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
Thursday, February 18, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, February 15, 2010
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...
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.
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.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
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
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
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Monday, January 18, 2010
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").
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").
Sunday, January 17, 2010
/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
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
Monday, January 11, 2010
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.
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.
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-.
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-.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Underwater.
I hope you can hold your breath.
Underwater. The scene fades away when the splash of your sinking body is all that can be heard. Fully submerged, clawing at his chest, back, arms, flailing. Gasp. Surface.
And before I can call him all kinds of bad things, I'm under again, and again, water seeping into my pores, gasping for air, slashing at him, slashing at anything. I emerge, finally, cling to him, recovering, and then attempt to push him under. Whoosh. Gone.
His figure disappears beneath the surface and reappears beside me, once more taking ahold of my resenting form and sending me below again, hearing his sadistic laughter between struggled breaths.
"All right, all right, I'm wet already, fuck you!".
I stand in the center of the water mass, dripping. My bra is tattered, and I clutch at my white Jim Morrison t-shirt in frustration, clambering out of the pool. He wraps his towl around me, rolls me a cigarette and pours me a drink of only the finest, warmest bourbon.
Not a sore loser, are you?", he jests opposite the table, where the others laugh behind their glasses at my disastarous state.
It began roughly 40 minutes ago, my easily-amused mind quite occupied with the stacking of empty beer bottles.Seeing this game to his liking, he tested his skills, his towers always falling and bringing mine down in a terrifying cresendo which I feared would always end with eyeballs scraped from shards of glass.
Once this game grew tiresom, or more, pissed too many others off, he amused himself in throwing random objects in my direction. Frowning, I returned the objects, eventually devisiing a 'secret plan', and returning with water bombs, pelting them at his surprised frame. When I returned with second rounds, he was well prepared, hose in one hand, large bottle of water in the other. On top of this, my aim grew poor. I was successful in attacking his torso, however.
You just wanted me to take my shirt off, didn't you?
I snorted at this, and dashed within the safety of the house for a usable bottle, filling it up with water and reciprocating his splashes. Eventually, he bolted to the poolside, and I shrieked in frustration as my bottle fell in the pool, leaving me defenseless.
I took one look at my already wet form, shrugged my shoulders and dove in the pool, now in a perfect battle zone, sending armfuls of water at him as he fought with his shoes. And then he was in the water beside me, and then I was under the water, and then I had all limbs wrapped around him, trying to force him underwater...
I hope you can hold your breath...
Later, and I'm just chillin' on the couch, but it appears he has made it his life goal to annoy me. Poke. Poke.
I raise my hand and bring my nails across his flesh in a haggard slash. I hear the other males warn him not to take me on. I grin, nails and teeth sharp and furious.
It doesn't take him long to be on top of me, holding me down in some fucked up form of dominance, leering at me as I try to sink my teeth into him, just once and he's regret this, just once. I manage a few good scratches, watching them fill with blood.
And allof a sudden, there are arms and legs and heads all around me, as every male in the room decides to help. Help him.
"Fuck off, I'm already struggling as it is!".
I simply refuse to yeild, taking the pain as it comes, trying to get a mouthful of his arm, his chest, his neck, anything to make him yelp in pain as I riiiiiip skin. He's got my fingers in a tight grip, twisting them back.
"If you break something, I will kill you", I hiss behind gritted teeth.
"I won't, I won't, I'm just proving that I can manipulate you in this hold".
He adjusts his grip. I've seen this one before. I exhale, deja-vu.
My neck sidles up with the couchhead, my arms twisted uncomfortably across my chest, neck in unnatural pain. Eventually, he releases me and I huff.
By the end of the hour, two of the other males have had a go at me, one managing to take a large and painful bite directly between neck and shoulder, in that favored dent. Twice. The other, a well built male at that, attempts some sort of hold from behind, and surprising the onlookers, I lift him onto my back and toss him off of me. He captured me in a chokehold, and this is where I bite. In.
