Four digits, one guess.

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

"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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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)

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?

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. ^^

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.

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"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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

"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.

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

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.

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.

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.

-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-.