Coldness in the air

He Just Lost his Legs.
A Very young pretty Human being.
He Almost Lost his dick too,
Luckily the Trauma of the car Crash Only Made Him Loose His Left testicle.
Not Quite Castrated you still Have A Sex Drive.

It Is also known that a form of Torture is to sever Someones penis While Allowing the testicles to be  intact.
The Individual while experience intense Sexual Frustration Without ever have a form of Release.

He wanted to masturbate very bad, but he also lost his fingers.
He did not lost his arms, But they looked grim.

After suffering a week of not being able to feed himself or to wash his ass.
Ugliness and clouds. And The Air Smelled More Cold Than ever.

The Blisters on his fingerless arms Healed.
He managed to urinate by himself.
He Sat down on the toilet, In the Hospital, Dim Red Light, Shedding Underneath The Door And through every Dead Crack on the lifeless cold Wall.
That  has witnessed so many others cry and die.

Still With a couple of blisters In the fingerless stumps. While sitting down.
Started to cry.
Spat on the the stumps
Fingerless and frightened.

With Horrible Pain He Rubbed and Rubbed his dick.
More and more. A couple blisters burst but he didin't care

I love you too.

In the heat of passion, you Were Bleeding.
Actually more like Dying. Dying and Bleeding sound so Close anyways.

An artery from the right side of your neck Was Pumping Fountains Of Blood.
You Made the Floor Slippery and violent. Or Maybe I Did? Good Question.

The Air Smelled Like iron, Rust and Cold.
Some Blue too, Imagine Blue is a smell.

You were dying But you bloody weren't dying fast enough.
My Blood Soaked Shirt Started To Get Really Really Cold.

The Mist around my mouth from the coldness was Already Very Heavy.


It Was Cute that in spite of it all you died saying I love you.
I love you too.

Mr Tree

I like To Pretend.

Let's Play A game, it's called Pretend.

So now you Are not Here,
You Are Where I Am Telling You Where You Are.
Just Like  book. Or Some Lame Shit Like that.


The Setting Is a Forest, You Don't know What Time It Is.
Its Grey, The Sky is Grey, The Grass Is Wet.
It Feels Cold on Your Skin and You Feel Lonesome.
There is Lots of Pine Nettles on the ground,
They are Dead, and when they die they turn red before they Decompose.
The Earth is Red.
There is a very very Mild Rain, Like floating Drifting Water.
It's Very Misty so You Can Barely See Past your Arms length.

There are some plants, That Feel Afraid of you.
When you touch them they Will Contract Like Scared Animals.
I've Seen them, They Exist.

You walk Around only with some briefs.
You Barely Have Clothes on.
Its a bit Cold But the Mist Comforts you and Makes You Feel Alive.

You have a candle in One Hand Sheltered by some Sort of Wind Shield.
Some Metal Crafted thing that looks Pretty and Has Glass on every side.
It Is Made out of Some Kind of Brass Looking Thing.

You thought you went insane, And very likely you did.

A Tree has spoken to you.

The Tree Said that he couldn't understand humans,
That everything had a balance on existence But Humans seem to Override that Pattern.

The Tree told you that humanity were a bunch of greedy overly Neurotic Monkeys.
The Tree's Voice had such a deep voice.

You hugged him anyways.


In  a bit of rage you got a knife and carved into him "I <3 You" while the Tree Screamed.

The Tree had no arms so it couldn't defend itself.
Good Bye Mr Tree, You give him a last hug and then you stumble in the mist and cold.

Crawling Into You

I was all lost, My Keyboard looked all Mean.
And it Looked Like it was Making Fun of Me.
It Said that I wasn't a complete Human.
That I Was Pathetic In the eyes of God.
But It Was A senseless Device Telling Me What To Do.

I Smashed it into The Ground.
And Stepped on it so Hard My Beloved Cat Was Afraid.
Pieces of Plastic Splashed all over.
There is some some kind of Plasticky Circuit Board In it, Where Your Keys live.
Have you ever tried writing without a keyboard?

