Sunday, May 31, 2009

I want to dance with you fire, fuck my human form.

I realize I have no respect for human beings. Filth.
"I'd fuck a dead chick, it's a human corpse, I don't care what I do to people".
Yet I still manage to have espect for every other living thing on this planet.
"Actually, it's a rabbit corpse, which means it's dead, therefor it does not want for anything, so it does not want to be on his face, and since I respect this, I shall respect it's resting place".
Probably due to the fact that human beings view themselves above everything else, place their own kind as Gods and sneer at the rest of the world, naming everything as their own.
"Don't you fucking kill it! It's a part of the doof!".
My respect for dogs is wavering, however. I mean, I love dogs, I admire their loyalty and such, but why love humans? Humans who made your ancestors into tools? They have reduced you to a quivering, pathetic fur-thing who knows only to obey.

I got myself into a bit of a loop.
Surprisingly, I remember more of this trip than any other. Maybe because I haven't really slept yet, or possibly because I tried so damn hard all night to remember the things I figured out. And whilst experiencing the whole episode wasn't all that fun, remembering it gives me time to think things over and understand better what things I made up and what things I discovered.
I remember why I don't want to take acid anymore, because pretty much as soon as I have and the fun has worn off, I shy away from the things I'm being shown and get scared.
I remember, also, why I continue to take it. Because nothing bad ever happens. Sure, I may be THINKING about killing myself whilst wondering if I'm already dead, but I always come out of it feeling like I know something that nobody else does. And that feeling is refreshing.
I know also, that in order to really remember anything, you must experience, and so to grasp the whole picture of what happened during your trip, you must trip again. Of course, things never turn out quite the same.

I saw a lot in people I liked and didn't like, my idea of some of them has changed slightly. I sat by the fire, toying with the heat, the smoke, the flames and bending them while I tried to remember what was so important about anything I was worried about. And in all, nothing. I didn't give a fuck if I'd knocked over someones beer, I really didn't. And I didn't NEED to find my friend, I just wanted to. I knew he was fine and that I'd see him later, I was just distracting myself in order to get to the point.

I also had the strangest idea, that I couldn't think. Couldn't create images, coudn't remember clearly, couldn't target my thoughts. It was so blank, I was sure I was dead.

And of course, whilst debating over whether or not our minds had changed, "Oly your perception has changed", which threw me off balance and had me trying to figure that out for the rest of the night.

Time consumes. Time bends. Time stalls. Time skips. Time waits. Time is a demon. I know it.

It seemed like sleep was the only option, forcing myself to submit to logic. "You're not enjoying yourself, so just fucking go to sleep". By now, I was fairly certain I was not dead, would wake up if I slept, and that my trip would end. But the fire was so warm, and she was so beautiful. The light of everything.

Grey fields in the morning. Like a peice of Exitland on Earth. It was beautiful. Rabbit corpses, Chai-tea gremlin skulls and animal prints everywhere, a fucking graveyard. When she left, I wandered around with my favortite pothead. "Do you have any cigarettes?" "I only have three left" "I know you do, but I was going to ask anyway, so then you'd only have two". Basked in the sunlight, talking to an angel who spoke soft, friendly, saying things that even in my anti-social state, were vastly interesting.

It ends with three things.
Fear vs. Knowledge.
Human vs. Dooflands.
Television vs. Campfires.

Friday, May 29, 2009

The new box.

Build up.Bold
One leech can't suck your body dry, but fall into a pit of them...
Stare at the screen and hope you've done the right thing. You know you'll be thinking about it for a looooong time.
Five down... Two to go. Though, I think maybe you shamed yourself too much, and maybe there's only one left. But then, you might as well not see that one anymore, as not to cause further difficulties.
Empty. The box is now empty. You are alone, how does it feel?
Right, and it's far better from the messy, dirty, complicated and difficult box you fed off before, right?
Do what you were going to do anyway, and just rebuild with less complex beings. Do it the easy way. Do it fir yourself, and fuck the world. Fuck your mission, it can wait if you're sooooo important!

