one minute, being a weak, naked ape with nothing to defend himself with besides his brain. He is so weak, that he must rely in technology to save his pathetic skin, and in consequence of this, kill not only all of the flora anf fauna across the ENTIRE world (Because unlike other creatures, they can't be happy having just one habitat), but also their own species.

If "complex" comes with a consequence of destroying the place that we live in, the plants and animals we eat, and the water we drink, we'd be a lot better of being 'simple-minded', just as we believe every other living thing to be, and allow nature to quickly kill us off.

We are not themost "highly evolved" creature on this planet. And if that stupid, incorrect term MUST be used at all, I'd say we were the least evolved creature on this planet. Our technology is evolved, but we are not, whatsoever.

Two faces.

2010-02-19T02:42:00.002+08:00

Two-faced and without trust.
Rather hear it from someone else, then from the horses mouth.
I've dealt with stories a long time now, and I'mthe fucking author here!

I will rewrite the wrong.

Because I like wordplay.

I like when things make sense in a tripper logic way...

Memories... And you.

2010-02-18T18:21:00.002+08:00

My girl, my angel, my darling, my sweet.
With only your memories to last me a week.
My hold, my love, my dear, my rock.
Sometimes in life, you are all that I've got.
My baby, my lover, my partner, my friend.
My love is with you, right 'til the end.
My student, my assurance, my beloved, my keep.
With only your memories to last me a week.

I love you.

xx

I fail at chemistry. Sadface.

2010-02-18T00:59:00.002+08:00

Goddamn it, I can not understand any of this whatsoever.
It would help if I understood ANYTHING about chemistry, even just memorizing that periodic element table would help a whole lot in this case.
I'm sure if I attempt anything vaguely clever, I'll blow my face of or something, but I like the look of me in cool goggles bending over some beaker with smoke rising up in my face. ^^ Kind of... Mystical.

Man, this shit makes me feel entirely stupid.

Besides all that, I don't even know where the fuck to find any rye.

Mescaline is so much easier. >.<

But I don't want cactus spikes everywhere, had quite enough of that at Charles Street!

Grrr. I just wish I could figure out how to do ONE thing in my pathetic little life. Would make me feel so clever and proud.

I have an entire week to go without my beloved girlfriend. I want to do something useful with this time of missing her... Learn some epic life skill, make some cash, so when she gets back I can take her to a fancy restaraunt, like she deserves.

Something nice...

I am so hopeless.

Krys, I love you a whole lot and I miss you already. Take care. I will try not to fail, and do something totally epic for you when you return.

Concentration.

2010-02-15T04:45:00.002+08:00

The cigarettes aren't comforting anymore.
They tell me I'm a bad influence.
They tell me if I take her away, they'll hate me forever.
They tell me if I leave her behind, I'll hurt her more than anything.
The cigarettes are burning, and the most comforting thing now is that ringing sound in my snapping mind.
I'm growing up, but I don't want to just yet, they're pushing me, they want me to bend for them, do backflips and headstands in the decaying candlelight.
I miss when not everything had a consequence,
When the hardest decision I had to make was what I wanted to eat for breakfast.
When the most pain I ever felt was the slander of school kids.
When I was so small and everyone made decisions for me.
I don't want to hurt her...
I want her with me, forever and always, but I can't take her away.
She has so many ties...
She has people to make proud.
She has a future to look forward to.
The bravest girl I ever met, with the heart of a lioness and the voice of an angel.
God, I adore you.
The cigarettes are having really bad effects on my body.
I'm not even enjoying them anymore.
Are these signs I should give up?
But I'm proud! But I'm neurotic! But I'm obsessive compulsive!
The storylines are weaving all around me, relationships grow and change and fade away.
Happiness comes in a little piece of cardboard that goes on your tongue...
Insanity comes in the same package.
Gah, I can't concentrate...

You're not a hippie!

2010-02-15T03:53:00.003+08:00

Dear Mr. Fire Demon,

I'd say this all to you, but you're not the listening type, so I'm just going to vent here instead of into your smug little face.
You sir, are not a hippie. I wish you and all those others would learn that just because you wear rags and eat a lot of psychedelic drugs, does not mean you are a hippie! If you were, you would not have given a fuck where I had sex, even if it had been right in front of you. You would not have made that stupid comment about 'not wanting to step in peoples jizz', because you wouldn't be disgusted by the fact of mating at all. What is disgusting is that you claim to be a hippie and yet you SLAUGHTER trees to get your drugs, such as DMT which I find revolting considering what DMT is and what it is about.
You continue to say things such as 'hippies don't wear makeup', which is ridiculous because I never said I was a hippie, and it isn't a fucking fashion statement anyway. Yes, I wear makeup, and yes, I brush my hair, but I do NOT murder trees, I do NOT support the meat industry and I do NOT hate more than I love.
Now, if you could focus less on hating me, your friend, and focus your dislike and anger upon the masses instead, perhaps with those brilliant songs of yours (yes, I have read them), you'd probably get a lot more done!
Even though I dislike you quite constantly, and do not want to be in your company at all, I still love you and I still support you. Why? Because we're fighting the same battle, ya dick!
It is people like you that are destroying the doof scene, running about in your rags, totally concentrated on drugs and nothing more.
Why do I dress the way I do? Because I like to, I feel it accentuates my character. I brush my hair because I like it that way, I paint my face because I'm an artist and everything I do is art to me and I bend between all your little scenes because I'm simply wonderful. ^^
Honestly, if you ever claim to be a hippie before me again, I will smack you, and I can do that because I never said I was a hippie. Oh yeah, and real hippies don't smoke crack, just so you are aware, and they give out their love constantly, instead of constant criticism.
And you keep on making comments about the way people smell. Generally, hippies do smell pretty bad. I'm guessing it has something to do with water wastage and the fact that deodorant is a poison to the environment. But you should know this, and accept this, considering you're a hippie.
Oh, and you make all these rude comments about Charles street. Now, I can understand how a lot of people wouldn't want to be there, but you WERE there, and you're a hippie, and you shouldn't care that it was so dirty. Before all the crackheads moved in, that place was a hippie fortress, actually, a place for artists and activists to brainstorm. Hippies don't care about material bullshit, and the rest of us were quite okay with the majority of the place (excluding the kitchen because it's kind of nice when you can have a clean bench to cook on without rotting food in the corner).
And you don't need to remind me of my flaws every time we have a conversation. I'm well aware of them, but I also know my qualities. It was very low of you to turn a discussion about perception of reality into a personal stab, simply because you disagreed with one of my theories. And still, calling me a fool every sentence doesn't prove you right at all. There's no need for that. I'm not a fool. The thing about philosophy is there are SO MANY DIFFERENT THEORIES and if we're sharing ideas and we disagree, it does not mean I am ignorant, it simply means I have a different view on things.

It disgusts me to hear you say you're a hippie, when you stand for everything they are against, and not for the peace, love OR anarchy in which they do stand for. It is not a fucking fashion statement. That's like someone claiming to be punk because they wear chains and have a multi-colored Mohawk (like those idiot pop bands on the radio that get labelled 'punk').

I know it is the in thing to do to label yourself, but when you do it, at least have an understanding of exactly what you are claiming to be. When you say you are a hippie, hate constantly and participate in the destruction of your earth, it brings up this untamable rage in me.

But anyways, thank you for not initiating conversation with me last time I saw you, it was well appreciated. Perhaps one day you'll get over yourself and we'll be all cool again.

I love you, friend, but I dislike you a lot at the moment, and I have given you no reason to 'hate' me. You still have a lot of growing up to do, 16 is not the height of experience, Fire Demon, and just as you so easily accuse me of all these various flaws, you also are not perfect.

End rant.

All us broken hearts.

2010-02-14T23:58:00.002+08:00

I guess what I'm trying to say is, you're my sunshine Ferret.
Romantic, gentle, enfolded in water. Stars shine brightly above, our clothes are lost and we hold each other, a devious look in his eyes and I know what we're about to do. It's calming, amongst the water and under our gods, gentle splashing lapping against my naked skin.
His lips encase mine, and their is some sort of dance evolving between our tongues, as I drag my nails down the soft flesh of his back, and he fights for entrance between my thighs.
It's so very magical. Have you ever made love under water?
He says to me, between pleasured audio, "This is one of the most romantic times I have ever made love".
I sort of melt with the water that surrounds me, taking in every part of him for just this one magical moment...

We're alone again, his hands caress my back, deep massage with silken oils, the pretty music in love with my eardrums. The lighting is perfect, and I know I have never been this relaxed.
You're a goddess of sensitivity and enlightenment, and I've been waiting for thousands of centuries.
It isn't too long until we are at it again, he shows no mercy, penetrating me like it's my birthday. Intrusion comes midway through, in the form of my beloved girlfriend, who apologises and makes a few comments.
"Yes, I just walked in on a view of ---'s ass fucking Ferret", she says into the phone.
"The term is making love, Krys", he calmly corrects her.
"Oh, I mean, I just walked in on --- making love to Ferret's cunt".

I don't believe I've ever slept so well, I could've never moved again, content and warm and with beautiful love from either side, snuggled between my beautiful girl and him, their arms all around me... It was like paradise, I will never forget exactly how it felt, but I will dream of that rest for eternity. Their gentle breathing and my own aligned perfectly, ah, those eve's when I would sleep with a smile tattooed on to my face.

Daylight broke, and we kissed each other a happy Valentines, and missioned our stunning selves to the blinking, hazy city.
Mine and his hands were entwined, beats flowing from an earpiece, handing out our happiness and love to each soul we encountered in the morning. I found my place in the cosy lap of Pet, and told him tales of the eve before and my desire to take my pretty girlfriend on a date.
There were gasps and pointed fingers as the girl I spoke so fondly of appeared.
"Pet, may we have a Valentine's day kiss?"
Sealed, our lips were by the pretty face of our adorable little Pet.
"That makes three, the magic number".

Mine and my dearly beloveds date did in fact actuate, even if it were a mere held-hands smile to Hungry Jack's. It was still as special as any fancy restaurant, because she was with me, as was every part of my bleeding heart with her.

A party, were our presences requested, and ever so excited we were to begin with, but noticing the dull moods of our fellow partiers, I took my leave, having had the perfect day and not wishing to infect it with the energy drain of negativity.

I do not think I have ever felt so showered in love before this day, and it may in fact be just another silly day in another pointless year, but giving human beings any excuse to Love is just magical.

I love you all, with every part of me.

xx

Welcome to the downfall.

2010-02-09T01:12:00.002+08:00

I myself am withering.
I knew it would happen, and I will try to put it off as long as possible so I can set you all on the right track.

UNITE.
You artists, and scientists, and leaders, and intellectuals, and anarchists, and hippies.
You philosophers, and punks, and enlightened, and passionate, and understanding, and observant.
You connected, and willing, and ready, and strong, and determined and elite.

I have the art of knowing exactly what must be done, but not a clue of how to do it.

I will entrust you all to your new leader.

If you are reading this, you know I am talking to you.
Oh, and congratulations. I wish you both the best.

I leave the fate of our world in your hands, good sir.

As one, we are the hopeless and confused, the angry and lost.

Together, we are the revolution.

Oh, to be like the masses, but be like the few!

Good luck, brave world.

I love you.

The ocelot and the serpent.

2010-02-04T03:51:00.003+08:00

The sweetest thing, she sways, the moon changes her mood.
She's so cofused, always so tired, dressed in mismatched attire, like something out of a fairytale, like the fairy outcast who dared to be different.
Her eyes are coated in coal, burried behind so many thoughts and miscalculations. Hurting.
Words circle, and she smiles like she doesn't give a fuck, and sometimes she doesn't because she can't.
Her world peaks to the point of perfection, and crashes to its end, and she just keeps on grinning like this is all an illusion...
She's an artist of sorts,not one of multi-colored paint brushes and bold canvases dappled in inks and smudges, she creates entire realities and adds to minds. She controls everything in her path, and prays for tragedy.
She walks with confidence, arms swaying and dancing to some imaginary trance, her voice is strange and accented, like fancy e's and a's found in French words gone English.
She burries her face in auburn hair and cigarettes, hides from the blazing heat and sleeps the day away.
Her love is unconditional, but her hatred for her own humanity rages deep within the burning furnace of desire for a better world, a better selection.
She's constantly in a daze, her fists are clenched but she carries the white flag. Doves flutter by, but she holds the heart of the fox, sly and devious, with the curious mind of a cat, and the eternal howling of the wolf, the observant eye of the eagle, and the loyalty of the dog.
She is proud and her willpower is strong, she has potential, and she fears Time.
She picks flowers and places them amongst soft hair, she loves warm hugs and headgames and simply hates ignorance of any sort. Her voices raises in passion, and she is passionate about everything.
Her mind wanders to the furthest point of the universe and never comes back to earth. Her heart accepts all who are able to love. She sings of love and heartache and nostalgia and fancy trips, and she writes of experience and terror and sex and beauty.
She aches and waits for herself to wake up and realize who she is underneath all the pretty character.

The ugliest thing, he wilts, the sun burns his skin.
He's so angry, always so selfish, dressed in filthy attire, like something off the streets of London, like the junkie who lost his way.
His eyes are coated in suspicion, burried behind so many lies and underestimations. Hurting.
Words circle, and he laughs like he's the only one, and sometimes he is ecause no one else can understand.
His world peaks to the point of illusion, then crashes down to the end, and he keeps on taking like the world is his for the taking.
He's an artist of sorts, not one of pretty pictures and well-structured portraits, he creates entire realities and adds to minds. He controls nothing in his path, and prays for it to all spin right back into fractal place.
He walks with apathy, arms flailing and marching to some imaginary command, his voice is loud and repeated, like trolls and goblins fighting over the dragons treaure.
He burries his face in matted dreads and bongs, hides from the blazing heat and sleeps the day away.
His love is faked and elusive, but his hatred is vast and wicked, burning deep within the furnace of desire for a better world, a better selection.
He's constantly in a daze, his arms are open but he carries the black flag. Vultures circle overhead, ut he hold sthe heart of the serpent, cold and reptile, with the arrogant mind of the cat, the eternal howling of the wolf, the pride of the lion and the erection of the dog.
He is proud and his willpower is gone, he has potential, and he fears love.
He picks flowers and throws them to the trashcan, he loves warm coffee and headgames and simply hates critisism of any sort. His voice raises in confidence, and he is confident about everything.
His mind wanders the the furthest point of the universe and never returns to earth. His heart rejects all those who are able to love. He sings of hate and violence and blood and fancy trips, and he writes of experience and codes and sex and religion.
He aches and waits for himself to wake up and realise who he is underneath all the feigned character.

Under the moon which changes her moon, and the sun which burns his skin, they found comfort in eachothers embrace, for just one moment, but that moment would last 'til the end.

Under the moon which changes her moon, and the sun which burns his skin, she finally let go of him, bidding hima final goodbye, knowing they'd lost everything they'd ever shared.

Under the moon which changes her moon, and the sun which burns his skin, he finally understood exactly what he'd lost, and at last he felt regret and shame as she walked away forever.

The serpent and the ocelot lived happily ever after, but never again would they touch.

Tyme-Orpheus

2010-02-04T01:58:00.004+08:00

"I think this is yours".
I am handed a small, grey bundle of fluff, with eyes of golden time.

Those eyes, every simple pleasure, radiating acidy goodness and drawing me into their luminous and vast intelligence. Those eyes, golden spheres specked with dark matter, observant and calculated and undoubtably wise, arrogant even, but playful and curious and an infinite everything. Those eyes, those eyes of light and time, holding the universe with precise vision and estimated certainty. Those eyes...

I named him Tyme-Orpheus days before I set my own sickly, hollow and desolate eyes upon his. I held him, and he looked at me, and I knew our fates were intertwined.

I saved his life, and he was destined to save my spiritual self, because a dream told me so, dictated by the doctor.

The very first eve of our meeting, I took the favored chemical of psychedelic measures, known to us as LSD. I took it within, and I gave him a part of my mind, bonding with him immediately, holding him to me as protection and comfort and every speck of limited hope left to me in this cold, cruel world.

Around his neck, he wore a purple collar with a bell. His paws were soft and his movements were agile, a fluffball of vicious love. Soft, cushiony grey fur covered his little, stumbling body. Pink tongue protruded as he let out his little meows of protest at too much cuddling, and purrs of morning face-nuzzles.

I would sleep with my arm around him, as his purrs and my vibrations aligned. He would trot through every house I visited, through every park I ventured to, through the arms of every being I had ever acquainted myself with. What was mine, was his.

