| . . . |
[Jun. 10th, 2007~10:47 am] |
| [ | Pillz say WHAT |
| |  pissed off | ] |
A little rant about people riding my ass about things.
I DO NOT WANT TO FUCKING POST. AT ALL. WHEN YOU PEOPLE YELL at me to do it, TELL ME TO SET DOWN WHATEVER I'm DOING be it fun or nice or HAPPY or something I LIKE TO DO. And post. The MORE YOU DO IT, the MORE TIME IT'S GOING TO TAKE. I know you might think it's REMINDING ME, but telling me to "SET ASIDE WHAT YOU'RE DOING and FUCKING POST >O" doesn't really ring my fucking BELL to get me to sit up and do a little fucking DANCE.
All in all I'm going to POST WHEN I BLOODY WELL FEEL LIKE IT. D<
Good DAY to you, sir! |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 25th, 2007~10:17 pm] |
my heart hurts.
it's not your fault.
sorry. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 21st, 2007~10:36 pm] |
| [ | Pillz say WHAT |
| |  blank | ] |
| [ | Boombox is blarin'? |
| | Emily Haines - The Maid Needs A Maid | ] |
We both fucked up on the doctor's appointment this time.
It's TOMORROW, not today.
Woke up at 7.30 for NO REASON. None! Whatsoever! Great.
Today's sucked, being awake for that long isn't normal nor supported by this body.
EVERYTHING is irritating.
++__
There was this horrible place in the middle of nowhere, literally nowhere. You could kind of see dark rusty brown outlines of far away cliffs that were bigger than anyone could immagine, but that didn't matter, 'cause where you saw them from, you'd never escape.
It was this huge prison, one cell on top of another on top of another stacking higher and higher till you couldn't see the top anymore. The windows were made of paper and fake iron, more of an illusion than anything else. They didn't bother to put in good security because if you fell you'd die of starvation before you hit bottom. If there was a bottom. I don't think there was.
And the outsides of the buildings were bleak and drab and made of patched-together metal like the apocalypse had come and gone, and THIS is what was left. Tall spines sticking out of nothing.
There were three of us there, perhaps four, and I've never seen them before. One had black hair, he was kind of tannish and he'd been in prison for ever and ever, and that was why he had the insane glint in his eyes that people would get after being isolated so long. You wouldn't die here, unless you did something bad. Then your cell would be emptied and you would be killed and dropped into the blackness.
The other one was fidgety, kind of a bookish person, who had a breifcase with papers and whatnot in it. He was balding and reminded me of a rat, one of those scummy ones that poke around into everything and are really skittish.
The third one.. I don't know who that was either. I don't even know what they looked like, but they were there, and they were great and looming and it was scary because it-he? would lurk behind everyone and you'd get the prickly feeling like eyes were on the back of your neck. And you'd turn, and it would be cold, and you'd shiver and move on.
We all escaped, because somehow we knew that if we held on to the side, a network of pipes would appear, and they did, and it was smoking something feirce like there was a factory from deep down below. You could kind of hear machinery, and the smoke would burn your eyes and make you choke if you got in it too long. There were lights too, far far appart on the tops of these buildings, and they would glow kind of yellowish. No flickering, no getting lighter, nothing. The smoke kinda hung there too. The wind, well, once you got outside, it stopped. Or, rather, it skirted around everything except itself. Wouldn't touch the haze or the lights or the people or the buildings.
It was really silent, too. Talking was hushed, everything was muted like if you made a sound, something would swoop down and take you away and destroy you in horrible ways, so no-one talked unless they had to, and even then it was only in whispers.
We all ended up traveling along the pipes for awhile, kind of in an eastish direction. I don't know how I know it was east, it just WAS. Because the west was worse, and to the north and south, there was nothing. Nothing at all. So we went east.
I think the shadow guy fell behind there, and we came upon an *insane asylum. Another illusion-sort thing but solid, and it was locked and broken and the windows were all dark and the grates on the windows were rusty and stuck. The huge smokestack was still going, though, even if it didn't look like the smoke it was belching out was moving.
This part didn't last long and it skipped, though I think there was =something= important there. I don't know, exactally. Well, we finally reached the end of the place, and suddenly there was this huge plain, and there, the sky seemed to press down on it, like it was trying to smother the ground there. It was almost too much to stand because it was so hateful-like.