Thats actually half a lie, since I couldn't write this without a keyboard.
But Have you ever tried to Write on a keyboard Split in two?
I have, It's Hard.
It's a Friday night and she is away.
Which Means you are fucked for a couple of days.
Then Tell Me who is alone or Isolated.

I didn't Wan't to work but the feeling that I didn't have to Comforted Me.
I was on a privileged place.

I just wanted to be in Love, Nothing else mattered.
Well of course stuff matters. You can't always lie about you needing Shelter, Food and Compassion.
Maybe you have dreams, Maybe you wanna party, Travel the world, Be high, be a performer, A filmmaker a musician, a never ending etc.

A something to Justify you. and you being you and to justify what you are and what you feel. Something small to Make you feel Better Than a Piece of Meat That it Exist Just for the Sake of Existence.

Cockroaches Roamed into my mouth.
Crawling into My Mouth As I Slept.
Heart Broken Eaten out By Parasites.


The warmest parasites of the world.

Area 1 part 1

Area 1

Part 1:

It Was Always Dark. The Season was the fall.

I never woke up before twelve in the afternoon, So by the time I was ready to Face the World, it was Already Dark outside.

I remember that If it Wasn't Dark, it would be very cloudy grey and rainy.

It wasn't cold enough for you to completely hate to be outside, or cold enough to kill you if you went to a black out stupor.

-

I Was living alone, My roommate just left.

I hated his presence, I hated talking to him, I hated to interact with him.

He Made me feel Dirty, Because I wasn't doing what I was supposed to be expected to be doing.

He Was Everything I didn't want to be, But he Wasn't the first to do so looking back.

He wasn't an evil person but his lack of passion bugged me greatly. 

He Was a Good Boy into Business School, That Wanted to have a Good Well  Paid Job to Buy Him a Whatever Narrow Minded Crap He Had in mind, Start a Family, Having Children, Have your trophy wife and then Nothing Until you Reach middle age and you Blow Up your silly little Brains Against a White Wall Making a Picasso Out of Your Brain Meat.

I Just Remember how Everything I did Was A Threat to His Conformist little mind.

I was so Glad when he left.

His lease was up and I had the whole floor for Myself. A two bedroom apartment in the second floor of a boring cold city.

By this Time I was already done with College.

Very Shortly After being done with it, I was In this Shitty town, With a stupidly low amount of people.

That Means that you will likely meet less interesting people just for the amount of people congregated in one place,

And After you do meet people that you actually want to interact, You Discover that they are also kinda tied in a horrible way with simple life stuff. which is understandable.

But those were the like 4 ,5 humans you liked. and if they where busy in this stupid random nowhere. 

You are all Alone.

My Routine Was Simple.

I was Done with College, So I only Stood in this place for little.

About six months before I moved out to Somewhere less Depressing.

 My Roommate was gone Which Gave me a lot of freedom.

I did have a Job, It was a nice job, A Night Job of course.

I was a Camera man at the Horse Tracks.

Three days a week. Thursday, Friday and Sunday Nights.

Monday's in The Summer. 5:00 to 11:30pm.

Earlier on Mondays I think.

Without School, or plans or anything. I was terribly Bored.

I did always have a plan of becoming a Musician, Performer.  None of My Terms Came to be so I did not do so.

I knew that I was Moving so I let me to have a break. (Time Wasted)

Since i didn't want to be a mediocre act.

I Always Tried to Make Art. 

Music More than Anything Else. But With no Realistic Fruition.

You couldn't really interact with friends since the city was so small and everybody lives in their own private hell.

You could only expect them  to be drinking buddies since their Life was too busy. 

Doubts and fear.

Hey love, Do you think the world hates me?

-Of course darling, the world hates us all equally.

Why are we here love?

-We are here to suffer love.

Why are we here to suffer?

Because we are.

And why do we are what we are? 

A universe of doubts and fear.

Then The Universe Must be stupid.

_how Can something so complex be so messed up?

Because we are fucking dumb mammals, Isn't that obvious to you?

I think you are right, I think we are just flesh and blood, And We Can't Understand Each Other.

I for Instance Stopped eating. You Must know it.

I know love I know Please Hug me. it's ok.

It's ok, It has to be ok. It Must be ok.