I drag him across the room by meerly my mouth, tasting blood in my mouth. He tickles me, and still I hold tight, laughing with a mouthful of flesh. He attempts all things, but my grip is firm. I feel my teeth shift in further, and understanding I am near to taking a chunk out, I release, to be met with his teeth.
By dawn, the bite he left on me is a faint, but large bruise, whilst my bite is a evil looking puncture wound.
I dart to the corner of the room, curling up on the couch, snarling at everyone, clutching my kitten to my breast.
Come sit between us, my original combat partner says, patting the spot between himself and the well-built biter.
You can sit on my lap, says the biter.
My original combat partner extends his arms, pouting. I merely his from my seat. "You all suck!", I call, keeping my eyes trained on each one of them.
I have never had more fun whilst in such pain! :D
Underwater. The scene fades away when the splash of your sinking body is all that can be heard. Fully submerged, clawing at his chest, back, arms, flailing. Gasp. Surface.
And before I can call him all kinds of bad things, I'm under again, and again, water seeping into my pores, gasping for air, slashing at him, slashing at anything. I emerge, finally, cling to him, recovering, and then attempt to push him under. Whoosh. Gone.
His figure disappears beneath the surface and reappears beside me, once more taking ahold of my resenting form and sending me below again, hearing his sadistic laughter between struggled breaths.
"All right, all right, I'm wet already, fuck you!".
I stand in the center of the water mass, dripping. My bra is tattered, and I clutch at my white Jim Morrison t-shirt in frustration, clambering out of the pool. He wraps his towl around me, rolls me a cigarette and pours me a drink of only the finest, warmest bourbon.
Not a sore loser, are you?", he jests opposite the table, where the others laugh behind their glasses at my disastarous state.
It began roughly 40 minutes ago, my easily-amused mind quite occupied with the stacking of empty beer bottles.Seeing this game to his liking, he tested his skills, his towers always falling and bringing mine down in a terrifying cresendo which I feared would always end with eyeballs scraped from shards of glass.
Once this game grew tiresom, or more, pissed too many others off, he amused himself in throwing random objects in my direction. Frowning, I returned the objects, eventually devisiing a 'secret plan', and returning with water bombs, pelting them at his surprised frame. When I returned with second rounds, he was well prepared, hose in one hand, large bottle of water in the other. On top of this, my aim grew poor. I was successful in attacking his torso, however.
You just wanted me to take my shirt off, didn't you?
I snorted at this, and dashed within the safety of the house for a usable bottle, filling it up with water and reciprocating his splashes. Eventually, he bolted to the poolside, and I shrieked in frustration as my bottle fell in the pool, leaving me defenseless.
I took one look at my already wet form, shrugged my shoulders and dove in the pool, now in a perfect battle zone, sending armfuls of water at him as he fought with his shoes. And then he was in the water beside me, and then I was under the water, and then I had all limbs wrapped around him, trying to force him underwater...
I hope you can hold your breath...
Later, and I'm just chillin' on the couch, but it appears he has made it his life goal to annoy me. Poke. Poke.
I raise my hand and bring my nails across his flesh in a haggard slash. I hear the other males warn him not to take me on. I grin, nails and teeth sharp and furious.
It doesn't take him long to be on top of me, holding me down in some fucked up form of dominance, leering at me as I try to sink my teeth into him, just once and he's regret this, just once. I manage a few good scratches, watching them fill with blood.
And allof a sudden, there are arms and legs and heads all around me, as every male in the room decides to help. Help him.
"Fuck off, I'm already struggling as it is!".
I simply refuse to yeild, taking the pain as it comes, trying to get a mouthful of his arm, his chest, his neck, anything to make him yelp in pain as I riiiiiip skin. He's got my fingers in a tight grip, twisting them back.
"If you break something, I will kill you", I hiss behind gritted teeth.
"I won't, I won't, I'm just proving that I can manipulate you in this hold".
He adjusts his grip. I've seen this one before. I exhale, deja-vu.