We eventually got past this part and if you looked back, you could hardly see the place we started from. Everything was still settled, unmoving and very quiet. And then we came upon this miles-and-miles wide gaping chasm with a single rope over it. And we went over the rope.
I got across first, and then the guy with the crazy eyes came second and he was almost there when the twitchy guy came up behind him, and Crazy started yelling at him to go back, it wasn't his turn and if he kept going he'd die. So Crazy got across all right, but Twitch didn't. He actually sat up and kneeled on the rope, sobbing out some story or another about how he was wrongly accused and thrown into this godforsaken place.
And then Shadow came up and shot him in the head, from behind, and Twitch kind of stopped talking and his mouth formed an 'O' and he fell, and fell, and then the darkness swallowed him up and kept him from view. And for some reason, Crazy had to go back, but he told me he'd be fine and that I'd see him again some time. Shadow left entirely at this point, perhaps after Twitch.
And I went on after staring for awhile in the dead silence and that horrid stillness, and after walking a bit I ended up on my own **street. But it was still dark, still oppressive, and still horrible.
And I hid under the overhang on the front of my house, curled in the corner near the gutter outlet where a huge pile of rusty scrapmetal and barbed wire was, and I started sobbing.
Then I woke up.
++
*The insane asylum is a real place, IRL. It's very old and there's a factory-sort thing there, with a red-and-dirty-white striped smokestack that you can see from a good distance away.
**The neighbourhood in my head is exactally the same as the one IRL except it's twisted and bad. Very bad. Think of Silent Hill; how that's all normal on one side and horrid on the other? Just like that, except it's been going on since before Silent Hill came out.
__
I kind of think Crazy was an old old friend that was once forgotten but not quite let go. I hope nothing kills him later on. |
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| Enough~ |
[Mar. 16th, 2007~11:04 am] |
| [ | Pillz say WHAT |
| | grumpy | ] |
| [ | Boombox is blarin'? |
| | nobodyknows+ - ココロオドル | ] |
Zai isn't feeling good today.
++
So there was a kid who's face lit on fire in a strip up the middle, and so did his hands, and it looked like he'd been holding an iron pole that was heated up to absurd temperatures. And he told me, "Look. I'm on fire~" And it was odd because he was the Anti-Christ, and then I woke up.
I don't know what THAT means.
__
Leech and I ran out of Naruto episodes. How saddening. No, seriously. xD It made me sad deep down inside.
Near the spleen.
I need chocolate and some painkillers.
Chocolate-laced painkillers. |
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| we are nonexistant |
[Mar. 13th, 2007~02:12 pm] |
| [ | Pillz say WHAT |
| |  happy | ] |
| [ | Boombox is blarin'? |
| | Hellogoodbye - If you wanna.. I might. | ] |
Ahaha.
So yeah. I haven't posted in forever, but that's okay.
I've been...
Busy. Really, really busy, but not in the ways you'd think. I've been.. Happy. Really happy, and I don't know why, but it's great.
There's been some changes. I've been actually going outside the house more because it's.. Really nice out there. Even if it's cold, I just wanna be out there to enjoy everything as it goes by.
There's alot of laughter in the house now too, due to getting my head under controll. It used to be funky, but it's okay now. Really.
I was puttering around on Limewire earlier just to download some more upbeat music and got this one song completely by accident. Hellogoodbye - Here In Your Arms. It's.
..Wow. Great~ And so are all the OTHER songs by them. xD It's all.. Techno-y and sexcellent.
I want to paint my room bright blue. And the ceiling will have clouds, and the carpet will be dark green, and I will draw on the walls to make silly little murals that get panited over in the same week because that's how things go, they change.
Not everything's been good though. I miss afew people, and some of them just make me want to punch something in the face because of the stupid decisions they're making..
But the memories are okay all the same. Take stuff mixed up with the good and the bad, don't just lean for one side or the other. People don't get anywhere doing that, which I've learned, and it's so much nicer to kick back and watch everything with a smile - which I've learned as well.
The world isn't so dark after all.
+++__ h e r e i n y o u r a r m s
I like,
Where we are,
When we drive,
In your car.
I like,
Where we are;
Here.
Cause our lips,
Can touch,
And our cheeks,
Can brush.
Our lips,
Can touch;
Here.
[Chorus]
Where you are the one, the one that lies close to me.
Whispers "Hello, I've missed you quite terribly."
I fell in love, in love with you suddenly.
That there's no place else I could be but here in your arms.