P.s You are not my God. You are not my God. You are not my God. I am the only God I need, so don't get ahead of yourself, sugarman. Don't look down on me for not following YOUR plan, code by code. I'm on my own road. And for now, I'm taking a break. So quite simply, FUCK YOU.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009


Grey sky. Eery feel. Souls washed up in the tide. I travel here, but I must be quick. They want to leave with me. I am their gateway.
Grey sky cracks, lighten my way, my love.

Chained to the wall, wings breaking, crumbling, feathers falling into shadow hands. The trouble with Exitland, is it is not land of exit at all. It is being chained to the wall.
Souls have lost all personality, they grapple a reach, like the pits of hell. They lie here in wait of us, waiting for their gateway to a place to replenish.
Don't go there.

Grey sky. Eery feel. Souls wash up in the tide. I travel here, but I must be quick.

Otherwordly beauty, morbid grey sky. I'm getting better at this, I think. I'm getting better at being their gateway. I'm getting better at being more connected to her.

She is what chains me to this wall. Oh, missing peice, do not go to Exitland.


I make this promise, I make this promise, I make this promise.

When we leave, I will be holding your hand, please do not give up on 'us'.

The Castle will never fall, and we will go there.

I must not bring them to this Earth. I must bring these humans to their realms.

But we must be quick.

I love you.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Feel this.

Don't gimme the gun, 'cause we're goin' down.

And, on a lighter note...

The lemon tree is Ree-dick-you-less-lee insane.

Sunday, May 24, 2009


We burried our secrets.
In the form of corpses.
We burried our secrets so long ago,
beneath the cherry blossoms,
amongst the wildflowers.

From one hot summer's day to the next,
we shared illegal fantasies and pleasure beneath the cherry blossoms,
amongst your sweet flesh,
amongst the wildflowers.
A summer romance.
Not meant to last.

The flowers are pink as your lips,
and the skies are as blue as your eyes.
The grass is as gold as your hair,
and tonight, the moon was as full as your smiles, as white as your pale, tangable skin.
The stars shone as brightly as our joy,
long ago,
amongst the wildflowers.

They told us it could never last,
but we ran together, hand in hand, and laughed it off in eachother's warm embrace.
I can still feel your racing heart,
and taste your bittersweet saliva today,
though it was years ago,
that we were beneath the cherryblossoms,
amongst the wildflowers.

I burried my secrets,
In the form of a corpse.
I felt you were with me, for you were, lifeless in my arms.
I burry my secrets today,
beneath the cherryblossom,
amongst the wildflowers.

If we had been caught,
beneath the cherryblossom,
I can only think.
If we had been caught,
amongst the wildflowers.

So many times,
So many secrets,
So much passion,
We shared it all,
amongst the wildflowers.

Then we shed blood,
My hands, the knife, and your crimson flow.

I burry my secrets,
In the form of your corpse,
For I feel if they were to know, about the events that took place beneath the cherryblossom,
I would sutrely be as lifeless as you.
And one of us must live on,
to remember,
To keep the secret of what happened,
beneath the cherryblossom,
amongst the wildflowers.


Creeping up...
Can't you hear the violins?
Can you smell the formaldehyde?
Can you feel the animals clawing at your skin?
Falling, forever.
In to closed spaces and doors you can not get through.
Can you taste the fear?
They want you dead.
They want to seperate your head from your body.
Because you don't belong here.
You don't belong anywhere.
And now you're lost.
Floating heads...
Faceless smiles...
Morphing in to terrible shapes.
Chloroform etched to your wind pipe.
She screams.
They fight for you.
You tread on their bodies, shifting them in to the earth.
Burried alive.
You shouldn't have done it.
And as they laugh at you, as your face contorts,They disappear and you're on your own again.
You ask yourself "Why can't I stay the same?"
Oh baby, we're in Wonderland.