He would curl himself upon my lap for hours as I chattered about the universe in all it's infinite possibility over tabs and joints and glasses. And once upon a time, the ganja was blown in his little face and he closed his eyes and smiled like Buddha, devouring the entirety of his food supply, storing it somewhere in his little belly.

I sort of resented this. I wanted his first time high to be special, with me, and naturally, when he was older than a little lion.

He would boldly slash at the big dogs and the tom cats, pouncing upon them with glee. No fear was in his heart, aside from the dreaded bath time. Whenever a male would venture too close to me and I gave the slightest notion of protest, he would pounce, claws out, teeth bared. A little lion, bold and loving.

He would clamber up stairs and hid behind couches in foreign homes, and we would search for him for hours, and out he would come, tail high in the air, quite well proud of himself in fact.

He was quite the little heart-breaker, gathering little girl kitties to his side, and I did so promise him he would not die a virgin. No cat of mine would be fixed. He would rape all the bitches and get 'em pregnant and make me kittens, if only when he were a little older!

One day, in the light of the morning, a wicked witch of the west took out her dislike of me upon my kitten, and out went Phi, never to be seen again.

Where are you, my pet, my friend, my companion? My young man with eyes of time and fur like silk... Do you roam the streets of Kelmscott, tail held high? Are you safe and warm in the arms of someone who would love you as I did? Or did a worse fate befall you?

I miss you painfully, my little lion. I search for you, and worry for you, and cry for you as the days go by, hoping you will return to me. I pray for the universe to guide you back, and if not that, to keep you safe and happy.

My little one, I love you. It took me a long time to say it to you, but do you remember when I did? I love you so very, very much. I wish for your safety, and I long for you to be back in my arms, soft and warm.

Wherever you are, I hope your curious mind is content, my little prince. Please be safe.

Love from,
Your dearest companion,
Ferret.

Too much drunk.

2010-01-18T00:15:00.002+08:00

I remember thinking, "Everyone is so fucked up". Blank. I'm on the bed, and I'm thinking "I'm so fucked up".

Now I'm thinking, if I remembered everything I ever thought, I'd have no time to think.

There's something wrong, he can tell, because he's poking me and I'm not even slashing his arm off. I've just drained myself of all my energy, because dear Dakota's life is in danger. I have no energy for smiles.

I'm thinking about all the times we discussed whether or not we'd fuck Dakota, I'm thinking about his adorable face bringing Krys half my bra as she thought about a lack of my presence, I'm thinking about wrestling with him on the loungeroom floor.

It's all drunk now, half-way there, on the way to the bottle'o to stock up on rescources, Aaron's drunk driving hilarious. Come back, everyone is fucked, I've got some catching up to do. Dylan's jug of every possible alcohol? Perfect.

Drink bitch, drink, me thinks. And I start thinking about how totalled Dylan will be once he's finished with that jug. I start thinking I'm catching up pretty fast, here.

"You should gemme some coke 'n' bourbon". "Why?". "Be a gentleman". "I am a gentleman, to my lady". "Well I'm your lady's lady, doesn't that count for anything?". I'm far gone by now, strolling through the door, Jarheads bourbon in coke down the ol' throat hole. He's far too impressed to be pissed off that I drank so much of it.

I'm thinking, Lane's music collection is missing just Dog Fashion Disco, one step away from perfection. I remember my legs shaking, in absolute euphoria as Maynard James Keenan's voice erupts from the speakers.

This is where is gets a bit hazy. I'm i the side-room, chatting to Dylan and Sir Droopy, skulling back beers with Jack. Surely I've learned I can't keep up with Jack? Blank.

I'm thinking, I'm so fucked, as I shove my hands down my throat out front. Excess alcohol. I'm thinkig, oh, here's the green-shirted faggot I was making fun of earlier, thank you kind sir for escorting me to the bathroom and feeding me water from your hands. I'm thinking, I'm going to die, I'm not going to wake up.

Five or six odd guys are holding back my hair. "You're okay, we'll look after you. Water? Bucket? Toilet paper? OSHI-, hold her hair!! Hold her hair!!". Last words I'm hearing are "I don't know why you wear a corset, you're skinny as fuck!", from somebody's mouth as he removes my corset.

...

Goodmorning world, I feel like shit. I only ever get hangovers from beer... I don't remember drinking beer. Hell, I don't remember a whole lot.
"I was so fucked last night", I say to the fellow beside me.
"Don't worry, everyone did. You missed so much, Aaron and Lane got into a fight".
Morning kisses, morning yack, morning water later...

"All right, who powerchucked over my linen closet?"
Thankfully, I managed to get all my excess alcohol in a bucket, outside, or in the toilet. I am innocent of this crime.
"Hey Aaron, last night when you were totalled, you said "Dylan, I have one thing to say to you... I love lamp".
All-mighty grin in place. "Oh my God. I said that!? I... am... epic!".

I'm on the phone to Krys. "Dude, I got so wasted last night. Haha, I can get drunk again!"
"Did you cry over -database error- again?"
"No, I didn't, actually! I just yacked everywhere instead!"
"Ferret didn't cry over -database error-? That's a first."

I'm in town, Jack's flesh is in my mouth, his arm threatens to crush my throat. "Do you really want to do that?", he asks. I shake my head, not intending to get bit back, releasing, 'forgive me', dashing to the otherside of the park.
Multiple tickle-rapes later, I decide to be clever and make a ninja roll onto the otherside of Dylan to escape his hold, CRACK, knee splits on concrete.
Everyone stops, "Are you okay?".
I mutter 'ow' between hysteric laughter.

And then heart-wrenching boy decided to rock up. I haven't seen this cunt in a while. He makes his entrance, I am ignored. He makes his departure, I am ignored. After all this time, he can't even acknowledge my presence. I can't help but feel slightly hurt.

It gets morbid from here, deaths happened, buildings exploded, fires started, someone an hero'd because of a lack of coke, shit went down... That, or I cbf writing anymore because to tell the truth, I felt like shit the rest of the night and slept the majority of the following day.

Lesson 1. Don't drink with Jack.
Lesson 2. Don't ever think somebody might actually care for you when you are truley of no importance.
Lesson 3. TOO MUCH DRUNK. ("You mean, you drank too much last night").

/Rant

2010-01-17T21:32:00.002+08:00

I was going to write a blog all about my weekend with my friends, cool cunts they are, totally enjoy chillin' and drinkin' and wrestlin' with them. Aw yeah.

However. I kind of just realised the only reason we're friends is because one of them thinks I'm attractive and wants me in the pants.

So me and my dearly beloved best female friend are invited to chill with some guys who are wicked shit, bro...

Turns out the only reason why is so the two single guys of the group will have something to fuck.

We're both in tricky situations, here. It is our belief that if she and her current man break up for whatever reason, she'll become one of the exes the group bitches about. If I do NOT hook up with this guy who wants me in the pants, I'm no use to them.

Let me see...

Oh, 'myyyy ferrrrri' decided to call me just to hear the sound of my voice. I haven't seen him for a entire week. KEEP YOUR DAMN PAWS OFF, or I aint gawna see you for a lot longer than that!

An old 'friend' of mine appears to have not even established friendship with me, because OLAWD, I saw him for the first time in a couple months, NOT A WORD TO ME HE SPOKE. Guy can't even acknowledge my presence... Hah, and then I get a text. 'Should have said hi, have a good night, ect...", which was slightly uplifting until I gathered the only reason he sent it was because a friend of mine heard how hurt I was by his act of ignoring and must have mentioned it to him.

Oh, and then there's the tool 'sir droopy' who I keep accidentally hooking up with when I'm drunk, because he's far more emotionally/mentally/physically drunk when I am. I wake up and have to slap myself a few times.

GAH.

There is one guy... :) But I aint getting my hopes up, those things always get crushed. But hey, he likes quantum physics, Anne Rice vampire movies, Waking Life and conspiracy theory. Which is cool. He's a little younger than I'd usually go, you see, but that's excusable. Plus, he makes me laugh like a motherfucker.

Anyways... the thought of him made me happy. So I can no longer rant. I might come back and talk about that awesome weekend I had.

xx

Fuck the Ferri.

2010-01-11T01:55:00.002+08:00

I don't even care.

Doof party in the bush, dammit.

All this talk of love and lust... I'm tired of filling my head with such bullshit.

"Could travel the world, fight a million battles and still never find the Ferri's secret places, untouchable". Yeah, buddy, and let us keep it that way.

Oh, and as for "If anyone were to so much as touch you, I would kill them, send armies after them, and blow up the whole town. No one goes near the Ferri". This is excessive.

For example, a certan male you threatened? There is NOTHING he could do to me I wouldn't forgive him for, and there is NOTHING you could do to make me forgive you if you ever fucking touched him, you God damn MACHO MAN.

"Oh, my Ferri, let me tell you some more lies". Every word you speak is such. Leave me alone. That night, while you were so happy HOLDING me to you and refusing to release, I could've been in HIS arms, where I wanted to be.

Him looking at me like he hasn't looked at me for so long... And you said "Too bad, next tme you should be quick, now I am spending time with the Ferri". I guess you made him aware I could be taken from him forevermore, but if so, it will not be you who does this.

Oh and, I'm glad my 'perfectly proportioned body' makes you happy, and you don't care what say because you just love the sound of my voice, and all you ever wanted is me on your lap.

I'm sorry that I make you ache, and that your love grows stronger each time we meet, but in this case, I'll just have to stop being molested by you, since hanging out with you causes yo so much pain and you can't keep your damn hands off.

And it's not just you, my ganja smoking friend, I'm simply SICK of being the center of attention. There is nothing about me worth everyones fucking attention, I can't have a casual nights fuck without hurting half the guys I know.

I don't want your love, nobody's.

Fuck love. I'm sick of hurting people I never wanted to have feelings for me anyway.

Sorry for disappointing you all.

Dreams of Truth.

2010-01-11T01:47:00.002+08:00

Once again, and the medicine man is hovering about my dreams.
He once told me in my sleep-state, I needed to be of having one of those four-legged grey furballs, else my spirituality would be corrupt. This is indeed how I fell across my dearest kitty-purr, Phi.

Now, he says to me 'Ferret, this will blow your mind'.
Alas, the universe fnally beleves I am ready indeed for the dearest dimiti.
Or wrong, I'm so excited, and the medicine man seems to forget all about it...

Too bad.

I can't even inhale the sweet angel breath in a dream.

'Oh, but Ferret, you always knew it would be ME who gave you your first experience, and you've been ready for a long while, I've just been being mean', says the devil incarnated.

Cheers, brother.

Happy fucking New Year.

2010-01-11T01:03:00.002+08:00

-Ringtone obliterates silence-
Shut up.

I'm over your calls, Happy Fucking New Year, leave me in peace so I can discuss Waking Life over straight Beam a little, and no, there is no way in hell I am coming to that damn party, I don't care how drunk you are, or how drunk I could get, I'm here, and I'm here to stay.

You want me so bad, come and get me.
-Mobil3 phone switches off-

I treasure that you love me so dearly as to wish me a good follow-up of the 09, after such harsh words were shared ust days before, and I'm glad you, good sir, thought of me yet again. What is this picture missing? Ah, tears, of course. Well let us duck outside for a quickie, while everyone fights over the tastiest of alcohol, no one will notice I'm gone, crying over your stupid face, YET AGAIN!

Why does this continue to happen? Hmm. Maybe I've been drinking.
-Lights cigarette-.

And what pleasures and pains shall this year bring? What more could this ol' corpse o' mine possibly endure? I hear you all mutter-tutter about this and that, everyone reading out their written words to one another, as we discuss everything under the blazing sun that no longer exists at 30 past 1, and surely hasn't existed for a good few hours, and mayhaps shall not return by morn.

To us, to this moment, to change, to everything. Yeah, yeah, pour another drink.
-Chasing grey kittens through the house-.

And here I am, beside some yet-to-be-knighted, head buried in cushion, cat-scratched thighs. The sun chases my vision, our fellow blessed-be-the-living long-since retired to the sanctuary of hibernation. I can feel a sickness inside me, and my gut hurts from laughing. I'm snuggled up against flesh, ohai, how do you do on this fine morn?

I can remember thinking, your face is terribly close to mine.
-Shuffles under heated blankets-.

Oh there there, it's not so bad, think of all the good you can cause, think of the children! All those children of colour and crystal... Shit, I almost forgot to care for things such as these, I was far too busy day-dreaming about being asleep, and then I remembered I was asleep so I started to imagine what it would be like to be awake. So we're discussing Waking Life again, over the blankets, sunlight is blinding. Welcome to the new waste of time.

So I was thinking, and I thought, what the fuck am I thinking? Happy fucking New Year.
-Ends story-.

Underwater.

2009-12-28T23:33:00.002+08:00

I hope you can hold your breath.
Underwater. The scene fades away when the splash of your sinking body is all that can be heard. Fully submerged, clawing at his chest, back, arms, flailing. Gasp. Surface.
And before I can call him all kinds of bad things, I'm under again, and again, water seeping into my pores, gasping for air, slashing at him, slashing at anything. I emerge, finally, cling to him, recovering, and then attempt to push him under. Whoosh. Gone.
His figure disappears beneath the surface and reappears beside me, once more taking ahold of my resenting form and sending me below again, hearing his sadistic laughter between struggled breaths.
"All right, all right, I'm wet already, fuck you!".
I stand in the center of the water mass, dripping. My bra is tattered, and I clutch at my white Jim Morrison t-shirt in frustration, clambering out of the pool. He wraps his towl around me, rolls me a cigarette and pours me a drink of only the finest, warmest bourbon.
Not a sore loser, are you?", he jests opposite the table, where the others laugh behind their glasses at my disastarous state.

It began roughly 40 minutes ago, my easily-amused mind quite occupied with the stacking of empty beer bottles.Seeing this game to his liking, he tested his skills, his towers always falling and bringing mine down in a terrifying cresendo which I feared would always end with eyeballs scraped from shards of glass.
Once this game grew tiresom, or more, pissed too many others off, he amused himself in throwing random objects in my direction. Frowning, I returned the objects, eventually devisiing a 'secret plan', and returning with water bombs, pelting them at his surprised frame. When I returned with second rounds, he was well prepared, hose in one hand, large bottle of water in the other. On top of this, my aim grew poor. I was successful in attacking his torso, however.
You just wanted me to take my shirt off, didn't you?
I snorted at this, and dashed within the safety of the house for a usable bottle, filling it up with water and reciprocating his splashes. Eventually, he bolted to the poolside, and I shrieked in frustration as my bottle fell in the pool, leaving me defenseless.
I took one look at my already wet form, shrugged my shoulders and dove in the pool, now in a perfect battle zone, sending armfuls of water at him as he fought with his shoes. And then he was in the water beside me, and then I was under the water, and then I had all limbs wrapped around him, trying to force him underwater...
I hope you can hold your breath...

Later, and I'm just chillin' on the couch, but it appears he has made it his life goal to annoy me. Poke. Poke.
I raise my hand and bring my nails across his flesh in a haggard slash. I hear the other males warn him not to take me on. I grin, nails and teeth sharp and furious.
It doesn't take him long to be on top of me, holding me down in some fucked up form of dominance, leering at me as I try to sink my teeth into him, just once and he's regret this, just once. I manage a few good scratches, watching them fill with blood.
And allof a sudden, there are arms and legs and heads all around me, as every male in the room decides to help. Help him.
"Fuck off, I'm already struggling as it is!".
I simply refuse to yeild, taking the pain as it comes, trying to get a mouthful of his arm, his chest, his neck, anything to make him yelp in pain as I riiiiiip skin. He's got my fingers in a tight grip, twisting them back.
"If you break something, I will kill you", I hiss behind gritted teeth.
"I won't, I won't, I'm just proving that I can manipulate you in this hold".
He adjusts his grip. I've seen this one before. I exhale, deja-vu.
My neck sidles up with the couchhead, my arms twisted uncomfortably across my chest, neck in unnatural pain. Eventually, he releases me and I huff.

By the end of the hour, two of the other males have had a go at me, one managing to take a large and painful bite directly between neck and shoulder, in that favored dent. Twice. The other, a well built male at that, attempts some sort of hold from behind, and surprising the onlookers, I lift him onto my back and toss him off of me. He captured me in a chokehold, and this is where I bite. In.
I drag him across the room by meerly my mouth, tasting blood in my mouth. He tickles me, and still I hold tight, laughing with a mouthful of flesh. He attempts all things, but my grip is firm. I feel my teeth shift in further, and understanding I am near to taking a chunk out, I release, to be met with his teeth.
By dawn, the bite he left on me is a faint, but large bruise, whilst my bite is a evil looking puncture wound.