I like,
Where you sleep,
When you sleep,
Next to me.
I like,
Where you sleep;
Here.
Our lips,
Can touch,
And our cheeks,
Can brush.
Cause our lips,
Can touch;
Here.
[Chorus]
Our lips,
Can touch.
Our lips,
Can touch;
Here.
Where you are the one, the one that lies close to me.
Whispers "Hello, I’ve missed you quite terribly."
I fell in love, in love with you suddenly.
That there's no place else I could be but here in your...
Where you are the one, the one that lies close to me.
Whispers “Hello, I miss you quite terribly.''
I fell in love, in love with you suddenly.
That there's no place else I could be but here in your arms
Here in your arms
Here in your arms |
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| Mmn. |
[Feb. 27th, 2007~09:15 am] |
| [ | Pillz say WHAT |
| |  cold | ] |
| [ | Boombox is blarin'? |
| | Hikaru & Kaoru - Bokura no Love Style | ] |
-Slump. Yawn.- Mornings suck.
..Especially since she stayed up till 3 am or so strengthening the wards on her room + reading. If she did it right, time should pass slower, allowing her to get more rest.
..If it doesnt, it still LOOKS pretty, eh?
++
..Yeah, thanks. =3=; Nice to know my work's appreciated, really.
...I guess you're wondering why I'm awake at 9. I DON'T KNOW. ._.; Something went "Hey! You! Wake your ASS UP! Go watch anime till you fall asleep on the keyboard like that one time!"
..And y'know what? That's not such a bad idea.
+_
The Dormouse slowly opened his eyes. `I wasn't asleep,' he said in a hoarse, feeble voice: `I heard every word you fellows were saying.'
`Tell us a story!' said the March Hare.
`Yes, please do!' pleaded Alice.
`And be quick about it,' added the Hatter, `or you'll be asleep again before it's done.'
`Once upon a time there were three little sisters,' the Dormouse began in a great hurry; `and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and they lived at the bottom of a well--'
`What did they live on?' said Alice, who always took a great interest in questions of eating and drinking.
`They lived on treacle,' said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or two.
`They couldn't have done that, you know,' Alice gently remarked; `they'd have been ill.'
`So they were,' said the Dormouse; very ill.'
Alice tried to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary ways of living would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on: `But why did they live at the bottom of a well?'
`Take some more tea,' the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly.
`I've had nothing yet,' Alice replied in an offended tone, `so I can't take more.'
`You mean you can't take less,' said the Hatter: `it's very easy to take more than nothing.'
`Nobody asked your opinion,' said Alice.
`Who's making personal remarks now?' the Hatter asked triumphantly.
Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and repeated her question. `Why did they live at the bottom of a well?'
The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then said, `It was a treacle-well.'
`There's no such thing!' Alice was beginning very angrily, but the Hatter and the March Hare went `Sh! sh!' and the Dormouse sulkily remarked, `If you can't be civil, you'd better finish the story for yourself.'
`No, please go on!' Alice said very humbly; `I won't interrupt again. I dare say there may be one.'
`One, indeed!' said the Dormouse indignantly. However, he consented to go on. `And so these three little sisters--they were learning to draw, you know--'
`What did they draw?' said Alice, quite forgetting her promise.
`Treacle,' said the Dormouse, without considering at all this time.
`I want a clean cup,' interrupted the Hatter: `let's all move one place on.'
He moved on as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him: the March Hare moved into the Dormouse's place, and Alice rather unwillingly took the place of the March Hare. The Hatter was the only one who got any advantage from the change: and Alice was a good deal worse off than before, as the March Hare had just upset the milk-jug into his plate.
Alice did not wish to offend the Dormouse again, so she began very cautiously: `But I don't understand. Where did they draw the treacle from?'
`You can draw water out of a water-well,' said the Hatter; `so I should think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well--eh, stupid?'
`But they were in the well,' Alice said to the Dormouse, not choosing to notice this last remark.
`Of course they were', said the Dormouse; `--well in.'
This answer so confused poor Alice, that she let the Dormouse go on for some time without interrupting it.
+_
From Alice In Wonderland.
http://www.sabian.org/alice.htm If you haven't read it yet, GO DO SO. |
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| =o= |
[Feb. 24th, 2007~05:29 pm] |
OH AND PEOPLE WHO ONLY TALK TO YOU WHEN THEY'RE DEPRESSED NEED A BARBED WIRE WRAPPED POLE UP THEIR ASS.
