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.