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