Or else we are going to Ernest Hemingway Each other.

I'll Leave you with This.

Death Feels so Warm Coming from you.
It Gently Touches My chin and My Cheeks.
And Feels Warmer that Any hug or Caress I Have Ever Had.


Then is rest, Floating without Caring into Nothingness.
Like being in a warm pool of water by yourself.
With only your thoughts stopping you from greatness.

The doctor said you were a bit too anxious.
Had to prescribe you with benzodrines.
After a nervous breakdown caused by alcohol withdrawal syndrome.

I saw life like I saw a steak, fibers interlacing with tissue and bone.
Dirt in the ground filled with minerals to have vegetable life to live in.
To Serve as food.
For Our Food, For Your Food.


It's 4:20 am in the Morning, Like it always is.
I don't want to go But ill Leave you with this.

Have No Pain.

Swig Your Penicillin With Wine.
Nobody has to Know That Your Heart Is Broken.
Nobody Will Ever Know.
Having Emotions Is a Liability, William Burroughs and Bukowski Warned me.
But I Just Wouldn't Listen.

I envy My Cat.
She never seems to have any Issues, She lives day by day.
But when she loves me she does by not expecting anything back.
I'm not trying to say we should always expect something from someone.
Im just stating that my cat has more emotional wisdom that i do.

I don't know how you are feeling but I get the little signals from everybody.
I've been trying to be sober, I'm a recovering existence escapist. They also call them alcoholics, drug addicts and some people play fucking dnd. Everybody has their drug,
To escape a meaningless existence.

Don't get me wrong.
Nietzsche would punch me in the face.
Im am not a nihilistic person as the vast majority of society will think.
I just think humans in mass are disgusting to serve  evil purposes.
Thank you sick fuck Freud, Special Thanks To Edward Bernays,
Dicks.
Life Doesn't have to be meaningless as long as you make your own purpose but never have that purpose to be dictated.

I believe that you can create your own meaning and that a human life matters. And That emotions are what makes you you.
It pains me that so many people don't want to understand that they are a big part of a fucking cog machine.

Luckily enough I had surrounded myself with people that don't want to be controlled or subdued.
It Sucks when you have to shallow your pride, Because that is the only spark of life that actually might matter.

I still have some plans, I won't die, I refuse to die, I might hit Nietzsche with my dick in my dreams.
Did you know he masturbated naked in tables in front of everybody? I read a book from someone recalling meeting Sartre, Apparently he did the same......


Maybe I should just listen to Camus He didin't masturbate  in public  in front of everybody as far as i know.
Like i might Have.

The Duchess Frog

I was talking to a frog in the brink of madness.

I told him his existence was doubtful, I told him he didint exist.

He or it was a very sad frog. Just like the one in "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland"

He said that i shouldn't have my dick out even thought it was raining and everything was mean. Pouring painful Rain.

I told him boldly ." You are not the fucking boss of me you fucking emo frog".

I went inside,  the duchess was still powdering this baby on pepper over a cauldron. The baby as the story goes became A baby pig.

My dick was out right? I won't do anything that talking frog tells me to do.

There are plentiful ways I'll be an Slave but in my imagination, mind and soul I'm free and I reign supreme.

I went out I pissed on its silly face. It was so cold. I was soaked in the rain.

The pig baby ran by me towards my leg.

I was aiming all along to the frogs left eye I felt like an imaginary bully.

Betrayal And Suicide.

It's A Saturday Morning And I'm Sitting naked Alone on chair.
The Light Coming from my window is very blue, The Air is Very Cold And Dry.
My Cat is In Heat and She is not Mutilated yet, So I can't Quite Peacefully Sleep.
I Don't Resent My Cat She is Quite A Charmer.

I Wonder What Should i Write About With My Purple Stained Mind And Mouth From Wine.
Then I try To Think About Suffering to Keep me writing.
The first 3 people that come to my mind when I talk about suffering is Joan of Arc, Oscar Wilde and Jesus Christ.

The first one was Burnt Alive Because She Believed in Her Cause.  She Had The Coolest Dead if you compare it With Jesus and Oscar Wilde.