That's all. D< |
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| MEDICATION |
[Feb. 22nd, 2007~12:46 pm] |
| [ | Pillz say WHAT |
| |  hyper | ] |
| [ | Boombox is blarin'? |
| | The Rolling Stones - Sympathy For The Devil | ] |
Is raping my brain and making me dream of possessed sheep and zombies.
And flamethrowers.
Let's say I went up to washington, and then let's say I got trapped over a BURNING PIT OF LAVA. Mmm.
Not so bad.
BUT THEN ADD IN ZOMBIES. O_O! Trying to EAT EVERYTHING ALIVE.
...Well that just SUCKS now doesn't it. Yep.
..And then let's say that the thing OVER the lava..
.....Breaks. Oh yes.
And the only thing that's left is these wee skinny pipes of HATRED and whatnot. Well that sucks too.
..And it ends about 3 feet before the platform on the other side of the pit.
HAR HAR. I died TWICE before I finally got over there =3= First time in my life that the dreams were like VIDEO. GAMES. sdlkfjkljsdl.
And yes. There =were= possessed sheep. When you lit them on fire, their eyes would start flaming. Alot. ..And they'd try to attack you and INFECT YOU WITH THE TVIRUS OH NOES.
K'that'sall.
[PS. Sorry for the crack. <3] |
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| Double-barrel buck-shot |
[Feb. 21st, 2007~10:39 am] |
| [ | Pillz say WHAT |
| | loser-ish :B | ] |
| [ | Boombox is blarin'? |
| | +_:BECK - LOSER:_+ | ] |
I'm posting for the FUCK of it.
And boy is it hawt. :B Or y'know, something. Along. Those. Lines.
I've had this song.. Stuck in my head, thankyou so much K. It's by BECK.
And I used to listen to it when I was LITTLE. LITERALLY. It was all.. On the OLD-SKOOL radio and wow. xD; It brings back memories of sitting in the back seat singing off-key to lyrics that my parents didn't approve of but ignored 'cause I wouldn't STOP.
Mmm, today is going to be good. Because come on. Waking up at 10.30 to CRACK is one of the best things. Ever.
LAST NIGHT~ We both had a dream, and in it there was burnin' buildings and crap. I won't get into it because it has a person CLOSE TO ME IN IT. Not from this world either. 8D! But he was blind. And could draw like wow.
I leave you with lyrics <3
++
In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey
Butane in my veins and I’m out to cut the junkie
With the plastic eyeballs, spray-paint the vegetables
Dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose
Kill the headlights and put it in neutral
Stock car flamin’ with a loser and the cruise control
Baby’s in reno with the vitamin d
Got a couple of couches, sleep on the love-seat
Someone came in sayin’ I’m insane to complain
About a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt
Don’t believe everything that you breathe
You get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve
So shave your face with some mace in the dark
Savin’ all your food stamps and burnin’ down the trailer park
Yo. cut it.
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(double barrel buckshot)
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
Forces of evil on a bozo nightmare
Ban all the music with a phony gas chamber
’cuz one’s got a weasel and the other’s got a flag
One’s on the pole, shove the other in a bag
With the rerun shows and the cocaine nose-job
The daytime crap of the folksinger slob
He hung himself with a guitar string
A slab of turkey-neck and it’s hangin’ from a pigeon wing
You can’t write if you can’t relate
Trade the cash for the beef for the body for the hate
And my time is a piece of wax fallin’ on a termite
who's chokin’ on the splinters
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(get crazy with the cheese whiz)
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(drive-by body-pierce)
(yo bring it on down)
Soooooooyy....
?em llik uoy t'nod yhw os ,ybab resol a m'I rodedrep nu yoS
[You can hear hear it if you reverse it.]
(I’m a driver, I’m a winner; things are gonna change I can feel it)
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(I can’t believe you)
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(Sprechen Sie Deutsch hier, Baby!)
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(know what I’m sayin’? ) |
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| =3= |
[Feb. 17th, 2007~02:28 pm] |
| [ | Pillz say WHAT |
| | blank | ] |
| [ | Boombox is blarin'? |
| | The Killers - Under The Gun | ] |
it's weird how things can hurt more when they don't happen.
++
The creature has 50-100 arms, all growing out of it's back, except the two normal ones. They all have angry, half-healed incisions across the palms, with one stitch on either corner.