I dart to the corner of the room, curling up on the couch, snarling at everyone, clutching my kitten to my breast.
Come sit between us, my original combat partner says, patting the spot between himself and the well-built biter.
You can sit on my lap, says the biter.
My original combat partner extends his arms, pouting. I merely his from my seat. "You all suck!", I call, keeping my eyes trained on each one of them.

I have never had more fun whilst in such pain! :D

Scream of the butterfly...

2009-12-28T21:28:00.001+08:00

A creature made of sunshine
Her eyes were like the sky
Rabbit howls like something old as we twitch to her lullaby
The scalpel shines in god's sunshine
Street lights whisper pain
Down here near the poison stream our god has gone insane

She smiles like a child with flowers in her hair
With blood on her hands into the sun she stares
She feels it die, I heard her cry

Like the scream of the butterfly

Sunshine a house in flames
She likes it where she gets it but it's never felt the same
Surgery in the house of dissection
When your candle burns out I will resurrect you
She runs through fields of daisies
Yeah it's just a shame that they eat their own babies
Who cares cause the air is free
When you get there will you kiss the dead for me?

There's blood on the moon and the summer is cold
There's love in the room but baby that's gettin' old
There's blood on my face sittin' on a dead shore
A highway of emptiness and I'm gettin' bored
There's blood on the moon as we plan our escape
The goddess in bloom, handcuffed and raped
There's blood in the bathtub, baby, murder the king
There's blood on the moon
There's blood on just about everything

Sunshine a house in flames
She likes it where she gets it but it's never felt the same
Surgery in the house of dissection
When your candle burns out I will resurrect you
She runs through fields of daisies
Yeah it's just a shame that they eat their own babies
Who cares? 'Cause the air is free
When you get there will you kiss the dead for me?

Something cold is forced inside her
A tear spills down her cheek
Stillborn songs of a dead dreamer
Hymns of the needle freak
With sunlight in her hair she smiles like she don't care
Her dreams are liquid blue
I cut myself again and again to remind myself of you

She smiles like a child with flowers in her hair
With blood on her hands into the sun she stares
She feels it die, I heard her cry

Like the scream of the butterfly

I met an angel with a sawed-off shotgun
Wanted by the FBI
We dropped some acid, killed our parents
Then we hit the road

Like the scream of the butterfly

NtS 7.6

2009-12-28T16:32:00.002+08:00

Paperback novella. Note to self 7.6.

I have little time.
Time has little ol' me.
Hanging by threads, scissors wavering closer.
Abandon your friends.
I'd rather hurt someone then hurt myself.
Always care about yourself, because no one else ever will.
Don't bother speaking, no on listens anyway.
Nothing you think will ever matter.
Suicide is pointless.
Love is a myth.
Don't look back.
Never, ever attach yourself.
Avoid love at all costs.
Never judge a book by it's cover.
My addictions have no boundries.
I fell in love with a demon, for sure.
Time shows us, we all know the truth, in time.
I can light the way.
Happiness is feighned, smiles are faked.
Everything is pointless.
There's blood on just about everything.
Females suck.
Memories don't lie.
I'm not crazy.
God is a lie.
Everything is uncertain, bar my uncertainty.
I love you.
I hate you.
I'll kill you.
I'll kill me.
I'll kill the whole world.
Love is pointless.

End of story.

Why females suck.

2009-12-28T16:12:00.001+08:00

"Ohai, wake me up if my phone rings, or just let it ring out, kay?"
"Sure"
-Female friend answers phone, neglects to tell friend WHO IT WAS THAT CALLED when it was a very important call from someone friend doesn't hear from a lot, AND NEGLECTS to even tell friend WHAT WAS SAID-.

"Ohai, could you set an alarm on your phone for six, and wake me up,I have a very important mission to complete, meeting up with a dear friend I haven't seen in many, many months and probably won't if I don't today".
"Sure, I understand how important this is for you, and don't worry, we can stay here another night because I WILL wake you up".
-Wakes up at 1o, with simply two hours to get ready, get to traino, get to Freo from Kelmscott, call dear friend, arrange meeting-

"Ohai, could you baby-sit my cat for mewhilst I'm in Freo? It's hot as fuck and I don't want him stuck in his bag in the heat. Could we arrange a time/place forme to get him back because my phone is off?"
"Sure I can, don't worry about it. we'll sort something out. Call my house phone, I'll be there. Have an interesting day!"
-Arrives at friends house, after trying to call a few times, no sight of said friend, makes another call, is told friend is in CENTRAL PARK with CAT who has LIMITED FOOD in his bag, surrounded by DRUG-FUCKED, AGGRESSIVE NOHOPERS-.

Females, in short, are selfish WITCHES with no respect for your privacy, who NEVER LISTEN, who lie to your face, who DISRESPECT your feelings, USE YOU SENSELESS and then ABANDON YOU after making you feel bad for something THEY DID.
Also, they believe because they've done good by you in the past, that this excuses all new mistakes and fuck-ups. They weild blades and bare fangs and say things like "Oh, well I did -insert good deed which you were grateful for and repaid somewhat- for you, so this means I shoudl be forgiven for all the awful things I have just done".
Females think they know everyone so well, and like to speak for them. They are hypocrites who can't admit to their mistakes, never see the other side of an arguement and quickly point out everyone elses flaws, all up on their high horses with some apathetic facade, because since they're young and pretty, other people simply DO NOT MATTER, they get exactly as they want AND can get away with anything.

Dirty, little sluts. Why do females ALWAYS fuck me over?

I've never liked them.

Apologies to WOMEN out there, I just have no time for little girls.

:)

Ladder 46 + 2

2009-12-23T12:55:00.000+08:00

Amoeba
Small fish
Shark
mexican walking fish
Crocodile
Ape
Neanderthal
Barbarian

Shakespear
Einstein
Da Vinci
Hippie in the seventies
Modern age man
Future man
Computer
Robot

Psychic
High technology alien
Mayan
Shaman
Aldous Huxley
Divine Entity
God
Albert Hoffman

All of the above in one.

After... (5/10/08)

2009-12-23T04:58:00.001+08:00

We're going away for a little while.
I felt I should pack but I've got nothing left.
Nothing is for certain.
The only thing I can believe is my disbelief.
I don't know how we got here.
I don't know where here is.
It could be anywhere in the world,
But it still feels like no where.
My head is so heavy...
But I'm out of my mind.
I'm glad that you can see me,
Because I no longer can.
You think you know everything,
But you don't know how I feel.
My mind is racing,
Should I not be tired?
Here is where it falls apart.
The vultures will feed well tonight.

Drug-Fucked. (8/1/09)

2009-12-23T04:53:00.002+08:00

Starting with a little dose,
Scene kid fucked off benzo,
Streets filled with the dealing of dope,
City with headspace and bodystoned.

Ketamine, Codeine,
Morphine, Tryptamines.
One more set of amphetamines,
Breakfast of caffeine and nicotine.

Heroin, opium, now I need some Aspirin.
Ritalin, Vicodin, Mescaline with Mexicans.
DXM, Valium, all these fucking hallucinogens.
Blacking out, flipping out, needle full of adrenalin.

DMT, LSD, GHB, Ecstacy.
Shitty speed and nosebleeds,
Diet of weed and peyote,
Half-way through this fucking sheet!

Smoke that shit, smoke that crack.
Hiding all the needle tracks.
Feasting on bunch of tabs,
I just got another ten-stack!

What's in the vial?
I don't care.
Zombie style,
Smokin' gear.

MDMA,
LSA,
Cigarettes,
Prescription meds.

Magic mushrooms,
Railing cocaine,
Methadone,
Feed me Novocaine.

Wheres my stash?
Need more hash.
I'm on everything,
I'm fucking trashed.

Stimulants, Depressants,
Fucking inhalants,
Too many psychedelics,
Find me some narcotics.

Leaving with a bottle,
Coming home drunk,
Fingering crystals,
Feeling fucked.

I'm gurning,
I'm candy flipping,
Powder, bong, needle, joint, pill,
Anything to get me tripping.

Pulling cones, red eyes.
Coming down, glazed eyes.
Got fired from work for looking wrecked,
Need to stick to legal highs.

Weekend on salvia,
Weekend on datura,
Medic addict,
Find me liquids.

Losing weight, more sleep.
Wake up with hangovers and my memory gone.
Buzzing like fuck, less sleep.
Bruised armed and scattered, I write this song.

In this Moment (8/26/08)

2009-12-23T04:43:00.001+08:00

What are you staring at so intently?
The reflection in the water is of us.
Avert your eyes, for it is only us in the lake.
Well? Just look at us!
Do you think us beautiful?
They all do, let's see what makes them all so jealous.
And what do you see?
Oh, we are the masterpiece. Now I can finally see.
And what do you see?
Your eyes are like ice, why do they pierce me so? So cold, so frozen, so dead.
My eyes have died upon me, for they spent much time looking at images of lifelessness.
It took us a long time to get this far, I know you wanted to be here.You're not afraid, are you?
No.
Well? Are you?
I promise you, I have no fear.
Where is that smile? I do not like the malicious twist on your face.
I apologize if you do not like my expression, my face is just taught well, never to lie.
Oh, it fades now, in to something more sinister.
I apologize if this disturbs you.
At least now your eyes and your smile match, like we do.
You really think we are for one another?
Oh, we match. We are perfection!
So you say. If I left you alone, now, you would stare at yourself for years, would you not?
Speak not these bitter words, or I shall have your tongue!
And my words be bitter, you say?
Against mine, that is.
And you think now is the time to express our feelings?
I shall have you in all your entire gloriousness, my magnificant Prince, against the entire magnificance of me.
Your vanity is ubiquitous. May I call you Princess?
Yes, you may call me Princess, I do not mind, for what could be the harm in that?
I do not name you so for the reasons you suspect, but for the point of your conceit in which you justified.
There you go with that hurtful vocal exression again.
I apologize, but my words are also taught never to tell lies.
Quickly, now, kiss me!
I'll kiss you, my vain beauty.
There, that did make you stop?
It made me stop to consider why I am here with you now.
I see a tear in the pit of your eye.
Yes, I can feel the tear forming, now. I apologize. You may remove it, but it is for you.
I will not whipe your emotions away. I shall let it fall in to the clear, crystal lake that serves as our mirror.
Our mirror? You think the lake exists solely to display our figures?
I could watch us forever, for we are so perfect.
I know you could watch for eternity, my vain beauty.
Where are our flaws?
I can see our imperfections, even if you are too inside yourself to notice. If I place my hand across your heart... I feel ice.
Don't be so quick to take your hands and indicate the parts of us, for they are flaws only to those that see them that way.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, love.
They always said, beauty was in the eye of the beholder. If we held their eyes, then we would be beautiful, for they see us as nothing but.
You'd choose to cause such suffering upon another to proove to me that we are a masterpiece? I knew your heart was cold, but I was sure it at least existed. Perhaps I was wrong, then.
You confuse me. Can you not see our grace?
Grace? I know a little of grace. A swan weilds grace, but we have nothing of that value.
We are like two swans, white and pure, softly dancing across the pretty lakes surface.
I could never compare us to something like that.
You do not feel so sure? Just look at us, my love! Just look, and tell me we are not perfect!
We are not perfect, love. Far from it, I trust. Or more, I should hope, for else I may deeply regret what I will do next.
Would you swear that on my life?
Of course, I would swear it gladly upon your life. But, oh, you never listen to me. Really, did you not here what I just spoke? You have grown so tedious, and you are not in the slightest attentive. How can I love thee if you are too busy with yourself to notice?
Oh...
I'm sorry. They envied you for your outer skin, in all it's flawlessness. Smooth and beautiful, but utterly heartless. I cannot love thee.
I'm bleeding.
Now your body shall forever be displayed in the lakes clear reflection, as you would have it no other way. You may stare at yourself forever, my beauty, and perhaps you'll soon deteriate and decay and see that you would have been better off with a heartbeat all along.

Where have you been? (10/2/2008)

2009-12-23T04:41:00.001+08:00

Raindrops falling like lava in to the sea,
A feeling of sanity washes over me.
Lava falling like raindrops in to your hands,
A feeing of clarity, we suddenly understand.
Puddles for the reflections of vampires,
A beetle-shell button to adorn your jacket.
We made these things.
The siren sings to the mirror.
Her monologue, her soliloquay.
Her suicide.

The dog barked just the other day at me,
A feeling of intensity washes over me.
The other day a dog just barked, standing there,
A feeling of serenity adjacent to your stare.
Vampires in the reflection of puddles,
A jacket adorned with a beetle-shell.
We broke these things.
The siren sings to the mirror.
Her monologue, her soliloquay.
Her suicide.

The softest breeze, so open your eyes
See it, touch it, as the ocean cries
Bacteria having a party in your bath,
migrating to skin, to nails, to mouth
Their disco music turned up so loud,
Dropping the surfer back in to the crowd,
A spiked drink, an unconcious disease
Taking over you in sweet release
The party's over, immune system breaks in...
You ask yourself "Where have you been?"
.............................................................................

Mark, R.I.P 1991-2007

2009-12-23T04:31:00.002+08:00

(Two poems for Mark I recently found. Written of Mark's tragic suicide).

FIVE YEARS. (9/8/08)

You were so young and beautiful
Why'd you have to ruin it all?
You took it.
And it changed.
And you couldn't go back.
Because you took it.
You didn't mean to.
You weren't given a choice.
But you took it from them,
Then took life from yourself.
And you made her pay for your mistakes.
How could you have known?
I know it's not your fault.
But she felt it too!
She took it too!
But she didn't paint her walls a filthy red!
That shade of red did not match the carpets!
You took it.
It didn't mean that much.
You made it feel like everything.
Five fucking years meant a lot!
You made it feel like nothing
I think you ruined your chance at life,
Taking it like a filthy knife,
Taking it inside of you...
Killing everything you knew.
And like blood, it bleeds from you.
It drowns us all, and murders you.
So why not take the fucking knife
And end the life you ruined that night?
You were so young and beautiful,
T'was a shame to see you fall.
Thinking back, how could I have known?
That five years could change so much?
That you could ruin so much?
That it would hurt so much....
She told you it was over, you didn't need to take it again.
You never told her your life was over!
She just had to wait!
Five fucking years!!
She waited for you for five fucking years!
She found you!
She lost you.
You left her!
She tried to follow!
But it wasn't the right shade of red.
Why'd you go and leave her?
Why'd you go and change everything?
Why'd you ruin life for her?
Why'd you take your own?
"Five years has gone so fast".
To which you replied
"My life is going faster".
Because that five years meant nothing?
It was five fucking years!
Five fucking years she waited.
For what?
For this?
It hurts so bad.
You took it.
You took it away.
You took it away from her, from yourself.
What choice did she have?
You'd taken a knife to yourself, and the damage was irrepairable!
You couldn't reverse the scars, the wounds would not close.
Five fucking years.
She waited for you.
She waited for this.
So before you play the blame game.
Take a good look in the mirror.
And tell me....
How could five years not mean a thing?
It means everything to me that it meant nothing to you.

Oh, Fuck. (9/8/08)

Scars are falling off your face,
Memories are unwinding,
Where are you now?
Is this what you call yourself?
Pitiful, pitiful.
Splitting the skin with the razor
and watching the vibrant red explode over and under your thoughts.
And as it streams in a thick red line down, down, down...
Dripping, dripping...
Make it stop, make it stop!
You did this to yourself!
You are all there is to blame!
Accept it, child. Accept it!
You are not wanted!
You are not loved!
Somebody out there is praying for the existance of your grave!
celebrate your deathday, celebrate like them!
Maybe then you will be them!
Oh, the thoughts.
Stop the thoughts!
Bleeding... So bright... So....Well is it!!? Is it really red or is your vision blurred!?
Struggle to breathe... Struggle, splutter, splutter...
Why not take a gun instead?
Better yet, speak to me!
That's right, I'm not there!
I'm not there, where am I instead?
Wallowing in self pity!?
It shouldn't have ended this way.
It should never have started at all!
What did they do!?
What have you done!?
What should I say to help you this time 'round?
Oh, please. Oh, please.
I can't breathe.
You won't breathe.
Splattered brains on white walls.
Red, crusting blood on frail, weak wrists.
Oh, fuck.
What now!?
What the fuck have you done!?
I'm too late, I'm too late!
But I didn't know!
How could I have known!?
Oh, please. Oh, please.
Take me from this scene.
Oh, fuck...Take my life away!
Pick up the gun... Do it... Do it... Did it.
Put it to your head... Do it... Do it...Did it.
Pull the trigger... Do it... Do it...

Thought loops.