2 + 2 = 5

You have become, and that is all.

Step back before you fall.

Please exclude me, world.
I wish to do things on my own, for a better understanding or a lack thereof.
I'm feeling better, refreshed, but also clogged up with so much bullshit.
Bullshit I can't grasp the meaning of, or toss away.
I do not mean to offend you, dear world, I believe you to be quite capable of overthrowing this... place. But I know you won't. I will guide you there, I will recruit and install.
So please, remember to exclude me, world.
My intentions and ideas are my own, they can be shared and argued, but they must not be compared.
I will not allow my head to be connected to another, unless it suits me to do so. And for now, I believe I am not ready for such a step.
So respect my feeling here, and remember to exclude me, world.

Puuuuuuurrrrty interesting.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Newest Gameshow. 2

Well, shit, the sarcasm and joker effect used within this peice is slightly overwhelming.
Apologies, I did not mean to cause malfunctions, it just happens on occasion; This is a special occasion.
Calls for a celerbration, a battle within the self, the battle to find the least likely. So hurry up and produce the glasses! A lot can be learned, in fact, just by losing! And what, in the great marmoset's name could be gained by coming out on top? Pride, satis- ooooooh. That feels good, right there.
Tchhh, feeling better now?
"I must say, I've lost my marbles! Fantastic! Wonderful!".
Did you not say there was yet ANOTHER!?
"Another, ye say!? Well in fact, yes! Yes! Yes! But let's not go into that, it's far too cruel on the woman's face. Did you see the look she gave -malfunction- !?"
Tut tut, I must say, you've lost your marbles. But then, I never saw you marbles and you never told me about them before, so how the hell do I know you ever had them?
"Because wh-why would one INSIST on losing something if it never was there to lose?"
Because they are insane!?
"Fantastic! Wonderful! You have passed this level. Onwards, dear warrior, and I love you, thanks a lot".
Wh-why thanking you, my little cumkins.

Headgames on the road to war.

I am fresh. I have cleared my mind and sorted it out. A spring cleaning.
But still, the uncanny stillness. The feeling... Of needing to do something whilst there is nothing left to do, but sit back and wait for the war.
The feeling... Of packing all your mental belongings inside and getting the bars back to full strength.
Must get prepared.
The calm before the storm.
Can't sit still. Can't think straight. Can't get back to reality, because I don't know where it is. Believe me. This isn't right.
And one day you'll take back the times you mocked me. When you see that everything I ever said about this... 'place' was so right. You'll see I am more than you could ever be.
I don't know what to expect, but I can feel the change coming.
The people scurrying like ants before it rains.
I don't think they understand what I'm doing.
I'm bringing myself back, fuck your upheaval.
I am my universe, your thoughts don't need to reach me. Just wait.
I've already found several of them.
Tut tut, he who knows all, you're so usually right, I can sense it, but believe me, he is not one of them. You're wrong. Stop playing games and get to the awards. You've underestimated me.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Pain, lights, time.

