Death Fractal v.1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Silly fly'.

Earthdance 09

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

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

We finally arrive at the doof.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The watchtower.

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

Take me to Wonderland.

I want to be your doll.

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

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

Bring me eccentric characters and good luck charms.

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

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

Where is my wise and disturbing Cheshire Cat?

Where is my Mad Hatter?

My White Knight in Shining armour?

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

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

Let me be your Alice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don't want to be human.

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

But I do want to exist.

Just not here, like this.

Same voices prt. 2

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

Oyeah...

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

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

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

I'm really happy.

Gone git hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigggggh.

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

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

Wonderful fear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bobbie.

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

And,

Bobbie is loved by me bulk.

Kbyenao.

xx

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

Symmetry

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

But I know.

I see Hell in your eyes.

How does it feel when your heart grows cold?

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

Oh, but I know.

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

Fool.

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

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

You're going down with me.

I see Hell in your eyes.

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

I... Hate... You.

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

I've slept so long without you

It's tearing me apart too

How did it get so far?

Playing games with this old heart

I've killed a million petty souls

But I couldn't kill you

I've slept so long without you

For the doves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Newest Gameshow. 4

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

Placebo :D

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

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

BE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

:D

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

Lololololol.

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

K, going to go on a little journey now.

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

xx

>=[

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGEEEEEEEEEE.

My pretty little fucker, NOT YOURS.

Grrrrrrrrrrr.

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

MINE, ye hear? YE HEAR?

I hope you do.

This is srs bsns.

You made me very, very ANGRY.

What's good?

Skyfire Ace - Sabrepulse - Chipbreak Wars.

Yes. This is.

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

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

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

Little soldier.

Do you remember... anything?

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

Why, have you gone and done this to yourself?

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

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

What the fuck are you?

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

I'll eat your babies, bro.

Perfectly Flawed.

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

You're perfectly flawed.

You're perfectly incomplete.

Like cracks in the glass

And faded photographs.

A disguise of self-deception

Hides my secrets perfectly.

I'm rejecting my reflection'

Cause I hate the way it judges me.

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

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

(l) Otep (l)