In Fact If you Where Burnt at the stake you would actually die Very Fast.
Sure You Would Have an Unbearable pain in Your Legs While The Fire licks Your Thighs.
But The Smoke Will Suffocate you. Humans Don't Tend to Last Long Without Oxygen.

But Now If you want to get Hardcore on the suffering part.
Oscar Wilde Died Alone.
In A Cell Out of Sadness and Betrayal and Injustice.
Love "That Wasn't Supposed to Be Killed Oscar Wilde"

Jesus Was A Pacifist, I Just Can't Believe That such a positive HUMAN Was intruded and tortured so much.

Nelson Mandela Was in Prison for Like 12 Years right? For the Crime of?...

Jose Mujica, The  Governor of Uruguay. And Old Dude, Was In not only Prison, Solitary Confinement for 7 Years.

Words.

Hey Darling you Wanna Know a Secret?

It might Hurt you Forever, Words Can Be Very Harmful.
Words Can Break Your Heart.
Words Can and Will Haunt You.
The Echoes of the Words Could Still Haunt You Even After You Thought They Were Forgotten.
Like A Song You Have Stuck In Your Head.
Words Can Make You Feel Better,
But Words Can Also Make You Cry.
Words Can Make You Stop Caring.
Words Can Inspire you, And Make you Feel Loved.
But Can Equally Destroy You.

Sentence After Sentence If Well Thought of Can Change the Course of  a Life.
I have seen it. It Has Happened to me.

I have a Theory that emotions can be Translated into things or Ideas.
I have A Belief That you can Transmute What You Feel Into Whatever.
As long as You feel enough.
A Good Musician, A Good Cook, A Painter.
My theory is that Art should Make you Feel.

Anything. What's  That Doesn't Matter.

If It Can Make you Feel Something It Has to Mean Something.
Emotions Mean It All.


It Doesn't Have to be a Way to Make yourself Feel  Smarter.

I am what I feel and I'm Full of Doubts.

This Little Piggy.

This Little Piggy Had Legs,
This Little Piggy Did Not.
This Little Piggy Went to to the Market.
This Little Piggy Cried Himself to Sleep.
This Little Piggy Was an Obsessive Compulsive Masturbator.
This Little Piggy Decided To end His Futile Meaningless Existence.
This Little Piggy In  the brink of Despair. Chopped of His Penis, (He thought of it a lot)
This Little Piggy Endlessly and for Sure Was Alone & Went Insane (Not sure if this is grammar)
This Little Piggy                               Is A Blank.
This Little Piggy &  In the heat of Passion. Went Insane.
This Little Piggy                              and The Futility of it all Ruled Among Us.
This Little Piggy Carcasses?
This Little Piggy Reality Became a Truth and He Discovered That He Was bred to Become Food.
This Little Piggy,You Thought About That Little Piggy Didn't You?
This Little Piggy, Gave You a Hug and told you That he loved you.
This Little Piggy, Cared About Existence.
This Little Piggy, Hugged His Cat.
This Little Piggy, Doesn't Know.
This Little Piggy, This Little Piggy Overdosed.
This Little Piggy, Went to Bed
This Little Piggy, Stopped Caring.

Throwing off Knives In The Train tracks.

It wasn't a particularly sad day.
My friend told me her bag was full of knives.
I thought. (Are you fucking insane?)
Well not only knives, there is so many flavours of them. , Scissors. Shaving blades. Cooking Knives. A strange impaling  Cross. That Last one was me.

The atmosphere had a taste of Dude what the fuck??
But it wasn't my friends fault.
And i Can't Judge.

I hummed a song.
We took the knives out.
And we threw them away.
One by one.
It Felt so Ominous, Like an ancient ritual.

The reason, the excuse was that her pathetic ex boyfriend, was cutting himself very badly. So She had to hid everything sharp.
There was a bed where he laid, Covered with blood from small cuts.
We all decided to leave.

I just don't oftenly think about myself throwing blades, to the train tracks.

A knife in the rain.

The Malevolent sky, Roared at us. While we were kissing.
Close to the shore of that empty River.