Its torso has one long slash, going from the base of the neck down past the stomach. This is closed, but there are no stitches anywhere on that.
The legs attached to it are useless, dragged along under the bulk of the thing. The hands are used to propell it along.
Its mouth is stitched shut to contain the screams that it would unleash if it was left to gape open.
If the eyes on its palms open, then anyone near it is screwed. The ammount of them gives it 360degree vision, along with a good defence. The arms will curl inwards to protect it, and if one gets cut off, two more grow. Kind of a 'Hydra' effect if you will.
If you get caught with these arms, its chest will split open to reveal lots and lots of teeth. This is where it slowly digests its victims. Their screams are, indeed, the ones it relies on. IF it gets severely hurt it will use these as somewhat of an attack, as all of them at once are loud enough to rupture someone's eardrums.
++
Thought this lovely creature up last night, 'cause we were both bored and wanted something horrific to call our own. <3 |
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| sickening |
[Feb. 15th, 2007~03:02 pm] |
This new 'pink' thing doesn't fit livejournal whatsoever.
++
A gun. A gun. A gun.
That's all he could repeat in his head as he stared into the neat, black circle that held something powerful enough to blow someone's face off with only the most offhanded of gestures. But it was small. Small enough to fit in a pocket, or the palm of a hand.
And it was a gun, a fucking gun aimed right at his face.
"I don't want to." But she did. You could see it in how she stared, how her eyes narrowed despite the pitying look. In how her lips were drawn back just a bit, tongue darting like a hungry animal.
Her hand was steady. There was a gun in his face. Her hand was steady and she had turned off the saftey and there was a gun in his face.
But his hands were steady too. They were steady as he pulled out a cig, groping around in his pockets for a match. He didn't have any. He had planned to buy some more, but he'd never gotten a chance. Would he ever?
She blinked.
"D'you have a light? My nerves are jangling."
How could he sound so calm? It infuriated her, but she carefully kept it hidden as she reached into a pocket over her left breast, pulling out a cheap lighter made out of green plastic. She offered it.
He took it. "Thanks," and then he lit the cig. He had quit smoking two weeks ago but if he was going to die then cancer didn't bother him any. He took a greatful pull at it then let the smoke out from the corner of his mouth.
It hung there for a long time, disappating slowly. There was no wind.
The gun lowered a bit. She was tired. And bleeding. Why was she bleeding, again? Oh yeah. Someone had stabbed her. It was just over her hip, angling upwards. It was a long knife. It had punctured a lung.
Her breathing was rough but she kept herself well.
He offered a slight smile. "I know," But she knew that he knew, and she wanted to so badly.
He fell a second later, and she went to stamp out the cigarette. On a second thought, she reached down and picked it up.
No point in letting it go to waste, she shought. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 13th, 2007~02:10 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | dreams | ] |
| [ | Pillz say WHAT |
| | tired | ] |
| [ | Boombox is blarin'? |
| | CHABA - Parade | ] |
Three last night, one after another. I think it started at home, perhaps on the street in front.
Either way, I'm starting out front because it feels right.
++
It was very dark. Very, very dark, the same physical darkness that felt strange on your skin if you were out in it too long.
The grass looked wet infront of the house, kind of like someone had slicked it down with blood. Lots of blood. And there was a car that had run into something invisible, and the break lights were on and the door was open, and it was emitting the long, highpitched noise that cars do when the seatbelt isn't buckled up right.
It was really quiet too, everything but that noise and the wind. The family was there too, myself, mum, and dad all around. Dad was across the street for some reason, just pacing. Mum was inside.
I was standing on the shortish brick wall that made up an unused flowerbed, and my vision was floating three inches infront of my face. Every time I moved, it moved more and it felt unsteady.
Something happened there, maybe things came down from the sky, but that part's hazy.
I know I went back in, and so did he, Dad that is. We closed and locked the front door. He went out back and my mom sat on the couch.
She never sits on the couch, and the couch never moves from the livingroom to the dining room, where the computers are.
Only one was there, and it was infront of the window facing the street. That's how it was several years ago, but it isn't now. It felt empty.
I just stood in the livingroom, talking. Don't remember just what was said, but it was on the general subject of mental conditions. I was facing the back picture-windows, it's always light in the back yard when you look through these for some reason. The old curtains were there too, ragged as ever with threads hanging down. They felt soft but I didn't touch them yet.
