Glorious ShitAnother Dream-You can make it;Pass through shitTo welcome the divine.********************What kind of mind is this?What kind of perversion?You don't make much sense to me,You don't make much sense to them-You don't make much sense.Return to painting flowers,Name flowers flowers,Name darkness strangeness,Name genius a vile trait.We cannot decipher you...Bend down a little.Everyone needs their audience-Who are you to dispute?Who is it you're talking to?It can't be to yourself!Alright. Now...Everything is illuminated!(I can write my glossaryOf horror and neglect.)Do I love you?Of course I love you,Nobody else still caresAbout the little things,Such as your senseless self.(Yes, I'll make everything clear,The way you want me to.)Let's speak a new language,Let's call man the Head,The alphabet into the globe-The stud of universe.(Of course we are the center,Can't you see?)NowStrip.Stop laughing,Stop writing-Stop mocking me!You are a brilliant little b
MotherA knot deep in my stomach-An unbearable growing painContaining breaths and scars,Momentary intervals of our life's game.A knot in my throat,Choking me before the rise,Depriving us of understanding,Taking away left time.A tidal wave devours my skin,Casting me bare, without a kin-Without the courage this blast to bare,Stolen from time,Convicted to just stareAt every day that passes by,At my lack of bravery,My egoistic past wounds driveSafekeeping me against the onesI should be the least afraid to love.A knot is tied around my heart,Bred inside it for years-For too damn long for me to claimDespite the drain I still have one.
The WriterI am not my stories-Not all of them at least...There is truthAnd then there's fiction.Spare me just this.
HardDo not flirt with Death.He will fuck you anyway.
ReturnIf Time existed,I would not.The face is erased,My eyelids reversedTo form a danceOf dissonant notes.The unbeliever in me,The lioness in me,The crimes perpetratedUpon my life;All these exist-While I could not,Even if I wanted to;Within this hellNo man could breathe,Expand, or love.Take this sigh,This glimpse into my underworld.Step in,Or forever Goodbye.
LoversYou define me.You hold me imprisonedin the snaresof magic unprecedented,under the reign of love.My eyes are wet-and in thisthey're not alone...I want you.I must devourevery inch of you-Before it is too late,before the passion disappearsas unexpectedly as it came.
The Serpent's RevengeFlames protrude through my eyes.The pain is sharp,clear inside my mind.As the smoke escapesfrom my future corpse away,everything is possible.The epitaph stands cold,alone within my life,in memory of fear.I grow into a lionessroaring through my spirit.My soul is for saleto anybody interested.The flesh grows old,denouncing my history.Hanging from a thought,this world I leave behind.I denounce my possessions.From the imposed egoI recognize but fearaugmenting with each loss.Our prisons we buildwith our faked tears.In full denial we screamtowards the unattainable.With hatred-filled fiststhose secluded we attack-Like amoral beastsdemanding vindicationin the name of victims sodomizedin their reign of broken human pacts.
BitterIt starts with a feeling,a flashing memory,a suggestion of movement
It all comes back to me:Faces, dates, facts.It all comes back to me-But I am not there
A teardrop, your handinterchanging genders
Our lives could bethe finest, most delicate,most intricate scenarios.My thighs spread apart,waiting for you.My mind gets rid ofits burdens most unbearable.The music is familiar-And so is your smile
Always promising,never truthful.While I gnaw away the timelost in contemplation,you start another life.As lovers we first met.As foes we diefrom our histories apart-Creators of riddles,friends to no one.
Turning into GhostsWho's that face on the wall?Who's that mirrored mask of horrorother than my own?Leaving the years flowwithout the time to lookinside or outside,we let our livesmove on their own.So drag this carcass on the mud-Smear its facewith these horrid colorsof solitude and alcohol.For of this selfwho used to be my own,I recognize the traitsbut not the whole.
Tulpa and Bigender Identity SystemThe final picture Thanks to all our friends for helping us become self actualized on the internet and in our interaction with the public as the Mistgod-Melian multiple system. Tulpa = hallucinatory autonomous imaginary companion created by concentrated thought.Bigender = A transgender identity system with two distinct gender personas (male/female).
Interviews and Tags About MeRecent interviews or tags questions:1. Favorite movies?Bridge to Terebithia, Never Ending Story, The Fisher King, Harvey, Ruby Sparks2. Do you read manga or watch anime? I watch anime! Lately I have been watching RWBY on utube. 3. Which movie character comes to your mind when you think about me (JudytaDragon)? Oh The Mad Hatter of course! Alice too actually. 4. Best song ever? Dream Lover by Bobby Darin www.youtube.com/watch?v=wVHAQX…5. How often do you read books?Every day, well recently and almost every day.6. Would you rather be sweet princess who is loved by everyone, but quite stupid or cruel queen, that some people are afraid, but wise?Sweet princess, oh but everyone already loves me Heart7. Mad Hatter or dragons?Mad Hatter (grrrowwwwwwwl kissie kissie)8. Your favouriete own OC (if you have any)?I don't have my own OC. Shrug9. Digital or traditional art?both10. You woke up in strange round room. It's very dark. Yo
When I were goldenI walked along an empty beach many years ago. My skin became golden, and I believed I were golden.I collected seashells and gifted them to the tree, before all the blossoms fell. I saw it as peace once.I don't remember exactly when the beach became rocky, but it brings me discomfort to believe that the soft, warm powdery gains were the same grains which grazed my skin and made me bleed for so long...When the beach was no longer empty I began to believe that I could never be as beautiful as the people surrounding me. And oh, how I wish I were.When I was golden I was had happiness, radiance, salty hair, innocence, childhood. But then slowly I doubted the value of my own golden self until, all at once, I became nothing.For many years of my life I was nothing. A grey void. Negative thoughts consuming all that I was, and the hope of all that I had the potential to be.And then something changed.I discovered my love for the ocean, the city and warm nights. I discovered the beauty of ex
The Nord and the High Elf My late mother and I were fascinated with the video game, Skyrim. I'll never forget the day she decided to play for the first time. I looked at her like she was crazy, but Mom was dead serious. She wanted to feel the experience of what was basically another life in another world. A world where you could do whatever you wanted to! I remember watching her pick out her race. She was determined to make a character far better than my Nord warrior. She chose a High Elf, also known as an Altmer, and so her quest began. Backstories My Nord was a mighty warrior. I focused on swordplay, wielding my favorite type of weapon, Dwarven. With that golden shield in one hand and the sword Dawnbreaker in the other, he was ready for action. He had a scar running across his face, so I gave him a fitting backstory. He was nearly killed by a tiny mudcrab, and was so humiliated that he got super muscular and kills dragons to
Memoirs of Thiebault #49 - Voies de fait While my journey through this boring country of Spain was entirely monotonous and sad, save for a few hours in Vitoria, the road from the Bidassoa to Paris was neither. I had a debt to settle with the French customs agents of the Bidassoa; we held a grudge against each other, them because of the cane stroke one of them had received from me, and me because they had had the gall of denouncing me; had I left free rein to my aides-de-camp and the thirty horse chasseurs escorting me, there would have been a violent scene; but I decided that such adversaries would receive a violent beating only in so far as they provoked it, and, to treat them with the importance they deserved, I first wanted to have fun at their expense. Consequently, since my division marched in brigades and I was with the last one, I put my luggage and those of my aides-de-camp and servants in the carriages following the second brigade, so that all
AliveI am a black canvasSmeared with gold and red.