3:38 aye em.
I'm certain that time hasn't changed a bit since I awoke. I'm certain daylight is days away. I'm certain that I'm making this shit up as I go along. I'm trying to remember.
Here is a black sheet, some unorganized life, chaotic and bruised, like wings clipped and dirty. Like the words ejected by somebody who is still dreaming.
I've given up dreaming, given up thinking, given up feeling, wish I could give up caring. And I almost have.
I miss you. I miss your filthy words and your hypnotic half-smile. I miss your touch and the way you always seem to know. I miss holding your hand to cross streets, sipping wine and crushing vegetation while bouncing in and out of reality. I miss your kiss goodbye.
But I should probably forget you. I'm starting to think I made you up. She is my proof I didn't, but she's gone too. I've never felt this alone before, and I can't say I like it.
I guess time has come back to me, it may be slow and difficult, but it's apparent. At least, with that, I can settle down and try to understand. But that's only if I want to, but I'll make up some excuses now, some excuses as to why I never want to do anything, why I can never understand, why I'm changing at a speed so ahead of time, so infinite.
I'm trying to remember when the metamorphosis began, but I've forgotten everything behind me, and forgotten the future exists. Maybe this moment is all that is. This moment of nothing. This moment of missing you, missing her. Like the biggest mistake you ever made. Like the one thing you ever feel regret over. The one thing that wasn't fate. You've vanished, like them all, and I can't have that.
Everyone who ever means anything leaves me here. I know I'm not special, I know they aren't leaving just to spite me, but right now, I dont care why they're gone, only that they are, and I'm not.
3:51, time just expanded.
It's my only reassurance that I'm still here, and I never realized it. Check your pain to know you're alive, check the lights to know you're awake, check the time to know you're still here. Play by the rules, but you're talking shit.
The worst kind of fuck-up.
Now I'm just counting. Stare at the clock, check you're here. Pain, lights, time.
I need a cigarette.
"I don't want to know the time", because you're tripping balls and you don't want reality to seep in.

Be my demon.

You were the first to notice it.
But dear, this is not a mannequin you're staring at. This is armor, a shell, a corset, a pretty dress, a cage.
I'm falling in and out of myself, all my links are disestablished and I can't repair any connections.
What you are staring at is a person too arrogant to admit when they're wrong, too fucked up to care, lacking too much hope to try anymore.
So, there are three options, when one feels they can not be. I could take the easiest way out, the obvious one, but I've no taste for suicide because I am terrified of death. Simply, I have not sold myself to any idea of what happens next, and the concept of the unknown sends shivers down my spine. I want to breathe. The cigarettes hate me a lot.
The next option is of letting yourself be taken over by some sheer form of insanity. While I would argue I am already quite insane, talking to demons and going on crazy rants of chaos, they all say I'm nowhere near that state. Wishful thinking, I guess.
Intstead, I let my demon help me here, because I needed to meditate, needed to freshen up, needed to clear my head. Because I let him, he's making me into some idiotic little fuckwit, so distant, so unprepared, so conceited. This isn't me. It isn't what I want. But the idea here is to drive me out of my self, not my mind, but myself. And thus, I will cease to feel, and only observe. No actions, no decisions, no consequences. But I'm too unstable to let the process complete, to download the final files and install the new program. We have a shortcut here, but that is all we've done.
I'll eventually, after hours of the dream-like-state, come out with the line "I just remembered who I am", followed by some morbid words that will turn my current friend to a wavering "Okay".
I think it's too late. I already gave him permission, whilst fucked up over fucking up some fucked up persons fucked up mind because of some fucked up reason that my fucked up self can't seem to remember. Real or not, my mind already made the decision. And I'm starting to sink into something similar to depression, but with ubiquitous amounts of self-love, the kind that people want to shoot you for, all the while you are tempted to massacre the world, and then faceplant into a sea of spikes. It's something I can't understand.
"The world ends when I end. What's the brightest thing you've ever seen?". You can help me. So can Mr. Half-smile, and the fallen Angel. My shining star can not any longer. Something happened. I can't allow myself to think about it, I don't want to, I can't, I can't, I can't.
I feel everything. I feel the rise and fall of every star. We are the last. But I'm fading.
Remark with something witty, tell me I'm talking shit and that I'm okay. But I don't believe you anymore. I can't.
And only a little part of me wants out of this arteficcial happiness. The rest is too greedy to remember. And this part that can be fucked won't stay for long. Who knows if it's even still here?So let us hope, for the sake of everyone and everything that I love and hate, the things that disgust me and the things I respect.... That I will come back to me.
Just hold me tightly and whisper lies down my neck in hot breath... Be my demon. I am completely in his control now.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009