I somehow ended up sitting on the floor with a distorted view of the sky, like everything was kind of pulled back so it was visible. There was a high wind up there, moving a dark block of clouds along at a fast pace. It was a thunderstorm, a mean one.
I wanted it, so I called it. And it came. It came very quickly, bearing down over the house like it was going to tear it appart.
I walked through the glass and stood on the deck, leaving part of myself in the livingroom. It was a split view, but mostly, it was outside.
The storm was rumbling now, and the wind was screaming along with it. But only around me. Everything else was still, unless you weren't looking dirrectly at it. Then it was wild. Real wild.
I raised a hand and commanded it to move, and it did. Commanded it to move again, this time, not east but south. And it did. Then, west, and then back north.
It started rotating. And then everything got real dark, like night decided to drop in for an early visit. There was no control now. The darkness took that away.
Then, the deck was really big. I mean, really big. Standing on tall posts of rough wood, the staples still in them and everything. For some reason that looked like light was shining on it, but it wasn't.
There were stairs leading down off the south side, under the tree. It had leaves earlier, big green ones, but it didn't now, and it looked skeletal. The branches were moving, groping for the sky with twiggy fingers.
I was on the grass then, and a second later, a large garden that hadn't been there before.
The dogs were barking, but they were silent and Brandy's eyes had been ripped out. Dad was behind me, with an old-style grill. He was cooking something. It smelled funny, but not too bad.
The clouds had thickened, and the lightning came in great flashes, lighting everything up to look pale and dead, and it was raining but it never reached the ground. But you could still hear it, and it was loud.
The dirt was saturated with blood.
There were plants now, all in rows down to the fence that was too far away to be an exact replication of Home. One of the plants was on fire, and the blackberry brambles on the distant fence had turned into barbed wire with cutting leaves that dripped.
And the plant was on fire, and I knew if I didn't put it out that it would spread, and it would be horrible, just like the previous war had been, and there would be more screaming.
The house beind looked on with empty eyes made of glass. It was white, reflecting a reddish orange glow that wasn't there yet. Higher up it was cold, greys and blues and black mixed together. The metal chimney was smoking.
And I had to put the fire out. So I spit on it four times. It sizzled, and the plant was burning still. So I burried it. It stopped.
Relief now. I turned and the house wasn't there anymore, to the west or the south, just those fields with the horrible horrible things in them, and the sky was clear to those dirrections, speckled with stars that twinkled. There was no moon.
The fields are filled with wheat. And it feels cold when you're near them, and if you get too close things happen. Bad things.
To the east there were traintracks and a wild area. Trees, more brambles, grass that was dead but still there, and it was hip-high. It was better than the fields, the miserable fields. So I went that way.
The fields weren't there anymore when I stepped on the tracks. There was a city. It wasn't alive anymore either, the residants had left. Maybe afew remained, afew stout ones who had bravery left still.
They were milling around, picking through the wreckage that still smoked even though nothing was burning.
I looked back and the whole thing shifted. Train graveyard, the wind blowing faintly through the open cars and nothing was there. No mice, no rats, no birds, no people. Look to the front again and it switched back, though hesitantly.
The city stayed for about a minute, then disappeared.
There was a train there then, just a sudden but quiet appearance. I got on it, just onto the side because there was a handle to hold onto.
There was a moon, now. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 12th, 2007~12:43 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | dreams | ] |
| [ | Pillz say WHAT |
| |  artistic | ] |
Corpses.
There were lots of corpses hanging from the tree, infront of the old church that never got hurt on the inside.
Ropes.
There were alot of ropes, holding up the gently-swaying bodies with their single fingers wrapped around the dead necks.
Wind.
The wind was screaming all around but it wouldn't touch them, oh no. Even the wind wouldn't touch =them.=
Smiles.
Grotesque. Stitched up to reveal teeth stained a dull red, bits of flesh still stuck inbetween.
They were laughing at everyone who laid eyes on them, and they would remain there. The church would become just as bad on the outside as everywhere else.
++
This has to be a reality somewhere. >/ |
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| Ductape wallet. |
[Feb. 10th, 2007~11:30 pm] |
| [ | Pillz say WHAT |
| | worried/worn out | ] |
| [ | Boombox is blarin'? |
| | Orochimaru's Theme. Again. Dx | ] |
I won't be on tomorrow.
Gomen.
>/
On the better side of the canyon, there's a huge pile of nice shiney books fresh from the library for Zai to read while she's away. =3= Assuredly, she will be through atleast two before the day is out.