My neck sidles up with the couchhead, my arms twisted uncomfortably across my chest, neck in unnatural pain. Eventually, he releases me and I huff.
By the end of the hour, two of the other males have had a go at me, one managing to take a large and painful bite directly between neck and shoulder, in that favored dent. Twice. The other, a well built male at that, attempts some sort of hold from behind, and surprising the onlookers, I lift him onto my back and toss him off of me. He captured me in a chokehold, and this is where I bite. In.
I drag him across the room by meerly my mouth, tasting blood in my mouth. He tickles me, and still I hold tight, laughing with a mouthful of flesh. He attempts all things, but my grip is firm. I feel my teeth shift in further, and understanding I am near to taking a chunk out, I release, to be met with his teeth.
By dawn, the bite he left on me is a faint, but large bruise, whilst my bite is a evil looking puncture wound.
I dart to the corner of the room, curling up on the couch, snarling at everyone, clutching my kitten to my breast.
Come sit between us, my original combat partner says, patting the spot between himself and the well-built biter.
You can sit on my lap, says the biter.
My original combat partner extends his arms, pouting. I merely his from my seat. "You all suck!", I call, keeping my eyes trained on each one of them.
I have never had more fun whilst in such pain! :D
Scream of the butterfly...
A creature made of sunshine
Her eyes were like the sky
Rabbit howls like something old as we twitch to her lullaby
The scalpel shines in god's sunshine
Street lights whisper pain
Down here near the poison stream our god has gone insane
She smiles like a child with flowers in her hair
With blood on her hands into the sun she stares
She feels it die, I heard her cry
Like the scream of the butterfly
Sunshine a house in flames
She likes it where she gets it but it's never felt the same
Surgery in the house of dissection
When your candle burns out I will resurrect you
She runs through fields of daisies
Yeah it's just a shame that they eat their own babies
Who cares cause the air is free
When you get there will you kiss the dead for me?
There's blood on the moon and the summer is cold
There's love in the room but baby that's gettin' old
There's blood on my face sittin' on a dead shore
A highway of emptiness and I'm gettin' bored
There's blood on the moon as we plan our escape
The goddess in bloom, handcuffed and raped
There's blood in the bathtub, baby, murder the king
There's blood on the moon
There's blood on just about everything
Sunshine a house in flames
She likes it where she gets it but it's never felt the same
Surgery in the house of dissection
When your candle burns out I will resurrect you
She runs through fields of daisies
Yeah it's just a shame that they eat their own babies
Who cares? 'Cause the air is free
When you get there will you kiss the dead for me?
Something cold is forced inside her
A tear spills down her cheek
Stillborn songs of a dead dreamer
Hymns of the needle freak
With sunlight in her hair she smiles like she don't care
Her dreams are liquid blue
I cut myself again and again to remind myself of you
She smiles like a child with flowers in her hair
With blood on her hands into the sun she stares
She feels it die, I heard her cry
Like the scream of the butterfly
I met an angel with a sawed-off shotgun
Wanted by the FBI
We dropped some acid, killed our parents
Then we hit the road
Like the scream of the butterfly
Her eyes were like the sky
Rabbit howls like something old as we twitch to her lullaby
The scalpel shines in god's sunshine
Street lights whisper pain
Down here near the poison stream our god has gone insane
She smiles like a child with flowers in her hair
With blood on her hands into the sun she stares
She feels it die, I heard her cry
Like the scream of the butterfly
Sunshine a house in flames
She likes it where she gets it but it's never felt the same
Surgery in the house of dissection
When your candle burns out I will resurrect you
She runs through fields of daisies
Yeah it's just a shame that they eat their own babies
Who cares cause the air is free
When you get there will you kiss the dead for me?