I witnessed a happiness I thought impossible for me. I was without worries. I was so free, felt needed and loved. Felt like I could really use this. Wondered why the hell I'd never been interested in this kids before.
And then something happened, something I thought impossible for me. I was so worried, all my liberation and happiness gone. Felt like I'd fucked up bad, couldn't remember how. Wondered why the hell I'd been so happy seconds before.
On the verge, on the brink.
And he came along, because I told him I needed him.
And he forced me to meditate. He forced me to clear my mind and start fresh. He saved me from my mind.
He then reminded me in my dreams. "Dear, you're so worried, so fragile, you're going insane, and you can't rely on me forever". Realized I'm a whiney little bitch that can't support myself. Well, shit.
I asked him a lot. He simply told me "Do not trust me, do not fear me". I felt a little unsure as to how both could be accurate. But I let him hold me, protecting me, constricting me. I let him, and I told him he could have me, told him he could become.
He gave me a nightmare to show me just how dangerous I was getting.
I can't say goodbye, I'm no damn good with goodbyes.
I'm going to put it all on hold and let it come to me, I'm no damn good with taking action.
But I'm so scared, and my hope is wavering.
I know I can't keep you here forever, but I beg you now, just stay a little longer. I need you.
"Keep yourself together, for the team. Come on, come on, now, little one. It's not so bad, and you don't need me at all", he says. "All you need is to realize all of this is your doing, I am not great, you are a part of me, as I am a part of you. We are one. You need yourself, not me. Stop thinking there is one greater than you, there is not. And I will hold onto you, but do not ever trust me, I press this, never let yourself trust me, love me, need me. You are never going to be alone, little one, I must warn you now, but don't be scared, honey. Do not be scared. You are okay. You're getting mixed up in the codes. I'm here now, and I will be, until you let yourself go insane. So don't go crazy, bitch. For I will be gone".
But insanity looks so thrilling...

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Something else.

I feel like after the amount of time I spent away from here, I owe myself. But it's not like that, not now.
The demon... I kind of wish it were real, but I've figured all it is is something to keep me sane. If I blame all my theories, premonitions and absurd knowledge on somebody else, I'm just as normal as everyone else. But I guess all it took was a little bit of something horrible to realize that, hey, get the fuck over it. I'm not going to fit in, so why keep trying? It's frustrating. It's painful. It makes me angry, makes me wish I could open up my fucking mouth and tell them how idiotic the things they're saying are! I wish I had the strength to be myself, to not just sit and watch the world go by and open my mouth only to say those silly little cliche things that clarify me to be completely ordinary. Face it, no matter what the hell they tell you, you're not fine, you're not going to be fine, things aren't going to work out and you are completely alone in your thinking.
Nobody else has any relations to the things you thing, you fucking idiot. You're insane, you're insane, you're insane. Does that help? No, it doesn't, because you're not insane, are you?
Liberate. Pure... Clean... Free.
Stop being what you want to be! Stop pretending you know more than everyone else, because you're a motherfucking idiot. You know nothing, you're not special, you're not different in any other way except that you have this horrible little way of looking down on everybody else and picking them apart as if they don't even exist.
But hey, don't think that makes you any better, it just means you think you are,
Do you even remember what you were talking about!?
Are you talking to yourself, or someone else?
I don't really know, and cbf caring.
Well, I'll tell you what, honey. You just spoke to yourself then, right? And you're doing it now, right?
Yeah, but that's different.

... And that, my dear, is the end of that. Insane, sane, idiotic, brilliant. cbf caring.
It's too much fucking effort.
Like a good little stoner.


THC, knives and pretty hips.