2009-12-21T19:51:00.002+08:00

I'm sure each of us has had an osession with fractals at some point, and surely heard Sam I Am's fractal lecture enough times to remember it word for word...
So I don't really need to explain fractals here.
In short, a complex mathematical equation, a pattern which repeats itself an infinite amount of times.
To explain just how far the fractals go, take a look at atoms. Between atoms, is space. And what is between planets?
Everything is a fractal, including thoughts.
And whilst smoking la ganja and watching Return To Oz, a thought hit me.

A thought fractal would be essentially a thought that repeats itself an infinite amount of times. ;D Acid loops.

Simply encountering a thought fractal will naturally bring about a thought loop.

Haven't figured out how a thought fractal comes to be, or how to avoid a loop, but eh. Makes perfect sense, but I'm sure this is already known but I'm still quite proud of myself.

A disappointment.

2009-12-16T04:24:00.002+08:00

I recently learned how it feels to disappoint a parent.

I freaked out, called Krys and begged her to come to me. Throwing all current plans away, she rushed to me, but first had to explain to her parents why I needed her so bad at such late hours of the eve in order for her to come.

Naturally, her conservative folks have no clue of LSD, and first suggested an ambulance. Lol. thank fuck Krys knows what she's doing! That could've turned out baaaaad.

But anyways, so they now know of my drug escapades and are so disappointed in me. I feel... guilty and bad. :/

I have to face them tomorrow night and I'm going to feel so fucking awkward, Imma have no clue what to say to them.

Honestly, I don't know how she copes!

But it's still kind of nice that they care about me, haha. It's kinda as if they've adopted me into theor family. I'm touched, but I feel like shit knowing they know what a fuck-up I am.

Never before in my life have I felt bad about taking drugs. :/ I just viewed the whole thing in an entirely new light.

Coincedentally, I just finished reading Go Ask Alice. My thoughts on it were 'man, if her conservative parents were more accepting drugs and shit, Alice would've been able to talk to them and never would of ended up running off and fucking up so much shit'.

I know how Krys feels. ;_;

split, crack, split, crack go the broken hearts.

2009-12-16T03:35:00.003+08:00

You'd been in the pit for hours, and now you approach me, telling me if she wasn't here by sundown, you'd kill yourself. I stood shocked in the semi-rain, my heart cracking. I didn't know what do do, but I knew I had to do it. For you, because, all that I do is for you.
Through the city, time at my heels, the sun with it's evil grin as it began to slip behind the edge of the world, my world. I wanted to cry, but this was no time fo sorrows. Begging people to direct me to her, begging people to show me some way of contacting her.
And he was with me, just like he sat with me when I first saw you several months back and cried for hours, just like he knew what was best for me and kept me away from you that night when you howled in the pit, and he told me "you don't want to see this", expecting the worst.
He's been with me for the worst of times, and all the best. And it makes me wonder... where are you when my heart is bleeding on the loungeroom floor, crying for you? Sure as hell, he's there, and she's there, like she was there when I needed her most, coming to me in the middle of the night just to be sure I was okay, forgetting everything to be there for me.
Where are you when I'm singing out my love of everything, acid grin in place? She's there, holding my hand, and he's there, playing with my hair, but where are you?

You're in my head, and in my heart, but you're never in my arms, not at my best, not at my worst, not when my whole world is crumbling and I rock back and fourth in a corner, unable to speak anything but your name, blanks in my memory, all the world worried for me, even the angels losing sleep.
You just... don't... care anymore.
Not like you did when we first met, and you said you believed in love at first sight. You made me so important, and I made you my everything.
I stood by you, defended your ass when everyone accused of such dirty things, I forgave you for everything you ever did, and I held your hand whilst you lost your mind, I made time to see you, make sure you were okay, while everyone else judged me for it.

I don't know what happened, I don't know when you stopped loving me, but I know for sure what it feels like to have a broken heart.

And still, after all of this, I love you endlessly. For all your flaws, and all your mistakes, and all the shit you put me through, and for all the times you were never there, and still aren't... And I still love you hopelessly.

And I will wait... Because there's nothing else to do. I will wait 'til you remember how much I meant to you, wait 'til you realise no one in this world will ever love you as much as I do. No one ever could.

And yet, you still don't care.

The seeds we planted.

2009-12-15T22:34:00.003+08:00

Demon, demon, on my shoulder.
Tell me, am I getting older?
Is there progression in procrastination?
I feel I've spent many years just laughing.
I have learned, and grown I have,
but my guides are leaving and I have no map.
And I can't do it on my own.
And where do I fight, without a home?
It's walls are crumbling, within demons sleep,
their filth seeps out into the streets.
The streets now dirty, where I once played,
Sometimes I wish I could've stayed.
Let go of my principles, and just stayed strong.
I'm sure I'll get it together before too long.
I fell in love, with a demon for sure.
He is a man of many flaws.
While outside I'm singing, smiling, beaming.
Inside I'm dying, bleeding, screaming.
I can never remember just how I felt.
Insanity greets me as my brain starts to melt.
Drugs, delusions and the rest.
I feel I'm being put to the test.
But I no longer am on my own.
The task is easier when I'm not alone.
I've discovered true friendship, something new to me.
And as the wool is lifted, I begin to see.
I stand ground for what I truely believe,
and though there are wounds in the soles of my feet,
I march on, to go out in guts and glory.
I march 'til the very end of my story.
And though they are many, and we are few,
from the seeds that we planted, the revolution grew.
Demon, demon in my my mind,
help me recover more of my kind,
help us to end this procrastination,
and set us on ther path to our ascension.

Plans.

2009-12-13T19:53:00.002+08:00

A God has invited me to cause chaos in the eastern states.
An angel has invited me to save trees down south.
An old friend has invited me to be the princess of the place up north.

...

I don't know what to do.

White Rabbit.

2009-12-09T23:17:00.002+08:00

Everyone is out to get me.
I am not safe.
I can trust no one, for everyone is a demon.
They want to skin me.
Thursday 28th of some month is my glorious downfall.
'Til then, I tremble like a rabbit.
I will dig a hole and hide within until they go away.
With only the demons of Time and Knowledge on my side, I am so terribly frightened.
Trust no one. Do not blink. Be wary of glitches and laz0rz.
Even sleep offers no safety.
Find him.
Please hold me.
I don't know if you want to hurt me, but I trust your decisions...
Scared white rabbit, late for a very important date.
21 12 2012.
I am late.
They want my skin.
Time fucked me over. Knowledge lied.
Please hold me.
My walls are crumbling.
She wants to kill me most of all. She is laying a trap.
Doesn't it hurt to be black and evil?
I hurt.
Knowledge, Time, My All, My Teacher. Please guide me.
I am late for a very important date.
21 12 2012.

We didn't start the fire.

2009-12-07T17:37:00.002+08:00

Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnnie Ray
South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe Di Maggio
Joe McCarthy, Richard Nixon, Studebaker, television
North Korea, South Korea, Marilyn Monroe
Rosenbergs, H-Bomb, Sugar Ray, Panmunjom
Brando, "The King and I", and "The Catcher in the Rye"
Eisenhower, vaccine, England's got a new queen
Marciano, Liberace, Santayana goodbye

We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it

Josef Stalin, Malenkov, Nasser and Prokofiev
Rockefeller, Campanella, Communist Bloc
Roy Cohn, Juan Peron, Toscanini, Dacron
Dien Bien Phu Falls, Rock Around the Clock
Einstein, James Dean, Brooklyn's got a winning team
Davy Crockett, Peter Pan, Elvis Presley, Disneyland
Bardot, Budapest, Alabama, Khrushchev
Princess Grace, Peyton Place, Trouble in the Suez

We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it

Little Rock, Pasternak, Mickey Mantle, Kerouac
Sputnik, Chou En-Lai, Bridge On The River Kwai
Lebanon, Charles de Gaulle, California Baseball,
Starkwether, Homicide, Children of Thalidomide
Buddy Holly, Ben Hur, Space Monkey, Mafia
Hula Hoops, Castro, Edsel is a no-go
U2, Syngman Rhee, payola and Kennedy
Chubby Checker, Psycho, Belgians in the Congo

We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it

Hemingway, Eichmann, Stranger in a Strange Land,
Dylan, Berlin, Bay of Pigs invasion
Lawrence of Arabia, British Beatlemania
Ole Miss, John Glenn, Liston beats Patterson
Pope Paul, Malcolm X, British Politician sex
J.F.K. blown away, what else do I have to say

We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it

Birth control, Ho Chi Minh, Richard Nixon back again
Moonshot, Woodstock, Watergate, punk rock
Begin, Reagan, Palestine, Terror on the airline
Ayatollah's in Iran, Russians in Afghanistan
Wheel of Fortune, Sally Ride, heavy metal, suicide
Foreign debts, homeless Vets, AIDS, Crack, Bernie Goetz
Hypodermics on the shores, China's under martial law
Rock and Roller cola wars, I can't take it anymore

We didn't start the fire
It was always burning since the world's been turning.
We didn't start the fire
But when we are gone
It will still burn on, and on, and on, and on...

We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it

Level 48 Wizatrd.

2009-12-07T12:45:00.002+08:00

I have encountered many of my Great Teachers and personal Guides.
I have grown greatly, experience and education have made me strong and ready.
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
Wake up, wake up, wake up.
Keep telling yourself that, but will you wake up?
I am not a failure, I rarely make a mistake, and I have no regrets.
I think I'm ready, but I can't tell for sure.
Luckily, patience is one of my many virtues.

-Snap-
Wake up! WAKE THE FUCK UP!
Now is the time where we must end this time of thinking and discussing a whole lot, but never actually doing anything.
We must combine consciousness and realise we all have a similar goal. Different beliefs, different motivation, but we are one.
We must learn to recognise our own flaws, dispose of our arrogance. We must learn to recognise our good points, dispose of this endless self-loathing.

I thank every being, and the entirety of the universe for getting me this far, and now it is my turn.
I vow now to end all selfish ways of thinking, to not look at things so personally, but to view them on a universal scale.

I will let go and move on from what holds me back, even if it hurts. No pain, no gain.

We must regroup, reunite.

We are in this together, 'til the end.

Enough of this materialistic earth. Onwards, for we've never been satisfied.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

I have forgiven your flaws, mistakes.

I will not, can not, be broken. My fire is NOT out yet, and it will burn long with the strength of love and anger.

Do not hate those incapable of love, shock them.

Pride is a sin, never forget.

But universal love is an achievement.

I do love unconditionally, I do, I do.

LSD 123 Dine with me!

2009-12-04T15:21:00.001+08:00

Lsd whiped my vocab clean.

I could still understand what was being said by those around me, but my mind was so distant, thinking on a greater scale, that focusing on responding verbally was so unimportant and distracting, and above all, I couldn't do it.
At first, everything I said contained the words 'doof party in the bush, bus, dub, douche'. And that was it. Eventually, the people I was with at the time tried to direct my speech flow, giving me words that I would repeat, and remember using and happily add it to my speech.
Krys was worried for, as usual, her concern immense. I, however, was quite happy conciously. Eventually, I discovered a technique to help me expand my vocab. Word association games.
'Doof party in the bush - flap your wings! - Sam I Am - Fractals - LSD - doof party in the bush! '
'Douche - Yinyang - Phoenix - oldhouse - Rasta - Ganja - Doof party in the bush!'
Continued getting into loops, ecause doofs somehow relate to everything. >.<

I even forgot my friends names. Pickle became 'bush', the Asian kid and Kieren were both 'douche', Krys was 'dub', and I myself was 'Bus'.
Krys tried to correct this.

"Who's that?"
"Bush"
"Who's that?"
"Pickle?"

"Who's that?"
"Douche"
"Keiren"
"Keiren douche"

"Who's that?"
"Douche"
"Actually, I can't help you, I don't know the Asian kids name either :3"

-Pointing to herself-
"Who's that?"
"Dub"
"Who's that?"
"Dub!"
"Krys"
"Dub!!!"
"Krys"
"Dub Krys"

-Pointing to me-
"Who are you?"
"Bus!"
"Who are you?"
"Bus bus bus bus!"
"Ferret"
"Ferret bus!"

At some point on the bus, the Asian kid chatting away happened to mention 'aw nu bru'.
My face lit up at that. "Aw nu bru!" I beamed, happily.

She taught me how to say 'hey', so I'd have something to say to her mother. However, seemed a bit rude when, storming out of the room, her mother asking 'are you okay?' and me responding with 'hey'. She was quite offended, actually. Awwww shiiiit!

I bounced around shouting irrelevant things, and about two hours later, got into quite a trife mood, calling everyone and everything 'simple minded filth', repeating something about 'tick, tock, tick, tock, that is your deathclock' and 'Hypocrisy at it's finest', just generally mocking everyone and being a condescending cunt. :D

Was quite an interesting experiment. I didn't know I could reprogram my entire vocab in two hours, or say all the cool things I said when I was all cunty and shit. Wish I'd written some of the speeches I made down. Clever cunt is clever.

Haha, the shit LSD will do. <3

Nevermind that, all in all, Krys's friend thinks I'm completely insane even without acid. I just grin and assure him I am his future, a warning to all aspiring trippers.

The wisest of men can admit that he knows nothing.

2009-11-27T03:14:00.000+08:00

Enough said.

Why isn't 8 perfect?

2009-11-27T02:50:00.005+08:00

People compare themselves too often. Sometimes, it makes them feel like scum, jealous, envious.
Sometimes, they feel a lot better about themselves, and feel sympathy for what they believe to be less.
I simply feel like a God whenever I try and compare myself to someone else, so I try not to, because it's come to my recent attention that I am the only one to find over-confident, condescending, arrogant people with a God complex attractive. Most find these kind of people quite irritating.
I do not, however, find hypocrisy attractive and it is admirable when people stick to their word. Catching people out on principle has become a habit of mine, using peoples own weapons and defence mechanisms against them. It is satisfying.
It should by now be a known truth that men who discuss how much experience they have, how many people they know, 'their connections', are simply trying to intimidate. Intimidation is usually successful, however, it is a sign of weakness in my eyes. A man who raises his voice and/or his fists too often is trying to make his enemy back-down through fear, because he himself has fear. A courageous man will stick to his beliefs, even if he knows his opponent could overpower him in physical strength. A wise man will leave the situation if he knows he is fighting a losing battle.
A common mistake is taking a mans departure as weakness. If a man does not want to fight, because he does not agree with violence, and sees no chance of coming out on top anyway, leaving the war zone is the wisest decision he can make. And simply not reacting to the calls of 'pussy' as he takes his leave is true strength, for controlling ones emotions can be difficult.
In my eyes, the guy who 'mans up', attracts unwanted attention to himself and lets his anger get the better of him is weak and rather stupid.
It is terrible what the idea of what is 'male' is.
It is also quite terrible that so many females are attracted to this macho imagery. Nothing of true value is allowed to survive in the world today.

Media. Must. Die.

Amen to that.

Written truths.

2009-11-27T02:22:00.003+08:00

When you study words, you begin to realize they are quite similar in meaning.

Destruction and creation - exact opposites, but essentially the same thing.
Creation often stems from sadness (note our great, terribly miserable poets, artists and musicians of the past, many resulting in suicide). Destruction naturally stems from anger. But destruction is a form of art in itself, and creation is art. That must mean creation is destruction, and it is. You can not create something from nothing (atheist argument) and thus you must first destroy the original something and replace it with your creation. Not psychically, but then you don't always have to create something psychically.
Now, anger and sadness are not opposites, but still similar. The only real difference is that sadness is a self-wallowing feeling, whilst anger is taking it out upon someone/something else.
Which brings us to Punk and Hippie. Only difference between the two is that Hippies love the earth they live upon, and Punks hate the thing destroying it.
Love and hate are opposites and exactly the same. It is impossible to hate without first having love. Hate someone for hurting you when you had love for them, hate someone for hurting those you love, hate someone for destroying the earth you love. Both love and hate are essential. Both control us greatly and make us do stupid, stupid things. And both can be terrible to experience, but also very comfortable.

Nobody these days is prepared to listen. This is because everybody feels alone, like they are the only ones feeling or experiencing what they are. So, when somebody begins speaking, they immediately try to relate themselves to it and begin speaking of themselves, so they can feel like they have something in common, like they have a connection.
Connection. This is something to seek.
People do not realise they are doing this, however. It is truth that the only verifiable knowledge is knowledge of the self. In most cases, by understanding yourself, you can then have a better understanding of other people. For those like myself, it works anti-clockwise. By using other people as an example, studying them, we embark upon the journey of self discovery.