There's blood on the moon and the summer is cold
There's love in the room but baby that's gettin' old
There's blood on my face sittin' on a dead shore
A highway of emptiness and I'm gettin' bored
There's blood on the moon as we plan our escape
The goddess in bloom, handcuffed and raped
There's blood in the bathtub, baby, murder the king
There's blood on the moon
There's blood on just about everything
Sunshine a house in flames
She likes it where she gets it but it's never felt the same
Surgery in the house of dissection
When your candle burns out I will resurrect you
She runs through fields of daisies
Yeah it's just a shame that they eat their own babies
Who cares? 'Cause the air is free
When you get there will you kiss the dead for me?
Something cold is forced inside her
A tear spills down her cheek
Stillborn songs of a dead dreamer
Hymns of the needle freak
With sunlight in her hair she smiles like she don't care
Her dreams are liquid blue
I cut myself again and again to remind myself of you
She smiles like a child with flowers in her hair
With blood on her hands into the sun she stares
She feels it die, I heard her cry
Like the scream of the butterfly
I met an angel with a sawed-off shotgun
Wanted by the FBI
We dropped some acid, killed our parents
Then we hit the road
Like the scream of the butterfly
NtS 7.6
Paperback novella. Note to self 7.6.
- I have little time.
- Time has little ol' me.
- Hanging by threads, scissors wavering closer.
- Abandon your friends.
- I'd rather hurt someone then hurt myself.
- Always care about yourself, because no one else ever will.
- Don't bother speaking, no on listens anyway.
- Nothing you think will ever matter.
- Suicide is pointless.
- Love is a myth.
- Don't look back.
- Never, ever attach yourself.
- Avoid love at all costs.
- Never judge a book by it's cover.
- My addictions have no boundries.
- I fell in love with a demon, for sure.
- Time shows us, we all know the truth, in time.
- I can light the way.
- Happiness is feighned, smiles are faked.
- Everything is pointless.
- There's blood on just about everything.
- Females suck.
- Memories don't lie.
- I'm not crazy.
- God is a lie.
- Everything is uncertain, bar my uncertainty.
- I love you.
- I hate you.
- I'll kill you.
- I'll kill me.
- I'll kill the whole world.
- Love is pointless.
End of story.
Why females suck.
"Ohai, wake me up if my phone rings, or just let it ring out, kay?"
"Sure"
-Female friend answers phone, neglects to tell friend WHO IT WAS THAT CALLED when it was a very important call from someone friend doesn't hear from a lot, AND NEGLECTS to even tell friend WHAT WAS SAID-.
"Ohai, could you set an alarm on your phone for six, and wake me up,I have a very important mission to complete, meeting up with a dear friend I haven't seen in many, many months and probably won't if I don't today".
"Sure, I understand how important this is for you, and don't worry, we can stay here another night because I WILL wake you up".
-Wakes up at 1o, with simply two hours to get ready, get to traino, get to Freo from Kelmscott, call dear friend, arrange meeting-
"Ohai, could you baby-sit my cat for mewhilst I'm in Freo? It's hot as fuck and I don't want him stuck in his bag in the heat. Could we arrange a time/place forme to get him back because my phone is off?"
"Sure I can, don't worry about it. we'll sort something out. Call my house phone, I'll be there. Have an interesting day!"
-Arrives at friends house, after trying to call a few times, no sight of said friend, makes another call, is told friend is in CENTRAL PARK with CAT who has LIMITED FOOD in his bag, surrounded by DRUG-FUCKED, AGGRESSIVE NOHOPERS-.
Females, in short, are selfish WITCHES with no respect for your privacy, who NEVER LISTEN, who lie to your face, who DISRESPECT your feelings, USE YOU SENSELESS and then ABANDON YOU after making you feel bad for something THEY DID.
Also, they believe because they've done good by you in the past, that this excuses all new mistakes and fuck-ups. They weild blades and bare fangs and say things like "Oh, well I did -insert good deed which you were grateful for and repaid somewhat- for you, so this means I shoudl be forgiven for all the awful things I have just done".