Our Hearts were torn apart by a cloud of sadness.
and my soul wanted to escape,
I had a knife hidden in my shoe.
 (Not like you really need a knife, you can always chew off your tongue and choke on it to death)

I wanted to murder you, Everything that is you, and makes you you, and its a part of you needed to die.

But my love couldn't hurt you.

I took off the knife of my shoe. I pushed you away.
It began to rain.

I cut my face.
Blood came out. and then you started to scream.

Are you fucking insane???

She hit me on the the face, The knife fell on the ground.
She took the knife.
The rain was so heavy.
and then she stabbed herself.
She was speechless, and breathless as you would be after stabbing your right lung.
A trail of blood mixed into the water, fell into the rain into the sewer.
Your speechless humanity became an object.
You ceased to exist.

I hugged your lifeless meat. and sat on the rain.
I began to sing Mr Sandman.... Bring me a dream.

Monkeys Painting

It's July 2015 I think, 

A monkey with a paintbrush in a field. Nothing in the near distance but despair.

The monkey paints a face, the face of a woman that was disfigured by a sour lover. 

It is dry it is mean. The setting is a desert   Where you can barely breath.

This woman is whimpering, her love of her life betrayed her.

Her scar came out of passion. She got a knife one night. Trying to prove in anger that she was more than a face. Trying to prove she was more than meat. More than the un betraying dog. 

Very unholy in a moment of tragedy it happened.

Very deep, close to the bone. 

You thinking and worrying about nerve damage. Worrying if she can smile again.

Fell to the ground. Splashed and spotted the cold hard mean sand and the heat. Heat you could almost touch. Fucking meaningless sand blessed by despair.

The blood drips on her disfigured  face, she is beautiful no matter what. 

She relieves herself of this martyr doom by grabbing a scorpion.

Then the heat rots her away

Puppets

It was a Saturday afternoon, except it wasn't a Saturday it was a Sunday I believe. And it wasn't afternoon. Perhaps it was.

I was reading this cute story about sexual offenders and socks. 

Really cute socks you would say, they had buttons sewn into them so you could attach some silly emotion to a lifeless piece of cloth. And sometimes they would talk too. 

Of course some large mammal would have to sodomice its  cloth entrails.

Picture a teddy bear you rip out for no reason. And inside is full of gore. 

Halloween lips made by your inscision smiling. It's just a gory wound. A smiley one.

Entrails fall into the ground. 

This happens of course since this individual got a kick into putting gore into kids toys. Sometimes his dick (most of the time)

But he was very well off. Money was just showering him. But he was so sickly bored.

He was just so bored and dude (dude is a term when you express brotherhood and you strip down authority from writing, you mostly say it to friends I guess. nobody says dude in writing wtf? Wtf falls in the same principle. What the fuck. Same principle applies.). 

This particular guy  though of himself to be an explendid ventriloquist:

He was the shit walking on pants you dig? Untouchable messiah like wise.

Night after night after night after night after night.

Master success. Then his fucking puppet took control over him. It would go like this.

Hey flippy( that's the name of the puppet I guess) how is it hanging
-Hey Herb How are you Doing? Why were you crying and masturbating last night? Why do you always masturbate when you Cry?
-This is not the act we planned Mr Flippy, You are embarrassing me in front of all this gentle people.

_It happened more often. It was often more brutal and humiliating.  There was this time the puppet made him wear a dress at gun point. They were in a hotel room before this show, it was a big event since it was in a casino. A car show had happened during the day, He was going to open the show before some shitty country singer went on stage. He was supposed to make them happy. But he had a gun pointing on his neck.
To the people on the crowd he looked so cute and messed up. It looked like his puppet and him were hugging, Hugging through the whole show. They must love each other. The tear marks on his face didint look as bad as he was intensely trying to make it look like an act for the people.
It was all ok as long as it was all an act, So he acted his way through, Took the slaps, Was a model for ridicule, Spirit broken, Heart taken. The act was over.
Punishment was over, His lipstick smeared all over his cheeks, Red face after receiving slaps after slap.


Back in the hotel, The lights where off except for a couple of candles,  The puppet was sitting on a chair.
The puppet is crosslegged in front of you. Soulless eyes looking into your eyes private void.