What a lifetime spent inside my mind.
Fingering the lace that ties me here, pretty, soft, almost tempting, certianly interesting, but under the influence of life, I feel this overwhelming urge to sink my teeth into it and cause a tear.
I think this is where I let go, because my mind can't focus, too concentrated on the buzzing sounds and flashing realities. Half-stoned, due to dragon-kissing. Writing and recovering at the same time, wondering where the hell I went.
Pull it together, with that lace we talked about, but don't strangle yourself.
The things I wished to communicate, the on-going tugging to get the message across to you, to her, to him, to them, to me. But come on, when were demons fair?
I wonder what happened while I was too involved in myself to be with them. I wonder what I did, what they did, what we did... Oh come on, you know what it felt like to jack him off, to have him dripping on your hips, and then to have the other one sliding his fingers up... And you'd look up, startled.
"Am I doing this?"
No. You pull away, so scared, so shocked. This isn't what you wanted.
Come back. Go to sleep. Pretend you're sleeping, at the very least. Oh dear, but while you fake your dream-state, they continue to touch and persist, and you have to stay awake, so you can fight them off you.
Almost too tired to object anymore.
I know I'm coming on too personal, but this isn't how it happened at all. This is only how it has effected me.
In all truth, though I feel a little stained, I always wanted to grind my hips against his cock.
It's just, it didn't happen, did it?
"I'd fuck you so bad"
"I can't fuck you when your clothes are on"
"Want me to take them off?"
So, I'm sorry that I'm clumsy and idiotic, but you disturbed me from my fantasy.
You know, I couldn't, ever, because there's him, and her...
I think I made her mad, and I don't know how, but all I want is to feel her arms around me right now, and tell me that I didn't fuck up, that I didn't end that episode tainted, that my mind will go back to normal, because I can't stand this buzzing, this rambling, this dissection of my thought patterns. It isn't fair.
Come on, come on, reach out, swallow your pride, tell them all how you feel. Tell her, you know you need to, call him, because his face is haunting you so bad, every corner, every dream, every stranger... And tell your lover you could never feel anything for him, because there's nothing to him. You couldn't hurt him, he doesn't feel, he couldn't hurt you. He doesn't exist.
Please, please, please, don't do this the easy way.
Even while he's holding you against him, your head on his chest whilst you sleep after you've swallowed about a litre of his saliva... It's nothing, honey. It's nothing, and you know it. And you don't care. Your heart doesn't flutter, your mind doesn't conjur, your dreams aren't consistant. Fucking shadow people.
Fuck that pot shit.
I won't, I won't, I won't... But she will. When she's battling with demons, writing shit to people she doesn't believe in anymore, and wondering where the hell she went...
I'm sitting here, empty head waiting to be filled with something I know is real. Something that isn't just happening, something I'm not just thinking, not just observing.
Where the hell is he? Give me that kiss goodbye, so I know I'm real. Don't leave me with the humans, don't leave me to fall into the hands of his. Please, assure me that I have a reason to fight. Come back to me, just one last time, and I promise I'll be okay again. Don't let them see me falling apart, please.

... You're not coming back, are you?

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Thou shalt pay.

It can be said, that most of what goes in was on the outside originally.
However, life is composed of both.
Catch my drift?
Dirty, dirty, dirty.
Shredded wombs and children's tombs.
Pretty filth, pretty filth.
Shredded womb.
Demons pulling at my skin.
Angelic filth?
Demon child.
Shredded womb.
Dirty, dirty, dirty.
Shredded thing, pretty thing.
Just give way, there is nothing you can do.
"Just pretend it's someone else!"
Sick dog, sick dog.
Shredded wombs and pretty things.


A quiet illness.
4am and you tell yourself you'll do something other than stare at the walls when the sun comes up. "They're not gawna change, man!"
But they do, as the light in the room changes and the sun bathes the walls in it's pretty warmth, and all of a sudden, you're lost in nothing again.
It's getting on midday and you've done nothing but smoke a few cigarettes, or maybe more than a few... And stare endlessly into the walls.
"What are you feeling?"
Meh, boredom, addiction, guilt... A little tired too. But who cares? The walls aren't going to stare at themselves, are they!?
The silence has you in a chokehold. The eery noise the refrigerator omits... And it's getting dark again.

This is a wasted day.

This is boredom, guilt, addiction... A litle tired too.

This is sloth, depression and sheer laziness.

But what can you do?
The walls arent going to stare at themselves.