Why do people fear death? Because they do not wish to cease living. Hindus have much less fear because instead of fearing a blank eternity, or possible eternal torture in the realms of all evil, they believe in a cycle of life. Where one soul spirit simply leaves it's shell and finds a new one, much like changing clothing, and continue on. They also understand the laws of karma, something generally accepted now, and say that those living unfortunate lives are simply paying for wrong-doing in the previous. A soul upgrades from a fish, to a plant, to an insect, and so fourth 'til the human body, and if they do not succeed then, they start the cycle again. But they also understand that this does not mean a human being is more advanced than the lower stages of the cycle. "A dog may sleep on the streets, whilst a man sleeps in his apartment on an expensive bed, overlooking a beautiful view, but the man is no more happy in his sleep than the dog. In sleep, the man forgets about his valuables and the dog is just as happy with what he is without".

I've been reading, and talking with interesting characters, and undoubtedly with myself. It's once again the time for expansion.

Shameful Memories, Weed Sodomizes the Brain, Mary Jane.

2009-11-23T00:15:00.003+08:00

I aquired a lot of this from shame, for from mistakes there's much to gain.
All you are is sorry dogs, and all you do is kill for fun.
All I know is I'll be gone, and you'll be left alone again.
And I know it is so beyond you, that all we know is all we know.
And Mary, Mary Jane...
There's just something about Mary.

C'mon, pass the joint.
Everything is all my fault.
All in all, insomnia.

Choking on the remains of my memory.
Choking on a bitter heart shaped hand grenade.
Choking on the hashish in this room...
Memory, Memory, Memory.

Ah, Mary Jane, look what you've done to me?

Feminist assault.
Find my next victim.
Hypocrisy grew from shame.
But I am not a zombie yet.
I can still bring the change, for I can see my shame.
I concede false shame.
I have no wish to fight.
I proceed with pain.
Memory, Memory, Memory.

Risen from the ashes of an entity, I'm concieved from shame.
It must suck to be like you.
C'mon, pass the joint!
Mary, Mary, marry me.

...And now the zombie comes...
Oh no, is this all we are?
Mary, Mary Jane.

It's like sodomy, but I'm so goddamn merry!
Opposite of shame, our opponents are portrayed.
Sunlit razorburn.
Our love is all we have.
Sunburnt phrasal verb.
Unknown to me.
Memory, Memory, Memory.

Overdue.

2009-11-23T00:05:00.002+08:00

You hate me half the time.
I've vgot clockwork in my eyes.
I know you think I'm overdue.
And I agree with you.
But I do win the internet.
Although my plan is never set, you're stuck with me for a little while.
And I do take the van, laden with salvia, that's why you hear me at the trial.
I'll take a Xanax worth, just to get the feeling right.
I'm hunting White Rabbit for tonight.
This isn't as bad as you make it out to be, but still...
You hate me, I can tell.
But my mind is a credible place.
You heard me, I can travel.

And I quote...

2009-11-22T23:33:00.001+08:00

"It is known that there are an infinite number of worlds, simply because there is an infinite amount of space for them. However, not every one of them is inhabited. Therefore, there must be a finite number of inhabited worlds. Any finite number divided by infinity is as near to nothing as makes no odds, so the average population of all the planets in the Universe can be said to be zero. From this it follows that the population of the whole Universe is also zero, and that any people you may meet from time to time are merely the products of a deranged imagination."

Acid spasm.

2009-11-12T16:58:00.001+08:00

Once upon a brisk, clear eve, Bobbie ate some LSD, she started trippin, she started flippin, and then she came and found me.
Once upon a doofing day, Ferret's mind had gone astray, she had a bad habbit, of eating acid, and she invited the faeries to play.
Once upon an evil night, Magentas mind had quite a fright, she was tripping bawlz, and time was stalled, and the fractals were such a sight.
Once upon a Bobbies bed, there were demons inside young Cals head, he cried for help, and started to yelp, and by morning he was dead.
Once upon a floating isle, Aj lost his mind for a while, He said he was God, when he was actually not, but he turned into a crocodile.
Once upon a central park, Davids mind had quite the start, he started looping, his smile was drooping, and his eyes did forward dart.
Once upon a daily drought, young Sir Jaymes was freaking out, he'd had too much, of acid and such, and now he's nowhere about.
Once upon a old green tree, Pickle took bulk LSD, he talked to himself, and sat on a shelf, and fractals were all he could see.

Song to say goodbye.

2009-11-11T18:58:00.000+08:00

You are one of God's mistakes,
You crying, tragic waste of skin,
I'm well aware of how it aches ,
And you still won't let me in.
Now I'm breaking down your door,
To try and save your swollen face ,
Though I don't like you anymore,
You lying, trying waste of space..

Before our innocence was lost,
You were always one of those ,
Blessed with lucky sevens ,
And the voice that made me cry .
My Oh My.

You were mother nature's son ,
Someone to whom I could relate ,
Your needle and your damage done,
Remains a sordid twist of fate.
Now I'm trying to wake you up ,
To pull you from the liquid sky ,
Coz if I don't we'll both end up ,
With just your song to say goodbye.
My Oh My.

A song to say goodbye,
A song to say goodbye ,
A song to say...
Before our innocence was lost,
You were always one of those,
Blessed with lucky sevens,
And the voice that made me cry.

The end of the world as we know it.

2009-11-10T16:28:00.003+08:00

Silly girl with the ocelot smile

I like your style, and it's been a while

Dreams of going out in guts and glory

Tell me, girl, what's your story?

Nostalgia cuts like a knife

The end of the best of your life

The lights are on, but nobody's home

Jewels and gold caress your throne

Come on down and join the crowd

Silence is golden, your voice is too loud

Hiding behind Autumns hair

Without a care, skin so fair

Wholesome yet so incomplete

458 marks the street

Summer days and winter haze

The moments are gone, but the memory stays

Turn your back on what once was

Leave the tree once to be covered in moss

Miss your friends, miss your lover

This house was like a house no other

But shit happens, shit hits the fan

Chain yourself to walls that you wish to stand

The demons wall can never fall

If only there was a chance for time to stall

Gun-raids, cop-raids and drug insanity

A piece of mind, a state of clarity

Experience is what you wanted, it's what you got

Times were hard, I'll miss it a lot

Never the same, how to move on?

I know it'll be okay before too long

Silly girl with the ocelot smile

I like your style, and it's been a while.

And a slogan was concieved.

2009-11-05T03:40:00.001+08:00

Hay guys, I'M NEUROTIC!!! Ha. Who new?

Love letter to someone like you.

2009-11-05T00:37:00.003+08:00

Oh, I'm no God, but beside you it's hard to not feel like such.
You're bleeding on the bathroom floor, it's four am, your arms are bruised and sliced, and the needle is not far from here.
I watch you from the window, watch you undress, watch you sleep.
Sometimes I creep into your bedroom and touch myself.
In the morning, you take a shower, wash your hair, put on your shortest dress, apply the thick, heavy make-up to hide the purple, and then you leave the building, fishnets and heels.
Sometimes I want to kill you. Sometimes I want to take a hammer to your face. Sometimes I want to show you what real pain is, so you'll never cut yourself again.
Mostly, I just want to penetrate your ass.
I'd like to hear you scream, your voice is so pretty and I bet your tears taste like sugar.
On your way out, you sometimes smile and say hello to me, quiet tone, fake smile, false politeness. You try to hide it from me, and everyone else.
Sometimes I follow you when you walk down the street. I like the way your ass moves, the way your hips swing, and I wonder what it would be like to insert a blade inside you.
When you get home, you put on your miserable music at full volume, and sometimes you shut the blinds. Sometimes, you forget and I watch you smoke your drugs.
I like when your boyfriend comes over, and fucks you hard in your shaven cunt, and pulls on your hair 'til you cry.
By the time he leaves, you're usually on the floor, with a few additional bruises. Sometimes, you call your mother, or maybe a close friend, and I see you cry to them over the phone.
I'm coming over tonight, and I'm bringing a friend. I have a fun night planned for us both.
I love you, Lisa.
So very much, it's true.
I'm touching myself whilst thinking of all things I could do to you.

The aftermath.

2009-11-05T00:05:00.002+08:00

The gentle sound of water lapping the cadaver.
The cheerful sound of birds wishing a good morn to the sky.
The nostalgia breeding sound of your voice, the voice that brings tears to my eyes.
The persistent sound of buzzing flies.
The miserable sound of my own voice calling for you.
The harsh whispering of something dead.

Take it, you whore, take it all.

The awful smell of rotting flesh.
The sweet smell of freshly awoken flowers.
The familiar smell of your favorite perfume.
The dreadful smell of human excretement.
The reminding smell of stale blood on my thighs.
The putrid scent of something dead.

Take the whore, my all, take her whole.

The gorey sight of dismembered limbs.
The tempting sight of natures things.
The haunting sight of your bleeding eyes in the photograph.
The pitiful sight of roadkill.
The terrible sight of rope wounds around my wrists.
The traumatizing visual of something dead.

Swallow it whole, my whore, take it whole.

The mushy feel of a dead girl left too long in the water.
The soft feel of your four-legged companion with the keen sense of smell.
The missing feel of your pretty heart against mine.
The messy feel of the drying mud on the white dress.
The tearful feel of blood running down my legs.
The horrifying touch of something dead.

Eat it all, you witch, swallow it whole.

The filthy taste of dead blood cells and a cold corpse.
The ugly taste of your mutilated best friend with the waggily tail.
The disturbing taste of your missing heart which now resides in my palm.
The unwanted taste of shit and insect beneath my nails.
The aftertaste of LSD.
The dirty sampling of something dead.

That's it, my witch, be gone forevermore.

They gave me the LSD and they took me to the hotel... I dunno what they done to me, but I remember, it was horrible.

Kiss her goodbye, little whore, kiss your sister goodbye, and don't forget your lover. I'll get you, and your little dog too! Haha.

21-15 33-16 30-18

2009-11-04T16:22:00.002+08:00

Hay guys, do you think a 21 year old guy fucking a 15 year old girl is wrong, if they are clearly in love, and he gets her pregnant?
How about a 33 year old guy fucking a 16 year old girl, her doing it for drugs, whilst they fuck with eachothers heads, and calling the 21 year old a pedophile and threatening to kill the baby?
How about a 30 year old guy fucking an 18 year old girl, and constantly doing everything in eachothers power to piss one another off, and whilst noticing the other relationships in the house, but oblivious to the fact that some people may find their relationship a little wrong?

Just curious, that's all. ^.^ hypothetical situation.
legally, the 21 year old is in the wrong, but the two are in love and she's more mature than any adult I know. The third party isn't wronf at all, in my opinion, but just feeling a little guilty for getting so worked up at the second pairing for being HYPOCRITICAL CUNTS.

Ahem.

Character definition.

2009-11-04T15:45:00.005+08:00

I created an amzing piece, probably the most incredible thing I have ever created. It was about the Great Wall/Line, the white charge, the central pyramid, finding the piece of mind, blue-purple skinned children and much more. Problem, at home, we do not have internet connection so I can not post this on my blog. It doesn't help that none of my housemates could possibly begin to FATHOM the three page long piece I wrote.

Momentage a la Squa'

2009-10-25T17:49:00.002+08:00

[[and you want to be dressed in poetry,[[
]]but imagery doesn't fit,
and you want resizing,]]
:::but darling dear,
get a grip;;;

First night, I lost my virginity to the X.
Second night, I lost track of time and slumbered on matresses for five days straight.
Before long, I was smoking la ganja again, all day, wake and bake. two states of mind.
Then I went on a bit of an acid rampage, we're going to go see a panther.
Tripping balls from dawn 'til dusk.
Then, came the alcohol. borderline alcoholic, baby.
I scored my own room, started dating a pretty girl, witnessed love and lust in all it's shades, watched the entire film-like progression of drug-induced psychosis, saw the wrath of crack-cocaine, shed tears for two close friends, had a gun to my head...
Amongst many other great and bad experiences.
A little kitten died just recently, a small grey furred thing that was found abandoned on the side of the road. I think a lot of people are feeling guilty over this.
Douche the guinea-pig has discovered he enjoys weed a lot, he smoked a cone the other eve, he also enjoys toking on cigarettes and riding my shoulder to the bottle shop.

This isn't the place it was once. This isn't topless nights, and days of painted people, and arrogant bastards making fools of themselves for the rest of our entertainment...
Almost all of the old faces are forever gone... Replaced by new faces that are crushing hopes.

This isn't the place it used to be.
This isn't a place I want to go to anymore, this is just a place I have to go to sleep.
Damn.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mo7kL1yUUC4

^ (watch) .
May these moments be treasured forever and ever and ever.

Do not read if you wish to live.

2009-10-20T16:07:00.002+08:00

Sometimes I get a little worked up, this I know.
It's not a problem of mine, no flaw or inperfection.
In fact, it all works out for the better, worked up for the better.
I'm going to assume things when you are dishonest with me, just so you are aware.
I'm beginning to see a different side of things, me, you, them, her, him, this, that, the other.
It's incredible that you fail to see the flowers on your side of the grass.
But anyway, the point of the matter is, you're entirely screwed up.
It's not a problem of yours, no flaw or inperfection.
Think of it as a guideline, and nothing more.
My friends tell me things that are untrue.
My friends tell me to wait for you.
My friends tell me everything you do.
My friends tell me they can't keep up with you.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, words mean nothing compared to the sunlight.
It's not as if I've stopped believeing in you... It's more that I feel you have stopped believing in me, so here I state my cause.
This is not a love song, this is not a suicide letter, this is not an essay, this is not a lecture.
This is a peice of art, written for me, by me.
Choose to see yourself amongst my words, if you will, but please don't tell me what to do anymore.
I have enough trouble listening to myself.
If these 'peices of art' go against your beliefs, expectations or political views, I do not apologize, for I never aimed to be your shining star.
I aim to be your eyes.
Now, present to ME yourself. Present to me something to go on, some word of advice, the most important thing you could ever tell me.

I combine obsession and fantasy with morbid things with sickened wings, and thus indulge in the Dark Wonderland. I combine stolen truths with philosophy and drug induced psychosis, and thus indulge in abstract art and delusions. I combine love and lust with death and depression, and thus combine the twisted fairy tales. I combine your mind with mine and thus indulge in synchronicty. I see the exit signs, but the road is blocked by shattered hope.

Do the math.

Don't breed two chihauhau's if you expect fucking Great Danes.
Don't steal my lines and hide them in your mind and think for a second they were meant for you alone.
Don't fucking ask me to improve when that is all I am constantly doing.
Don't tell me I'm arrogant whilst you wear that cocky smile and frown down upon me.
Don't accuse me of knowing nothing when you know nothing of me.
Don't expect great things from me, just accept the things I do.
And, don't you ever pretend for a second we are anything alike, when really, you're in a fucking five star hotel and I'm at a murderscene.

Why would I be at a murderscene? Why not? Why not indulge in the destruction of something beautiful? Is it not, in itself, a form of art? Isn't everything a form of art? Some things just aren't tasteful to certain individuals.

I myself like all the secrets and puzzles hidden amongst the work of Salvador Dali. To study a picture and continually find more things every few minutes and try and work out why the fuck they were put there...
I myself like all the truth and relativity in the words of Maynard Jaymes Keenan, and all the surpressed pervesion in myself that I find amongst the work of Todd Smith.
I myself like the captivating, neverending masterpeice with so many hidden clues and pictures in the works of things such as, Alice in Wonderland, The Da Vinci Code and The Divine Comedy.
I myself like the story structure and 'possibilities' of such things as The Butterfly Effect, The Jacket, Memento and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

When I grow up, I'm going to marry a rockstar. A rockstar with outrageous hair, violent mood swings, a drug addiction and perfectly cliche, supposodly symbolic tattoos.
Why? Because I never wanted anything else.
I'm sick of gentlemen, and lunatics, and punk rockers with an IQ of 0. And let's not forget the crackhead gangsters and the hypocritical artists.
As DIVINE as they all sound, really, they just can't be perfect, and I adore perfect.

I want nicotine and heroin, pure cocaine and LSD, Bourbon and cola with a sprinkling of Salvia and Divine Moments of Truth.

There's a perfect figure in the belly of my mind...

I've gone and made drugs my priority and it doesn't even hurt because I've figured out I'm useless and everything else but fucking up my body and mind.
So.
Now that I know what I am, I'll try and let go of all the things I want to be.
Because dreams are for faggots.
Giving up is the way to happiness.

I painted a white rabbit in our room, just under the blood-red lyrics.
I've done so much and grown so much but... as well as all that is, I'll just put my dreams on hold for everyone who thinks I'm taking up too much space.

And don't call me pathetic, at least I've come to terms with what I am, and am not just trying to prevent deforrestation in a desert.

This was not the intention of this piece, just to be aware, and it's not my intention to have it read by anyone other than me. If you choose to read it, then you have chosen to read every piece of bullshit I spew up, so don't then tell me I can do better, be better, when you have no fucking clue what I'm capable of.
If you choose to know me and stay around for the good things I produce, don't try to destroy me when I flip out, fairweather friend.