..And if not, blame th' phone.
Oyasumiiii.
PS: K. D< Where have you been. It's ..Not like you to be gone for so long. Leave a comment perhaps?
PPS: Sorry for the random. I'm tired. Too much of the outside world fails. |
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| Antiverse indeed. |
[Feb. 8th, 2007~03:18 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | dreams | ] |
| [ | Pillz say WHAT |
| |  nervous | ] |
| [ | Boombox is blarin'? |
| | Toshiro Masuda - Orochimaru ~Fight~ | ] |
Just remembered last nights dreams. It seems the war has finally reached the lower level of the city. It used to be safe. Guess the protection is fading.
The cave is new, too. Well, pehaps not new - just, previously undiscovered.
I wonder if these would be considered nightmares.
++
There was the city again, the big down-town part of it without any people 'cause it was the middle of the night, and huge blocks of the skyscrapers had been torn off since last time to rest in the streets.
I think there were people staring, with golden eyes up in the second or third floors, but they'd disappear if you looked at them straight on. There was certainly someone behind me, but it was more of a comforting presence than the looming, dreadful ones all around.
And I was walking through this place, with something - a sword maybe? It was obscured by mist - resting heavy on my left shoulder. It was dripping shadows that hissed and evapourated when they hit the ground.
Great malice was ahead, looming far above the smoke. It was obvious that it wash ungering for blood. More blood, always more.
Anyone who could feel the thing's emotions could certainly hear it laughing at them, too.
One more step and there was a violent shift, and then I was leaning against a full concrete barrier, knees bent slightly to keep from tipping over.
It was windy. It stung the eyes.
By now the thing - yes, it was a sword at this point - had stopped dripping, and the mists around it had condensed. It looked kind of silvery, always moving about.
The wind stopped, so I turned. The other person was on the right side now, still hanging back. In front was the deep, terrifying darkness that you only get in well-done horror movies. It was a physical thing.
You could reach out and touch it, but it would get to you first, tendrils twining around any offered thing to influance it, pulling ever inwards.
That's what it did this time, and once I and the other person got in, the light - however faint it was -was sealed off.
What had once been a parking garage for a large mall was now a cavern, dripping filthy water into pools that were old and wise.
Memory fails past this point. |
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| There is no end for the inventive. |
[Feb. 3rd, 2007~02:27 pm] |
| [ | Pillz say WHAT |
| | blank | ] |
| [ | Boombox is blarin'? |
| | Naruto >:| | ] |
Don't gloss over the details of life. Ever. Accept them, embrace them and examine them.
Indeed, make them yours.
++
Everything was perfect. Delightful, wonderful, carefully and meticulously set up with the glasses a third-full of wine - a third, because it made the pitch better sounding - and the candles flickering.
She smiled, ignoring the reflection in the hallway mirror as she passed by, going to make sure nothing would be ruined. A knife was carefully strapped to her hip, an unobtrusive thing cased in soft leather. She liked to run her fingers over it.
She was doing this now, quietly tracing the edges of the neatly-sewn container as she stood in the middle of the room, a black tarp mostly hidden by the tactfully-placed rug - it was the same color as the wine, the same color as blood.
A knock on the door brought an eager light to her eyes, wide and alert as ever as she went to let the much-awaited visitor in. She had to step around a bucket, placed where a small table usually was. It wasn't the best addition - but that was all right. It was black, anyway, easily hidden in the dim lights. Maybe that was their purpose.
After she ushered him in, the door was closed with a soft but final click of the lock. She usually didn't bother locking the door - it wasn't necessary. The neighborhood she lived in was safe, respectable. Except for, perhaps, the odd missing person. But, that was always contributed to camping. Nothing else.
They ended up over the rug. The woman leaned in to give him a single, short and sweet kiss. Then she retrieved the knife from it's loving place, sliding it in-between his ribcage right into his heart. Another smile from her - he made such a sweet noise as he slid off the unfeeling metal. She took a napkin from the table, wiping the blood off the utensil of choice, before tossing the soiled fabric into the bucket.
The blood was soaked up, and the excess leaked through to be captured on the plastic. It crinkled as he fell, and so did the laugh-lines around her eyes. She finally found a solution to the problem that always plagued her.
Everything ends, as people say. This time, she would make him immortal.
--
Weeks later, the woman was walking down the stairs and heard a creak. It was from her own footsteps, but she called out anyway, comforting words of how she'd be there in a second, and the routine confession of undying love.