Females think they know everyone so well, and like to speak for them. They are hypocrites who can't admit to their mistakes, never see the other side of an arguement and quickly point out everyone elses flaws, all up on their high horses with some apathetic facade, because since they're young and pretty, other people simply DO NOT MATTER, they get exactly as they want AND can get away with anything.
Dirty, little sluts. Why do females ALWAYS fuck me over?
I've never liked them.
Apologies to WOMEN out there, I just have no time for little girls.
:)
"Sure"
-Female friend answers phone, neglects to tell friend WHO IT WAS THAT CALLED when it was a very important call from someone friend doesn't hear from a lot, AND NEGLECTS to even tell friend WHAT WAS SAID-.
"Ohai, could you set an alarm on your phone for six, and wake me up,I have a very important mission to complete, meeting up with a dear friend I haven't seen in many, many months and probably won't if I don't today".
"Sure, I understand how important this is for you, and don't worry, we can stay here another night because I WILL wake you up".
-Wakes up at 1o, with simply two hours to get ready, get to traino, get to Freo from Kelmscott, call dear friend, arrange meeting-
"Ohai, could you baby-sit my cat for mewhilst I'm in Freo? It's hot as fuck and I don't want him stuck in his bag in the heat. Could we arrange a time/place forme to get him back because my phone is off?"
"Sure I can, don't worry about it. we'll sort something out. Call my house phone, I'll be there. Have an interesting day!"
-Arrives at friends house, after trying to call a few times, no sight of said friend, makes another call, is told friend is in CENTRAL PARK with CAT who has LIMITED FOOD in his bag, surrounded by DRUG-FUCKED, AGGRESSIVE NOHOPERS-.
Females, in short, are selfish WITCHES with no respect for your privacy, who NEVER LISTEN, who lie to your face, who DISRESPECT your feelings, USE YOU SENSELESS and then ABANDON YOU after making you feel bad for something THEY DID.
Also, they believe because they've done good by you in the past, that this excuses all new mistakes and fuck-ups. They weild blades and bare fangs and say things like "Oh, well I did -insert good deed which you were grateful for and repaid somewhat- for you, so this means I shoudl be forgiven for all the awful things I have just done".
Females think they know everyone so well, and like to speak for them. They are hypocrites who can't admit to their mistakes, never see the other side of an arguement and quickly point out everyone elses flaws, all up on their high horses with some apathetic facade, because since they're young and pretty, other people simply DO NOT MATTER, they get exactly as they want AND can get away with anything.
Dirty, little sluts. Why do females ALWAYS fuck me over?
I've never liked them.
Apologies to WOMEN out there, I just have no time for little girls.
:)
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Ladder 46 + 2
Amoeba
Small fish
Shark
mexican walking fish
Crocodile
Ape
Neanderthal
Barbarian
Shakespear
Einstein
Da Vinci
Hippie in the seventies
Modern age man
Future man
Computer
Robot
Psychic
High technology alien
Mayan
Shaman
Aldous Huxley
Divine Entity
God
Albert Hoffman
All of the above in one.
Small fish
Shark
mexican walking fish
Crocodile
Ape
Neanderthal
Barbarian
Shakespear
Einstein
Da Vinci
Hippie in the seventies
Modern age man
Future man
Computer
Robot
Psychic
High technology alien
Mayan
Shaman
Aldous Huxley
Divine Entity
God
Albert Hoffman
All of the above in one.
After... (5/10/08)
We're going away for a little while.
I felt I should pack but I've got nothing left.
Nothing is for certain.
The only thing I can believe is my disbelief.
I don't know how we got here.
I don't know where here is.
It could be anywhere in the world,
But it still feels like no where.
My head is so heavy...
But I'm out of my mind.
I'm glad that you can see me,
Because I no longer can.
You think you know everything,
But you don't know how I feel.
My mind is racing,
Should I not be tired?
Here is where it falls apart.
The vultures will feed well tonight.
I felt I should pack but I've got nothing left.
Nothing is for certain.
The only thing I can believe is my disbelief.
I don't know how we got here.