This post is to clarify the STRESS you put me under, the DRAMA OVERLOAD of the shit that goes on in my home, the continuous PRESSURE I get to be better, look better, feel better, do better.

I write to release stress. Some people listen to music, some cut themselves, some paint, some abuse drugs, some break peoples faces, some break glass windows, some kill themsleves.
Some like to mix it up a bit.

My writing is not for you.
You don't like it, then simply fuck off.

Anyways, this was not directed at anyone in particular, if anyone is still reading, I'm just having some trouble dealing with my mind right now. :/
It's time to call it quits on this 'peice of art'.

Keep in touch. <3

Look back once, and never again.

2009-10-11T23:30:00.002+08:00

Was just thinking about the glass house.
Haha, back in the good old days. I miss that shit sometimes.
I haven't been to the glasshouse in over half a year, I wonder if people still hang there.
But then, I'm not really in the city these days.
Shit.
The past couple of fucking years have been... Odd.
I never thought I'd see myself here.

Links, connections, consequences.

2009-10-11T21:31:00.003+08:00

I once had a dream of visiting the past. It was not a memory, but a possible past event.
It was interesting that I could recall the date of waking life when a dream character questioned where in the future I came from.
My exact thought pattern was, when asked, 'Oh, I know this, I remember looking at the computer screen last night at it was the fifteenth of September so, depending on what time it is now, it's probably the sixteenth', and so I told him that.
The dream character reminded me strongly of a man I'd been seeing at a younger age, a doctor of sorts, who had a great positive influence upon my life. In fact, he had changed me completely. I had a problem, one I refuse to discuss, but his method of fixing this problem was to visit the past and work forward.
I'd like to study further into this, because it's certainly significant. I rarely remember dreams, but all the linking pieces are intriguing.

There are many puzzles about. For instance, at Charlie's, we had a white rabbit. It was sitting upon a bench, and out of nowhere, it fell down, without any reason for it to do so, and was shattered.
White rabbits represent good luck.
I guessed there was some meaning to this, and delved deeper. It turns out, this night was the night when a certain girl had her heart broken when her partner slept with another girl. The other girl had been going through some significant trauma, and this male had taken it upon himself to help her, and it somehow turned into sex. Also, another girl had spent the eve waiting for her boyfriend to get there, and he never showed up because he'd recieved a call from his ex-girlfriend who as it turns out, was pregnant.
There's probably more, but I can't remember the day/night all that clearly and no one else seems as interested in this as I am, and so it's a little hard getting their memories of that day.
But, I'm assuming that metaphorically, a good luck charm broke for everyone who was connected to that house on that night.

I don't know, it may be nothing, but it's certainly interesting nonetheless.

I'm a puzzle solver, an observer and highly interested in human psychology. This, I know.

I'll continue being fascinated by the smallest of things, because I have a lot of spare time on my hands these days, and once you've studied several small but somehow significant events, you notice that they begin to link up and form a greater picture. A puzzle. Links, connections, consequences.

Ah, butterfly effect.

House Dialogue

2009-10-11T16:51:00.003+08:00

'Shelvit buddy!'

'Fucking asshole important'

'Sweet!'

'Aw nu bru!'

'Are you hallucinating aliens?'

'I am going to fucking hungry!'

'I want some fucking goon'

'Going on cigarette mission'

'Shit son'

'Fuckin a'

'Awwwww shiiiiiiiiiit'

'You shall not pass!'

'Doof party in the bush'

'Douche'

'Flap your wings'

'Fuckin' dickheaaaaad'

'Crack wut?'

'Hey maaaan'

'Can I've a cone/smoke?'

'Oh, for fucksake!'

'wut cunt/ wut buddy'

'I'll smash you'

'Bro'

'Gotta catch 'em all!'

'Sleeping pills'

'Delicious bread/cigarette/girl'

'Gandalf style or Smeagle style?'

'Triangles and circles'

Pretty much all I hear at home. >.<

Do you like guns?

2009-10-11T15:22:00.002+08:00

I had a gun to my head this gone Friday morn/eve.
T'was an event to behold, I very nearly shat brix, a delicate trail of rust-coloured rectangles so close to be coming apparent.
You may ask, 'why?'. I wouldn't doubt that you are even a little bit curious to know how this story goes. Well, it happened at aprox. 3:15am, or more so, this is where our story begins.
It had come to my attention that a few shady looking strangers had entered the premises of my home, purchasing a 50bag from our dealer, before claiming that the ganja be a'taken involuntarily. Or so to say, stolen ganja.
It was well-known that the accused 'theif' was in fact, not a theif at all and that this was some serious buuullllshit. No point-ze-finger games f' me.
However, despite our efforts to converse with the High Scorers of the blame game, we were given a simple warning to be headed. 'We shall return at 4o'clock sharp with our associates, armed and dangerous'.
I retreated to the living room once the commotion had died down, laying my old self down beside Sir Dicey and discussing prior events, and watching a damn good film, which, as it would turn out, was rudely interrupted by a shouting gentleman. 'Nine mm Glock!'
'wut buddy?' I say, arising to my feet. 'Dis gun shit, in my home? wut the fuck, bruzz', I say, taking the whole event very seriously. 'Let us be off to deal with these fuckin' dickheaaaads, my good sir', I announce to Sir Dicey.
And as if by magic, at the tick of a clock, it was I, standing amidst a battlefield of sorts, expecting all manner of internal organs to fly at me and collide with my face. They did not, however, but my eyes did indeed take in the gun/machete/metal bat weilding lunatics that surrounded me and my comrads.
A brave young female stands before the gun and RAAAAAAAAGES at the weilder, and just as the ol' chap notices me old self, t3h gun turns it's attention to me, indeed, for a brief 10 seconds, and I stare at it for just a little ol' while, before turning my back upon it.
'oh dear me, dat waz some silly tingz to do, Fertz', I mentally lecture myself. 'why has turned back on weaponzzz?'. But alive I stand, for no speeding bullet met my back, and feeling not dead, I continued inside the house, having nothing better to do but stand around hyperventilating.
Balaclava'd men pushed past me, uttering apologies and such, a particular sir delivering a certain message: Apologies, m'lady, retreat to the back of this there buildin', and ye shall be safe from harm.
'Gah', I exhale. 'Scurvy bidden rats'. I see da assailants enter my room by means of force, breaking down the door with one of dem dere metal batzorz. 'Awshi-!', me shouts, 'Dem Emily and Sir Jaymes be a'sleeping in dat room, cuz!'.
But unchanged the situation be, as brave young female who shall be honoured from this day forward is thrown against ze bed. 'Oh noes, awaking to gun in face is not my cup of tea', Emily would think, as she burries said face into Sir Jaymes.
'Empty dem dere pockets', gun-dude demands, and almost has his way but a courageous fool attempts to disarm him. Courageous fool earns a gun smack in da face, but owellz, for he completed his mission to distract the cursed gun-dude. The men exit the building, leaving our bustop shattered, a mess of shattered glass.
Dem dere brave young female who be named Krys calls the ol' pigs, calm and collected amidst dis chaotic scenez. Ten internetz to you, delicious little girl, you is braver thenz even me!
Owellz, owellz, so I was pussy and bailed wit the others at mention of cops a'coming, for they is far more scarier than any gun/machete/metal bat weilding lunatic dat dere smashed up my home wit their spite!
It occured to me, howevz, in the following morn, that gun was in fact... Pussy Replica. Apparently, gun replica is da shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit, but I disagree entirely.
I am in the belief that no faces were broken and that as traumatic as this epic movie-like night may have been, we shall all recover.
Sir Dicey asks 'Would you have knowledge of what is very homosexual about last night?'.
'What would that be?', me asks, wondering.
'That we did not in fact indulge in sexual intercourse'.
It's recently come to my attention that Sir Dicey is an utter douche.
cuz d4t wuz OBVIOUSLEE ze worstest ting dat happened on dat dr34dfulz eve.

Note to self.

2009-10-03T16:01:00.001+08:00

I'm not as bad as I could be, but I'm not as good as I should be.

We are the youth.

Make it up to you in the year 2012.

A taste of fiction.

2009-10-03T01:40:00.001+08:00

Pretty, purple blankets of flowers litter the ground.Ubiquitous, the carpet of color stretches on for miles. It's difficult to see too far into the distance, brilliant sunlight blinding, streaks of sun, like strands of hair, filling up the majority of my vision with intesnity. A smashing, vibrant flood of colour flows out from the pretty little yellow wildflowers that blossom here in the bossom of the ancient earth. The ground itself is dry, red, dusty, appearance like sandpaper but texture like flour. Lacking moisture, it hasn't felt the rain in days, maybe even weeks, yet the flowers still bloom, as if defying all laws of weather conditions. A tall, elegant tree springs from the centre of my surroundings, perfect green leaves making a beautiful shade, shadow casted across the ground, it's bark a deep mahogany, soft and pretty to the touch. The sky is a pale, powder blue, middle of the day, fluffy clouds bouncing in the air, forming shapes which morph as they speed by.
It's peaceful here, and I am completely alone, other than the occasional song a cheery and lovely coloured bird offers as it flies overhead, or flutters about in the branches of a nearby, aching and dancing tree. I can hear my own voice joining the songs of the feathered ones, though it is fractured and ugly beside the somewhat perfect chirps and chattering. A particular blue and black bird, a small and delicate one, catches my attention as it hops across the dirt, through the wonderful flowers, headed straight towards where I am placed. Or more, considering I do not know exactly where I am located, it's form gets larger in my hazy and blurred vision. I attempt to imitate its call, but my voice is so cracked and it doesn't fit well at all, ruining the scene of nature simply by being there in this human form.
The flowers are sweet, attracting all manner of flying insects, yellow and black striped bees perching on the petals of the red poppies, getting their fix of the opiate. Their buzzing is subtle, a gentle humming to the calm and distant midday. An evil looking barbed wire fence stretches around this nowhere, a closure for Gaia, damaged and lessened by adventurous kangaroos. None of these furred creatures are present now, but holes and dirt baths give them away as well as the ruined fence. They've burrowed beneath it's spikes, marring them and managing to escape completely unharmed, a special skill they've developed from having to break into mother Earth's different realms. A shimmering black crow hops by, letting out a caw, it's jet black feathers radiating with heat and shine, my eyes attracted to it's gleam as if I, too, were a bird. A bower bird collecting pretties for it's nest. The crow raises his yellow eyes to lock with mine for a brief moment, a moment somehow like a warning, before he calls manically to me again. He takes to the sky, having better things to do then waste his time with the pathetic human being that had intruded upon his day.
The dirt is hot, and so is the air, dust circling around my body in a spiral fashion. I rest in the shade the trees offer, yet my fragile body is still penetrated by the scorching heat, and I let out a sigh of exasperation. There is not a hint of civilization or human life for miles and miles. I am alone, here, with only the birds for company, and they don't seem to want mine. I'm an unwanted stranger to this land.
I rise to my aching feet, thorns burried deep within the bare flesh. I pull at them, removing what I can, but it is difficult to do so when the prickles are of minute size and my vision is blurred. I would have to leave them to come out on their own accord. The most important thing was to sort out my crumbling body and my dry mouth. Perhaps I am dehydrated. I feel weak, my body heavy and yearning to be back across the ground where I'd found it. I fight with my exhaustion, fighting to stay upright, and after a few moments, I take a few steps forward upon my now slowly but surely bleeding feet, through the hot, dry sand. I don't know which way I should be heading, there seems no direct route, no paths or tracks, everywhere looks to lead to nowhere. I walk straight forward though, for if I remain here, in this temperature, I could surely die.
'Where the hell am I?', I murmer, and the utterance of words makes me realize just how dry my throat is. It hurts to swallow, hurts to move my jaw in anyway. My tongue is heavy and swollen, uncomfortable in the pit of my mouth. 'Water', I murmur again, seeking that liquid. There must be some form of water around, or else, how would all the animals survive out here? It was dry season. Very dry season. I realized that I was not at all adjusted to the earth I was born of, not at all at home in nature, without instincts or knowledge of the wild. I was a human being, and I'd left nature behind, damaged her, and now she was taking her devious revenge upon my pathetic human body.
There's a bizarre structure in my vision now, in my hazy vision. Not too far ahead, perhaps if the Gods would smile upon me for one moment, I could make it. It appears to be a house, or more, a shed. Small and worn down, splintering wood, cracked like the earth I currently stood upon. A pale, faded grey in colour, unhealthy wood that could crumble at any given second. As I approach it, I wonder how safe it is to touch the door, to place my hand upon it's decaying surface. It's hanging from the hinges, the lock laying amongst the earth, rusted and useless. Nobody has been here for some time, I know, and the whole thing could fall on me if I were to enter, but it's the best plan I have. The only plan I have.
I reach for the old handle, pulling as gently as I can at it. It creaks violently, and the smell of oil and rotting wood fills my nostrils. A peice of the aging door falls apart in my blistered hands, jaggard wood chips locking themselves into my fingertips and drawing dark droplets of blood as I yank them out swiftly. I suck at my fingers, tasting dirt and bitter blood as I crawl into the worn down, dangerous building. It's cooler in here then it was outside, but the smell is awful, like something has crawled in here to die and it's flesh has been melting away for many weeks. As I lean faintly against the fragile walls of the tomb, I wonder, perhaps it is a good place to die. As good as any other. There are a few old, browning bottles laying about, many of them appearing to be filled with oil, the smell strong and horrible, adding to my rapidly increasing migraine. I pick up can, after bottle, after cup searching for a drinkable liquid. 'Water', I manage to moan desperatly again, hoping something would hear me and assist me in my search for survival. I know I am still utterly alone, but my hope has not yet completely dissipated.

Self -preservation.

2009-10-02T23:59:00.002+08:00

"How are you feeling today?"

"Interesting".

"Interesting, how?"

"Well, the way my mind is working at this moment is... getting me very intrigued. When this happens, I get too distracted by myself to pay much attention to the outside world".

"Living in your own world, huh?"

"Yes, I'm sure things aren't at all how I think they are".

"They are to you though".

"Yes".

"So, what have you been doing with yourself?"

"Mmm... Nothing, and everything".

"I'm sorry, but could you be a little more exact with your answers?"

"Well, aren't you meant to be figuring me out?"

"Yes, I am, but you're meant to be helping me".

"And how do I do that?"

"By making my job as easy as possible. Tell me as much as you can, it helps me to gather the information I need, and helps you get things of your chest".

"Well, I guess. But... It's just..."

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure I can trust you".

"Believe me, I don't trust you either. You are a sociopathic criminal with a blood-thirst and an LSD corrupted mind..."

"Hah. And you're some perfect, well paid, goodie fucking two-shoes analysing me and thinking you can fix me by giving me a fucking diagnonsense".

"Yes. That could very well be the case. We don't even have to be friends, because I don't like you a whole lot, and I know you are staring at my neck with thoughts of tearing my throat out".

"How did you know that, then?"

"Because I understand psychology. I have been seeing you for several months now, I should have a basic understanding".

"I suppose".

"I also know you're feeling a little ashamed, like you've already said too much because I know too much. You forget that silence is an answer as well. Fear, guilt, anxiety, nervousness... To name a few things you're probably feeling right now".

"Uh huh. Keep going, you seem to be doing well, Mr. fucking fantastic".

"You're getting angry now because you don't want me in your head. You know I'm reading you like a book it makes you fearful that you can't hide a thing".

"I always thought my mind was a safe place".

"Well it is, generally. It's a safe place to hide from everything bar yourself".

"Yes. So here we are. Do you even want to be here?"

"No, but I have to be. You fucked up. I think you should put down the gun".

"Why? You're right, I'm a fuck up. Why not just... End my life?"

"Because that would be stupid. You'd be letting them all win".

"Right. You're right".

"I know I am. So put it down".

"Fine. But only because I know you secretly want me to kill myself".

"You're goling to stay alive out of spite? Tough guy".

"Don't anger me. Or I will do it, and that means you die too, buddy".

"Fine, fine. I'll leave you alone for now. I'll be back with your medication".

"Fuck you".

"I love you too".

Monsters.

2009-10-02T23:51:00.002+08:00

I was hanging upside down from the overpass

Waiting to discover something about the world

I couldn't get with the program

And I couldn't listen to them

It was like trying to think in reverse

And I don't want to slide into apathy

And I don't want to die in captivity

But these monsters follow me around

Hunting me down, trying to wipe me out

Wipe me out

I was hiding away under water

Waiting for distance and buying some time

Trying to be two hundred thousand years younger

So I could excuse myself from humankind

'Cause I don't want to be a container

Or a bastard with a ten page disclaimer

But these monsters spin me around

Get me down, just try and shut me out

Shut me out

Hold it in your head

Believe and make believe and make believe

I was hiding away under water

Waiting for distance, waiting for time

And I don't want to slide into apathy

And I don't want to live in captivity

"Poor rats", we human rodents chuckle.