As she reached the bottom of the steps she turned into the same living-room that had bore witness to all she had done. Sitting there in an overstuffed chair was the very man she had claimed.
The corners of his mouth were stitched up in an eternal, calm smile, eyelids sewn open to show off special glass eyes that she had made herself. The real ones rested in a jar on her bedside table. It was on the right side, as the other was for him alone.
As she walked over to him, she allowed herself to caress the back of his hand before leaning in to press a mischievous kiss to his cheek. He didn't move, and the skin was tough, dry and cold to the touch. She had been careful in making sure that he would last a life-time.
Tonight, she would make a special dinner, set for two in the same candle-light that made everything seem so right on the day she'd started her plans. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 2nd, 2007~12:07 pm] |
| [ | Pillz say WHAT |
| | sad | ] |
| [ | Boombox is blarin'? |
| | Emily Haines - Doctor Blind | ] |
Night-times are hellish because there is nothing to do but sit there in the dark for four miserable hours, thinking about very sad things.
The music cuts out thirty minutes before sleep comes.
++
Sometimes she'll carry on conversations with herself, carefully contemplating what the other party might say before continuing on. Eventually she thinks it might be real, and that she might be putting it all off as something from her own head. That's when she'll stop, blink and try to turn her thoughts to something else.
++
Why do people get depressed?
++
Look into the skillet, Clarice. Lean over it and look down. If this were your mother's skillet, and it well may be, it would hold among its molecules the vibrations of all the conversations ever held in its presence. All the exchanges, the petty irritations, the deadly revelations, the flat announcements of disaster, the grunts and poetry of love.
Sit down at the table, Clarice. Look into the skillet. If it is well cured, it's a black pool, isn't it? It's like looking down a well. Your detailed reflection is not in the bottom, but you do loom there, don't you? The light behind you, there you are in blackface, with a corona like your hair on fire.
We are elaborations of carbon, Clarice. You and the skillet and Daddy dead in the ground, cold as the skillet. It's all still there. Listen. How did they really sound, and live--your struggling parents. The concrete memories, not the imagi that swell your heart.
Why was your father not a deputy sheriff, in tight with the courthouse crowd? Why did your mother clean motels to keep you, even if she failed to keep you all together until you were grown?
What is your most vivid memory of the kitchen? Not the hospital, the kitchen.
My mother washing the blood out of my father's hat.
What is your best memory in the kitchen?
My father peeling oranges with his old pocketknife with the tip broken off, and passing the sections to us.
Your father, Clarice, was a night watchman. Your mother was a chambermaid.
Was a big federal career your hope or theirs? How much would your father bend to get along in a stale bureaucracy? How many buttocks would he kiss? Did you ever in your life see him toady or fawn?
Have your supervisors demonstrated any other values, Clarice? How about your parents, did they demonstrate any? If so, are those values the same?
Look into the honest iron and tell me. Have you failed your dead family? Would they want you to suck up? What was their view on fortitude? You can be as strong as you wish to be.
You are a warrior, Clarice. The enemy is dead, the baby is safe. You are a warrior.
The most stable elements, Clarice, appear in the middle of the periodic table, roughly between iron and silver.
Between iron and silver. I think that is appropriate for you.
Hannibal Lecter |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 1st, 2007~12:29 pm] |
| [ | Pillz say WHAT |
| | calm | ] |
| [ | Boombox is blarin'? |
| | Amos Lee - Colors [With Norah Jones] | ] |
Promises: I will stop hating myself.
++
A smile, a little laugh.
An old photograph tacked up to the wall above someone's bed of someone close.
Jacked-up phone bills and late-night conversations 'cause neither one can really hang up, it's always 'you first!' and there never is a first, because the phone dies before either can do it.
Years of memories building up, some sad and some happy but all good.
Faked sicknesses just to get out of work, 'cause it's raining and everyone you know is gathering at the park just to run around in it, just because they can.
Driving in the most outrageous outfit you can find with the music jacked up so you can sing off-key and not care, 'cause the wind swipes the words as they come out.
Failed flower-chains that just end up tossed to the side in a mock-fight which always ends up with everyone wondering where the time went.
Long walks which go in circles, 'cause you're too busy talking to notice where you're going.
Late nights made possible only by good friends and several pots of coffee.
Coffins are for losers - I want to be burried in the ocean. |
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