I don't know where here is.
It could be anywhere in the world,
But it still feels like no where.
My head is so heavy...
But I'm out of my mind.
I'm glad that you can see me,
Because I no longer can.
You think you know everything,
But you don't know how I feel.
My mind is racing,
Should I not be tired?
Here is where it falls apart.
The vultures will feed well tonight.
Drug-Fucked. (8/1/09)
Starting with a little dose,
Scene kid fucked off benzo,
Streets filled with the dealing of dope,
City with headspace and bodystoned.
Ketamine, Codeine,
Morphine, Tryptamines.
One more set of amphetamines,
Breakfast of caffeine and nicotine.
Heroin, opium, now I need some Aspirin.
Ritalin, Vicodin, Mescaline with Mexicans.
DXM, Valium, all these fucking hallucinogens.
Blacking out, flipping out, needle full of adrenalin.
DMT, LSD, GHB, Ecstacy.
Shitty speed and nosebleeds,
Diet of weed and peyote,
Half-way through this fucking sheet!
Smoke that shit, smoke that crack.
Hiding all the needle tracks.
Feasting on bunch of tabs,
I just got another ten-stack!
What's in the vial?
I don't care.
Zombie style,
Smokin' gear.
MDMA,
LSA,
Cigarettes,
Prescription meds.
Magic mushrooms,
Railing cocaine,
Methadone,
Feed me Novocaine.
Wheres my stash?
Need more hash.
I'm on everything,
I'm fucking trashed.
Stimulants, Depressants,
Fucking inhalants,
Too many psychedelics,
Find me some narcotics.
Leaving with a bottle,
Coming home drunk,
Fingering crystals,
Feeling fucked.
I'm gurning,
I'm candy flipping,
Powder, bong, needle, joint, pill,
Anything to get me tripping.
Pulling cones, red eyes.
Coming down, glazed eyes.
Got fired from work for looking wrecked,
Need to stick to legal highs.
Weekend on salvia,
Weekend on datura,
Medic addict,
Find me liquids.
Losing weight, more sleep.
Wake up with hangovers and my memory gone.
Buzzing like fuck, less sleep.
Bruised armed and scattered, I write this song.
Scene kid fucked off benzo,
Streets filled with the dealing of dope,
City with headspace and bodystoned.
Ketamine, Codeine,
Morphine, Tryptamines.
One more set of amphetamines,
Breakfast of caffeine and nicotine.
Heroin, opium, now I need some Aspirin.
Ritalin, Vicodin, Mescaline with Mexicans.
DXM, Valium, all these fucking hallucinogens.
Blacking out, flipping out, needle full of adrenalin.
DMT, LSD, GHB, Ecstacy.
Shitty speed and nosebleeds,
Diet of weed and peyote,
Half-way through this fucking sheet!
Smoke that shit, smoke that crack.
Hiding all the needle tracks.
Feasting on bunch of tabs,
I just got another ten-stack!
What's in the vial?
I don't care.
Zombie style,
Smokin' gear.
MDMA,
LSA,
Cigarettes,
Prescription meds.
Magic mushrooms,
Railing cocaine,
Methadone,
Feed me Novocaine.
Wheres my stash?
Need more hash.
I'm on everything,
I'm fucking trashed.
Stimulants, Depressants,
Fucking inhalants,
Too many psychedelics,
Find me some narcotics.
Leaving with a bottle,
Coming home drunk,
Fingering crystals,
Feeling fucked.
I'm gurning,
I'm candy flipping,
Powder, bong, needle, joint, pill,
Anything to get me tripping.
Pulling cones, red eyes.
Coming down, glazed eyes.
Got fired from work for looking wrecked,
Need to stick to legal highs.
Weekend on salvia,
Weekend on datura,
Medic addict,
Find me liquids.
Losing weight, more sleep.
Wake up with hangovers and my memory gone.
Buzzing like fuck, less sleep.
Bruised armed and scattered, I write this song.
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