2009-10-02T22:02:00.003+08:00

You all reflect eachother so much, and lack in personality.
It's like you're yelling at a mirror whilst masturbating.
Your aim is either to look all tough by being a cunt to anyone, or to get laid via the internetz.
Excuse me, but this is a little pathetic.
It's so damn hard being perfect in such a parasitic world!

The girl who cried Wolf.

2009-10-02T21:32:00.002+08:00

There's a boy with eyes like ice. Sorrow-filled and yearning, he has a broken heart. He writes down his feelings and wishes for a second you could feel his pain, just so he wouldn't have to go it alone. He hates to see you cry, because it shows you're just as weak as him and he will hate you for it, because he hates himself. He can take a punch, and throw one, and he has no fear of fists. He's got a goonbag and a cigarette and messy curls on his head. He's so angry, and sad and sometimes you can open up to him because he's not afraid of emotions.

There's a demon with electric blue hair, tall and lanky, with spikes on his face. He's full of knowledge and insanity, he's so very intense. He likes to carry his victims in his arms, he likes to recite from books and find meaning in every image, every number, every letter of every word. He's so very fucked up and only the strongest of men can deal with him. The weak get mad and hurt him, the strong stand by his side. He's standing tall with a bag full of mushrooms and feeding his face with them. He believes he is the devil incarnated. He believes you can take anything, that he can't hurt you because he has so much faith in you.

There's a gentleman with eyes so bright. He has no flaws visible to the human eye, skin warm and smooth and covered in ink. He understands music and mathematics and even literature, and he can use his tongue. He treats you like a lady, whilst pouring red wine down your throat and discussing misscarriages and licking his lips. He's smoking a cigarette as he urinates on a dead celebrity's grave, silly females worshiping him because they know his body was made of stars and angel feathers.

There's a girl with a rat's tail crossing the street to meet the boy, the demon and the gentleman. There are hearts on her cheeks and intrigue in her eyes. She's wearing heels and a pinstripe vest, a scarf attached to her pants that sit evenly upon her prominent hip bones. She's in tears if joy as teh day goes perfectly to plan, embracing the boy, the demon and the gentleman and almost refusin to let go. She's blowing smoke in your face as she discusses music, pschology, drugs and Wonderland. She's got a pretty elf girl in her hand, a pretty elf girl she calls her girlfriend. By the end of the night, she's holding a gentlemans hand whilst he carries her heart to bed. What a wonderful way to end a perfect day.

Death Fractal v.1

2009-09-28T20:34:00.002+08:00

You're standing under a tree. It's leaves are a brilliant green, drops of water hanging from it, and silken, fractal webs delicatly woven between the limbs of the peaceful being. A golden arachnid takes her place in the center, eight legs all stretched out in a symmetrical fashion, patiently waiting for some adventurous little creature to find it's way into her trap. Her abdomen is spotted black, eight dots, eight legs, eight ever-watchful eyes.

The sun is bright, shining directly into your bleeding eyes. There is glass stuck between the lids, cutting at your eyes as the blood runs down your face and you tear at it in frustration. This is terribly uncomfortable for you, I know.

There's a scent in the air, soft and beautiful, sweet, aromatic. Flowers, red and golden, orange and silver, purple, blue, white. Acres and acres of wildflowers. You collapse amongst them, letting out a pained groan as the glass continues to dig, dig, dig, making it's way deeper into your eye sockets. This is painful for you, I know.

Snap! The golden arachnid has moved. She's wrapping a gift, a paralyzed gift up in shining silk, strong as any another string. The fly twitches pathetically, bitten and sticky, unable to move as it is trapped, wrapped. You wonder if the creature is claustraphobic and hope not for it's sake.

The puncture wound in your side is covered in flies. It's as if the spider is doing a favour for you, as you devours one of your enemies. You lay bleeding and wounded, fingernails taking off layers of skin, the pieces of you becoming trapped, folds of skin under nails. How pretty.

The sun blazes, your burnt skin curling and peeling to reveal a fresh layer. 'Water', you murmur to the spider, but she answers none, either unhearing or uncaring, probably both.

As your eyes glaze over, the last thing you see is the beedy eyes of the spider locked on yours, all eight everwatchful eyes burning into yours. 'You did this', you mutter, and a thought crosses your mind.

'Silly fly'.

Earthdance 09

2009-09-28T19:48:00.003+08:00

Wake up. No. You don't. Not yet.

Cigarettes are bad. Joint after joint we roll, passing cops, praying to imaginary Gods that they don't catch the scent of it as they check our driver for alcohol. I'm fucking high as a kite, but I can't tell that, I just know I should be. It seems I've abused all substances to the point where, I can't get high, can't get drunk, can't trip bawlz anymore. Solution? Eat more drugs.
I don't like this not being able to smoke cigarettes in the fucking car idea at all. That's okay, we pump her full of liquids. She'll have to take a piss break soon, then we can have a cigarette. Also, whenever we get pulled over by the pigs, we light a cigarette and say "Yeah, we were just trying to hide the scent of the weed, man ;D".

We finally arrive at the doof.

It's dark by now. We struggle with the tent and the packed-as-all-fuck car for several decutes, before missioning it to the D-floor, looking out for the rest of our crew along the way. We find the van and they welcome us to the doof.

A few hours in and it's time to munch some acid.

Rasta feeds me a Pink Panther, but not ten minutes into the whole, it being on my tongue, he gets this douchebag idea to start slapping me on the back and it flies out of my mouth, to become lost amongst the Earth. It's okay, though. He insists he wants me to have a good time and feeds me more. :D

All the while, he's forcing himself upon a girl who's completely off-chops and can't decide if she wants her cunt penetrated or not.

So, Rasta and I are patrolling the doof, being generally intense characters, moving with confidence, speed and agility, our energy being LOUD. We are on the hunt for some prey. For Rasta is of course, Dracula. We come across four young females and lead them back to our tent, where Rasta ends up scaring the fuck out of three of them. They are eager to leave, and he's tripping bawlz. One of them stays for a while, she's lovely, thinks his stories are interesting and shows no fear.

I spend some time with Emily and her lovely little Scottish pet, then pass out in the tent later on, between Rasta and Phoenix, warm and snug and awake to a beautiful face.

Bobbie and I, after she found me in the morning, decide to go on a little adventure up the mountain side with a couple of guys who thought it was a fine plan. We journeyed upwards, and took interest in the purple blanket of flowers, and the enchanted tree standing and swaying amongst a garden of yellow. Before we journey onwards, one of the guys squirts a few drops into our mouths. :D

The sand is hot, and red, and thorns burrow into the bare flesh of our feet. We exit the feild of purple and head towards a welcoming tent, to meet some lovely people who roll us a joint and give us an assortment of drinks, chai tea, beer, goon and the sort.

By now, Bobbie and I are Tripping Bawlz, Man! and are on quite a similar mind-level. We're both eager to get up and head back to the other side of the rock, since everyone and everything is situated on that side. Even though the place we were at and the people there were grande enough... It was time to leave, and we stumbled off, off-chops, with no idea where the fuck we were OR where the fuck we were going.

Eventually we stumbled upon the wrong group of people who did not enjoy the fact we were under the influence of illicit substances and I fucked off out of that area as soon as possible, Bobbie close behind with a very concerned/angry/suspicious female at her side. We sat in the tent, trying to make sense of something, anything.

We then went to find food, feasting upon chips and other unhealthy delicious treats. The night seemed quieter, perhaps, and we wandered back and forth from dance floor, to van, to log, to car, to tent... Until I once more went to snuggle in the warm blankets of the tent, and was joined later by Bobbie who snuggled up beside me. :D

Morning came, and I missioned for a morning cigarette, enjoying it upon a log. I encounted a few people I knew and travelled with them for a short time before I decided it was time to search for some of my crew, coming across Bobbie once more, getting our goon on on the top of the rock, and spending the rest of the morning drinking a scrumptious jam-mushroom-chai tea. I had a very comfortable morning trip, laying in the van and having people deliver artwork to my legs and arms until I was painted to perfection, decorated in striped of brilliant colour.

I relaxed in the back of the van, warm and snug in the sunlight, paint drying and cracking on my skin. As the sun began to set, we figured we weren't going to head home 'til Monday morning, and I ended up sleeping right on through 'til dawn, a spit-fire blanket as my best friend. We packed up the tents, teh van, the car in the morning and began the trip back home.

The van encountered a lack-of-fuel just on the outskirts of Trayning, and we rolled into town, a friendly guy helping us out with some deisel as we muched on Soy burgers. We continued the mission.

The van arrived home before anyone else. We ran in to share our individual tales with our housemates who didn't attend Earthdance 09, whilst waiting for our fellow doofers to get back. Spent the early afternoon drinking goon and chillin' with Emily and Jaymes and such at home. ^.^

Experience was what you wanted. T'is what you got.

The watchtower.

2009-09-20T19:14:00.002+08:00

When you understand how somebody works, you have complete control of them. You know what will make them flinch, ache, moan, lie, deny, smile, be comforted, lust, and yearn. You have access to every single one of their thoughts, and little do they know. There you sit, comforting them over something you know they made up. They want your sympathy, or some kind of attention from someone. You nod your head and listen, offer advice and a reassuring hug, even though you know they're full of shit. Why fuck up the power you have by admitting to your little game? You say things like 'it's okay', 'it'll all work out', 'hold on, I have faith in you' and 'things will get better, they have to', but you manipulate these cliche phrases so it doesn't seem like you're reciting from a book. You're gathering more information. They can't look you in the eye, and you already know they are telling tales. But you don't say 'you're full of shit, you're upset over the fact you're still single and unwanted, so you tell me this story because you think I don't know who you are. You think telling me about your fictional boyfriend and his fictional fists will make me want to console you and make you feel better, you think it'll make me feel sorry for you and spend more time with you. You saw the way MY girlfriend treats me, and you envy all the attention I get, and how everyone else seems to be happier than you, so you decide to fool us all, and you got them, yeah, those cunts are pretty fucking fooled. Oh, poor you. Not me, I'll just pretend to be your friend 'til I get what I want from you, then you're on your own, bitch'. No, you don't say it, but that's what you're thinking while you're rubbing her back and telling her she's still got you. If only they knew just how deep you've travelled into their dark little minds. If only they knew you knew just how fucked up they really were, that they are fucking fake. Of course, so are you, but at least you're intelligent enough. We all use people, conciously or not, but it's people like us, little observer, that know how to get exactly what we want from everyone, simply by figuring them out. You can't go wrong. Of course, you shouldn't trust anything I've just said, little observer, because I'm just like you. What I say and what I think are completely different things. You already know this though. I know you do, because I know you. Everytime you look at someone, you're looking through, into their mind. Aren't you fucking clever, fucking fantastic. You will never get a look at me, little observer, so don't bother, I have no use for you. You're too observant, I couldn't possibly manipulate, use and abuse you. My deceit will go to waste. But then, why would I tell you anything?

Take me to Wonderland.

2009-09-08T23:01:00.013+08:00

I want to be your doll.

Once upon a time, you used to carry me around, keep me warm at night, play with me, love me. I belonged to you, and I felt protected.

Take me to wonderland, because I'm the girl who knows a lot about everything but can't make sense of anything. Maybe in a realm where nothing is supposed to make sense, in fact, it is supposed to be nonsense... I would be at peace with it.

Bring me eccentric characters and good luck charms.

Take me to the datura tea party and sing me a lullaby.

Skip the twins, I've had enough of stupid, quarrelsome boys.

Where is my wise and disturbing Cheshire Cat?

Where is my Mad Hatter?

My White Knight in Shining armour?

Hearts and cards, tea and gentlemen, insanity and logic BEFUDDLE a cunt so that whilst I'm trippin' balls I AM the Cheshire Cat for six hours.

They're painting me a white rabbit at the top of the rabbit hole. Down we go.

Let me be your Alice.

I want to meet a rather violent and slightly insane gentleman who will make me know I am his, his possession. I want to be your doll. I want someone to show me power, control and protection.

Clocks and teacups... Mirrors and chess pieces... Rabbits and roses.

LSD has become too real. It won't take me to Wonderland anymore. All it will do now is try and break The Wall.

I want a world where people talk funny. Where they say 'm'lady' and 'delightful' and 'top of the morning t'ya' and 'how do you do, good sir?'.

Top hats and vests, corsets and laces, ties and pinifolds.

Why are these urges so frustrating? Wonderland and The OtherRealms...So frustrating because they are completely unessecary. I'M ALWAYS GOING TO BE STUCK HERE. AND WHEN I DIE, I'M NOT GOING SOME PLACE BETTER. I'M FUCKED. THERE IS NO BETTER PLACE, NO CONCIOUSNESS FOR ME TO ACHIEVE, NO FUCKING EXIT.

Death may be another episode on Earth. Death may be a time to feed maggots. Death will not be fancy hats and crazy gentlemen... What the fuck am I trying to achieve here?

I don't want to be human.

I don't want to exist in this body, this world.

But I do want to exist.

Just not here, like this.

Same voices prt. 2

2009-09-03T16:10:00.002+08:00

"Why are you dressed like someone out of the 17th century?", he asks, first thing he's said to me all night. I hope it will be the last, I'm much too high to deal with this shit. After spending an hour smoking weed in a little cellar, air-tight, continually smoking by just breathing... Lam was the last person I wanted to see.
I've been dating Kirsty for two weeks now. It doesn't feel like a relationship. See, the both of us have indulged in sexual activities with almost everyone bar eachother. She cuddles up to Lee at night, whilst I make myself at home in Michael's bed. Our shared words are limited, and I believe the attraction is dying. Already? The attraction that lead to me asking her to be my girlfriend, and the attraction that lead to her saying 'yes' and giggling as she kissed my lips, dead already?
It doesn't help that the both of us are chasing after someone else, anyway.
I find myself in awkward situations like these all the time, like the other night when Michael left the room and I wanted to put on fresh underwear and slipped a pair off and was just about to get into the second paor when in he came, jumped into the bed and put his arm around me. I spent the next ten minutes trying to pretend I wasn't trying to put on that pair of underwear. I don't know if this one and the Kirsty situation is at all the same, but it's still amusing to me.
So, I was drunk in the shed, and Adrian is giving me lessons on words and numbers. I'm no good at Maths, but somehow I manage to do Z to the power of Z + Z to the power of 6 + C to the power of 3. Amongst other equations, and one of them answers with 21122012.

Oyeah...

2009-08-26T20:02:00.003+08:00

Screaming Jets, The Doors, Weezer, Cypress Hill, Shpongle, Insane Clown Posse, Astrix, Kottonmouth Kings, Sugar Ray, Mr. Bungle, Dog Fashion Disco, Sabrepulse, Polkadot Cadaver, Tool, Mindless Self Indulgence, Emilie Autumn, Mew, Meshuggah, Blondie, Rancid, Dead Kennedy's, Billy Joel, MGMT, Hallucinogen, Skinny Puppy, Angelspit, Josh Pyke, Collin Hay, Amy Winehouse, Diablo, From Autumn To Ashes, Otep, System Of a Down, Orgy..... My music taste is way cooler than yours. ^.^

Anyways, about 'Same voices'. All characters are based on people I know irl, I just changed the sames slightly, and all situations, conversations, locations are real events, just exaggerated a bit. ;D

Sweet. So, I'm going to write some more later, just got distracted by wicked tunes and weedz. >.>

I'm really happy.

Gone git hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigggggh.

Part 1... 'Same voices'. Going to do shit, so post more later. ;D

2009-08-26T16:22:00.003+08:00

This is a shed, painted with my ideas. Thick haze, where's the ganja at? Some lovemaking couple in the corner, piles of material, clothes, sheets, blankets. The words leap from the walls and that makes sense, pictures of fractal patterns making your eyes swim. How fine, that we can just lay here for days and days, smokin' of the earth and fucking eachother furiously.
It gets a little dramatic sometimes, but a little excitment can be just what the place needs, even when we don't like the current fucktonne of shit.
I've got her close against me, pretty hips, pretty skin, pretty breasts, pretty face. I've got her just where I want her, using her to my advantage, manipulating her delicate form to grind just as I like it. My little doll, with the dark hair and drawn-on eyebrows, skin so soft, so white, ivory. I'm watching her body move, touching and kissing in all the right places, break her legs. He's coming 'round from the other side, she's slamming her back in to him as we make her moan...
Her name is Kirsty. Kirsty is my bitch. She's so pretty, little dark haired elf with the petite structure, you know, the ones that look hot in ripped jeans. She's pierced in places... And all she wants is to be pressed up against my body.
The guy's name is Lee. His face is painted red and black today, perfectly matching to the fierce expression he weilds. His face is like a painting, such character... You can see all the techniques and textures used to mold him. He's an artist, and all his memories are on film. His smooth, warm hands run over my skin, I squeeze his hand tight and scream.
Rick hands the bong to me. I pull myself away from the mangled lust-pit for a moment to enjoy my cone. I pass the bong and turn to see our moment has ended, and I begin searching for my clothing because I want to make tea and it's cold outside.