You are on your knees, Your pink pastel color dress couldn't look more vile. You have a knife on your hands, When you put in on your hands, You see the reflection of the doll in your looking knife.

You look down and your stomach is open. There are the worms of your body, They came out to play.
Your guts palpitate a bit still. And then you smile and look into the moon.

God Machine Creator thing bored monster Mythical Never ending powerful creating thing

It was a dark rainy day, My cat was licking it's Asshole.
I believe it was around 12 pm.... It was, I just Checked.
I looks earlier but I went to bed at 6 am for no good reason.
Like Seriously no good reason.
A Mindless Information absorbent machine so the thoughts replace my thoughts and blend with my ideas.

I took a break from the world for a week.
One Day You decide not to go to work if you can decide that.
The next is a Saturday Morning trying to remember what happened.

I just read this cute book by Kurt Vonnegut you dig? I like How saying You Dig sounds because William Burroughs Said "You Dig" a lot in naked lunch. And The Two are so Happy and cuddly.
 We all should think and feel like William Burroughs. Unless you Don't like the Sexual torture, Sodomy, murder and Pointless hate.  -->" :)" this is an emoticon, It Expresses happiness and or admiration.
This one expresses Heartbreak </3. This one looks like an Anus. "*".

Anyways the story was cool.
It's about this dude that is having a mental breakdown, He is hallucinating very hardcore and bad. His Psychosis was becoming too intense.
He lives in this post apocalyptic fucked up made up world where resources where forced out from the ground and to the air  too hardcore for too long by rulers that disregarded human lives and where full of greed. Funny enough the destroyers of worlds had enormous amounts of resources to vacate the silly planet they called earth. At least In that bloody story.
Lot's of plants, Birds and Fishies died, went extinct. The Sky is grey. There is plastic bags flying all over. It Is Dirty and it is mean. and Its all over sad and grey.

He reads this sci fi book that is addressed in first person and this guy is crazy so he think it is addressed to him.

The story was cool, it was about how the creator of the universe knew he was a machine, Created by someone he didin't know, for the purpose of ?? "monkeys"? No Idea there eather.
This God Machine had no free will of his own. Since He was a machine created by somebody.
This creator machine was bored. So he created earth and humans.
He had the power of creating a human, with truly a free will.
So he created this man, With a free will. and This Human its a very unpredictable thing to the God Machine Creator thing bored monster Mythical Never ending powerful creating thing.

So this God Machine Creator thing bored monster Mythical Never ending powerful creating thing creates other humans and species, But they don't have a free will. They are machines built specifically for the amusement of this guy. Everything was created for him. At least thats what he thought when he almost beats of a woman to death. And Becomes incredibly violent since nothing matters.

I think the story has a happy ending somewhere not quite sure.

Anything I could be but me.

I was fed up with everything, but not.
I am not crippled, So I can't be all fed up. Still the unnaturally of life bugs me.
I am godless but that doesn't bug me.
I am not an atheist. But Still I don't believe children stories.
I Don't believe in your Jesus, Or Your president commander or whatever. There is so much shit now to be  gullible and that scares me. It's not a treat to me but it is for people I love that are more easily suggested.



I wanted to be
something since I was 14. I wanted to be a rockstar. I still do. I Could not find sense in life without music.

Anything I could be but me.

I saw first Mr Angus Young on tv.  Playing guitar. I was 14 and naive, And  when I saw him for the first time on a fucking shitty flea market in Mexico, Some piracy driven sketchy thing.
 I knew I wanted to be that. If I wasn't sure   Mr Iggy Pop Made it dead sure later on.


Im running out of life but not really , Statistics tell you the older you are the less impact you'll have.

What would happen upon my demise. Would I like to be nameless, Raceless, or forgotten. Personally I keep thinking of artist that I envy. Some
Huge examples. Bowie, Reed, Pop, Peter Murphy and all the bauhaus gang.
The Fucking Beatles.


If I don't do anything now, I will die, and Il be Listless. My existence would be forever another cilantro plant in your garden, I really don't want that .


that topic is pretty much done so. Merry christmas.