Wonderful fear.

2009-08-09T21:54:00.002+08:00

After roaming the streets by streetlight with two other young trippers, it was time to retire to the place where fun times and awesome company await. Collecting a delicious crew, we boarded the bus to the wonderful house... I'd just been you know, considering there were some wonderful things in life, like the drug I was currently under the influence of, ... I had to witness something I did not want to see. The ugly side of the drug.
Someone I love terribly and hate passionatly stuck in some fucked up loop four days after the drug had expired... I started crying, I don't really know why, but man, that felt realzzz good. Shedding some tears, yessir. Was in need of that. And so, you know, there's a crying female, so this attracts attention and all these beautiful people are trying to comfort me and I'm trying to explain why I'm crying, and every time I started to calm the fuck down HE would come out again rambling about triangles and binary and mirrors and all this shit... And I'd break down again.
This continued until this one guy, some guy who's company I take for granted... But this WONDERFUL guy and me made and effort to understand what HE was talking about and so finally I was calm and could go inside, acid headache and fucked up nausea alongside.
The headache increased when I found that the shit HE was talking about was no longer upsetting but fucking annoying. At one point, he even attempted to start a fight with that wonderful guy and olawd, I shat brix.

But, anyways, epic tiemz. It was just so scarey seeing that shit while I was tripping away, and having a beautiful BEING trip beforehand... Goddamn kids and their damn drugs. >.>

Owell, I found some truley beautiful people and I wonder why I've been wasting my time with fuckheads for the past half year when I could've been getting to know these guys better. They prove there really IS some beauty in this world. :D

I'm going to stay sober for a while. Alcohol is dirty, I think, so I'll stop drinking easily. And other than that, there's only acid in the way, which, I'll admit.... scared me. Also, everytime I take it I just go straight back to that lovely BEING contentness... I've already found that. I'm good. Now, let me improve my sober state of mind. :D

Going to become such a lovely person, just wait and see.

Appreciate the people in your lives more, they're really something. They're really such a special bunch of people that are so wonderful... I couldn't hope for better company on this journey.

When I say 'I love you', I mean it.

Bobbie.

2009-08-07T09:59:00.002+08:00

Bobbie is a douchebag.
Bobbie is made of fail and AIDS.
Bobbie is hell shit.
Bobbie is a jesusfuck niggerjew.
Bobbie has a lolface.
Bobbie is hated for life.
Bobbie lost the game.

And,

Bobbie is loved by me bulk.

Kbyenao.

xx

I PUT IT ON THE INTERNETZ COZ IT NEEDED TO BE THERE.

Symmetry

2009-08-06T23:55:00.001+08:00

I'm caught in the symmetry of your mind
But I'm not happier than you
Did I really see you or was it a dream?
Dreaming that it was seamless, not a trace of wrong
Wrong words that we have spoken
Little did we know.
No bigotry, No tears shed
Oh if only you'd try to be polite
thinking you were right
only to find that you're unkind
But ironically you will always be belle of the ball at least to me
I'm caught in the symmetry of your mind
But I'm not happier than you
But my words are frail not audible
They do not even convince me
Perhaps they are untrue
Truly with you the worst is always true
I gave you all the benefits of all the doubts
I had never hoped to be as benign as me
Funny how you always get through
But ironically you will always be belle of the ball at least to me

But I know.

2009-08-06T23:14:00.003+08:00

I see Hell in your eyes.

How does it feel when your heart grows cold?

But I'm quite sure that you'll tell me, just how I should feel today.

Oh, but I know.

I am a fucking wizard and you are but a lamb.

Fool.

You are not worthy of so much attention, even if the attention directed is only your own.

Just wanted to let you know, I know you plan to bring me down. Paranoid bitch is a fucking Wizard, and I do know! But fuck man, what drugs were you on when you thought of that plan? Nothing I'd take, it's pure suicide!

You're going down with me.

I see Hell in your eyes.

When this song is perfection... Dude, it's like, angry sex coming out of the speakers!

I... Hate... You.

If only it were that easy, it would be so much easier... Yeah, nonsensical statement. I don't know why I thouht that would make sense...

I've slept so long without you

It's tearing me apart too

How did it get so far?

Playing games with this old heart

I've killed a million petty souls

But I couldn't kill you

I've slept so long without you

For the doves.

2009-08-05T11:28:00.002+08:00

I promised them I'd draw them, but really, I can't seem to draw anything that I don't ruin with swirls and mesh. Some would call that art, but I disagree. It is nothing but a few mangled patterns pretending to be art. They're cheating. I breed cheatart.
It can look pretty to you, inspire you and feed you emotions just by looking at it, but it is fooling you. I breed cheatart. It's not an image you should waste your time with, my talent does not lay on a canvas.

So, I considered writing of them, because I guess they deserved something, so I wouldn't have entirely broken a promise. I dislike doing that so. But then I realized, what can I say about a few pretty doves grazing in the sun beneath an enchanting tree? Not all too much, and why would I bother? It's hardly original and hardly important. I'm forgetting what is important everytime I stray from the path, i.e getting distracted by a few attractive birds.

I've come to the conclusion I look funny. People won't stop staring. It's as if I have done something wrong and they all know. Or like they're all getting ready to leap at me and tear out my throat. Like that movie, Dark Corners, where the character 'Karen' is on the bus, with the demon-people who won't stop staring. A world where you are entirely alone because you can not trust a single person and no one believes your tale. It's horrifying.

Even worse when you don't know your own tale. What happened before, and where do I go from here? It's so hard to get a message across when you completely forgot what the hell it is. But you are the messenger and your only purpose is to deliver that message, then get the hell out of there before you get shot. You're not doing your job, son.

It's okay though, because you should have enough time. I plan on leaving fairly soon, but I can't until this stupid tugging fucks off and finds someone else to disturb. Why me? I am incompetent for this job. I can't understand anything. Why are there people walking across the road? What kind of relationship do I have going on with these people? Do I have headache, or am I just making one up because I miss them? Why is that building that colour?

And I know it may seem absurd, but it all goes by and I take no action because I'm not really there. It's just some movie I'm watching. "What, are you speaking to me? How? You're in the screen! Wait, you're not? So I'm a part of this film? Did I just ruin it? Where's the guy calling 'cut'? Oh, wait, you're a part of real life! Right? Aren't you? Why are you looking at me like that? It's a simple question."

Constantly trying so hard to understand something, anything at all. Maybe that's why I like simple things. A ring, a glowstick, a handful of carkeys... Yes, I am naming a selection of my collection from my very first time on acid. Currently, I'm enjoying the company a little staff gives, twirling it and passing it from hand to hand. I'm no good at it, but damn, it is fascinating. I can focus my entire self upon it and block everything else out and I don't have to try and understand everyone and everything. I just have to block it all out.

I'm not too aware of what I am writing or for what purpose, I just had the urge, and I think it looks pretty, the way the paragraphs are split, all of a similar length, and words look so beautiful just leaking out of nowhere on to something. I could type for hours, about nothing, but I know it isn't important. I know it's nothing you can read and learn from, if I'm even capable of teaching anyone anything, and I know it's not much to correct and guide on. I know it is nothing, but damn has it felt sure like something.

I guess in times like these, when everything I ever imagined in my childhood is coming to life, when all the dreams of Time are emerging from the dark and entering the light... I need to find a way to express it. And I don't even remember anything I wrote above, but maybe I let something slip that will help you understand, help somebody get the fucking message I have been trying to send out. It is important, whether I am or not, and for fuck's sake, I need to remember what the hell it is I'm supposed to say!

But, I'm getting angry now and I've been trying to 'cut down' on angry rants. So I take that as a time to stop writing, though I really don't want to... It looks so fucking pretty. But I will, and I'll go smoke a delcious cigarette on a park bench and watch doves... And I'll think of what to do for them.

Newest Gameshow. 4

2009-07-31T14:39:00.003+08:00

What is this, you ask? I'm terribly sorry, I thought I was on stage? Isn't this the set for... Oh nevermind, nevermind, I'm havin difficulties adjusting to the situation. I thought somewhere, in a book, or a t.v series, maybe a movie, it was illegal to do this? Or at least very bad, and we'll be discredited for our behaviour?
"You're not wrong, the t.v show you speak of is life".
Oh, that'd be it. Stupid, stupid me. Why must I continue to do this? Get it all mixed up... It's not fair, AND LOOK OUT, I HAVE SWINE FLU!
"You're not allowed to sleep, keep drinking t3h g00nz".
But I simply can not! You see, while under the influence of influenza I find it difficult to stand upon my own two feet! It makes a fool of man, really. So, of course, I must rest.
"That is a valid reason, not an excuse, I shall have none of eet".
Oh must you hold me in the air like so? It's terribly -oh my- harsh on the stomach. OH MY. Wonderful, fantastic, a bed at last, soft and warm and --- ooooh!
"Mind if I join ye?"
Well... Cigarette?
"You have an amazing body, HOLD EET, HOLD EET! Maybe we shoulda waited 'til they left..."
It isn't fair... And OH LAWD YOU HAVE TEH SWINE FLU! I'm terribly sorry :3.
"T'was worth it, indeed. Any tea?"
No, sir, no tea. Just that kiss goodbye, thanking you.

Placebo :D

2009-07-31T14:14:00.003+08:00

They're pickin' up pieces of me,
While they're pickin' up pieces of you.
In a bag you will be, before the day is over.
Were you looking for somewhere to be.
Or looking for someone to do.
Stupid me, to believe that I could trust in stupid you.
And on the tip of my tongue,
Were, words that came out all wrong.
'Cause they were drowned in Southern Comfort,
Left to dry-out in the Sun,
The noon-day Sun.

Don't leave me here, to pass through time,
Without a map, or road sign.
Don't leave me here, my guiding light,
'Cause I,
I,
wouldn't know where to begin.
I asked the Kings of Medicine,
But it seems that they've lost their powers.
Now all I'm left with is the hours.

BE.

2009-07-20T21:31:00.002+08:00

I found something precious, something everlasting, eternal, forever.
You know, if only I could reach that... MOMENT in sober world... I would be whole.
Tripping bawlz in a bathroom, one guy complaining that he was bored, the other talking about what we should do tomorrow, and a girl whining about the cold... And I'm going 'Forget tomorrow, just BE. In this moment".
I'm not sure how to describe it, but I belonged to the way things were. I was without need or want, I was barely alive but... So... Perfect. It was simply... ALL THAT IS.

Why fuss and complain, why constantly ache and shift, bitch and whine? We can be whole, so happy, just in the moment, content with everything. The past does not exist, nor does the future, there is simply that moment and everything that it is... Just melting into the isness. Melting into the moment.

Why, can I only achieve this beautiful thing under the influence of psychedelic drugs?

I suggest next time you nom acid, you close your eyes, forget about the situation... No distractions. You'll find you do not NEED anything, you do not WANT anything... You just are, and it is perfect, the most whole and happy you will ever be...

I found something precious...
I had to leave it, after staring at grass and trees and lights and sky... All so BEAUTIFUL. Perfect, everything... NOBODY appreciated it as I did. I had to leave it, to find the world ugly and torn, more horrible than I had ever seen it before and I exhaled my moment.

I found something precious, and I'm afraid I've packed it away again... I want to go back, and stay there, want it to last. God fucking dammit, I just want to be!

I nearly poofed out of existance, I mean, for sure. But they kept distracting me, because they are humans. And, you know the thing aout humans? So unsatisfied. CONSTANTLY looking for something or someone to make them happy. SO UNSATISFIED. If they hadn't kept touching me and talking to me, I'd... have... made it... At last.

So close. I want to go back to my moment.

:D

2009-07-14T01:01:00.002+08:00

Lol. Just scanned through old posts. And I think... WOW. I WAS SUUUUUUUCH A FAGGOT!

Lololololol.

Gimme a couple of months and I'll be saying that same thing. :D Progress is win, I think.

K, going to go on a little journey now.

Just thought I'd post this so I can lol at this post in a few months tiem. K. Bai nao.

>=[

2009-07-13T23:45:00.002+08:00

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGEEEEEEEEEE.

My pretty little fucker, NOT YOURS.

Grrrrrrrrrrr.

I wanna deliver a pretty chainsaw blow to the cranium!!!

MINE, ye hear? YE HEAR?

I hope you do.

This is srs bsns.

You made me very, very ANGRY.

What's good?

2009-07-13T03:20:00.001+08:00

Skyfire Ace - Sabrepulse - Chipbreak Wars.

Yes. This is.

From nao on, the world shall be composed of black metal, industrial, indie/alternative, psy-trance, hardstyle, nintendocore/chipbreak, prog. and circus metal and nothing but. K.

To make the world of music a better place. :D

Listen to Skyfire Ace. It shall blow yer mind, dardz.

Little soldier.

2009-07-13T00:43:00.003+08:00

Do you remember... anything?

The alley way, 4.oo in the fucking morning, little soldier... You told me everything.

Why, have you gone and done this to yourself?

The alley way, and we were sipping tea, and you smiled and said you'd never change.

Now it's 1.oo in the fucking morning and I just spent an hour staring into your fucking empty face.

What the fuck are you?

You're gone now, because I told you I missed you, little soldier...

I'll eat your babies, bro.

Perfectly Flawed.

2009-07-12T22:22:00.002+08:00

(8)If you do this you'll never have a chance to try again.

You're perfectly flawed.

You're perfectly incomplete.

Like cracks in the glass

And faded photographs.

A disguise of self-deception

Hides my secrets perfectly.

I'm rejecting my reflection'

Cause I hate the way it judges me.

Don't you do it - you're not even you yet.

Don't you do it - you're not even you yet. (8)

(l) Otep (l)

Dearest, you.

2009-07-12T22:05:00.002+08:00

Back in the day...

Nostalgia eats at your soul.

Here, now, in the build-up of nothing. With no one here to kill, no one here to fuck. The point of no return.

Don't fall down, little soldier. Remember forever what we had, back in the day, in our little rose garden. Don't give up, little soldier. Someone out there is watching you intently, waiting for you to crack. Waiting for you to lose the game. (lol, sorry).

Here, now, in this burning building... Watch the walls cave in, liquid fire composing this disaster... No one left to crash and burn. No return.

But save the kitten, little soldier. It will only take a moment of your time. To try and understand the mess I created here, now, in the burning building. Take your time, and think of the serpent, think of Exitland, think of the spider dance, think of ward 23, the stars, the cups of tea...

Think back, back in the day.

I am creating an entire universe, a new galaxy to replace this burning building. So don't worry, I'm still sorry, but it must come down.

'The feeling' is ever near. I am creating an entire fucking galaxy inside my mind, let me project it. Let me deliver it to you, little soldier. It's all I ever wanted.

I know you're feeling hollow, but I still love you. Sometimes you have to let go of things when you care...

I still see the scenario... I still see us on mountain tops, hand in hand, reaching for the stars as the sky falls down.

Never forget it, little soldier, you are my missing piece and I won't leave you behind.

Come back to me when you're good and ready.

Sincerely, Miss Conflicted.

Alice in Exitland.

2009-07-11T03:27:00.002+08:00

Join the stars?! Oh, would I ever!

Will you not come dance with us?

Maybe if I reach a little higher, tiptoes, that's right, AM I DOING IT RIGHT!?

You never seem to change.

You mournful soul, you slipped out of the gateway world... This world is not for us, is it?

No, it is not, now tilt your head, and look up!

Mmmm, I can feel the melody running through me, it's sooooo nice!

Well now, welcome the silence. We're only stopping by for a cup of tea. Tick, tick, tick, tock.

Take me with you, won't you? Don't leave me here... Take me with you, m'dear.

You've never really been here at all, m'love.

Oh, but any old sould could've told us that!

My little Alice.

Oh, you. Pretty, yet so sad... My violin amongst the stars with skin so soft and eyes so emerald!

Hissssssssss.

Then let us go, m'dear.

Are you ready? Hold my hand.

I love you.