tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27390895451007527732024-03-14T13:44:44.112+08:00A Surprisingly Lucid ComaAlastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-16161874505091819582010-08-11T05:45:00.003+08:002010-08-11T05:50:55.347+08:00CalypsoSteel creaks and<br />Wood bows<br />Mighty ships<br />The ocean throws<br />Who would wonder<br />Who would know<br />The terrible creatures that lurk below<br />You're a first class monster<br />A deep sea disaster<br />A calypso god-send<br />Satan, Master<br />Tentacles and horns and the eyes of hell<br />Beneath these murkey depths<br />Calypso does dwell<br />I saw him kill<br />It was Satan's will<br />And in Satan we trust<br />And who would know better<br />To indulge in chemical lust<br />More innocent blood is shed<br />But not at a loss<br />Into my mouth they bled<br />The Satan inside<br />Hell fire redAlastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-28701628075140817402010-08-11T05:44:00.001+08:002010-08-11T05:45:40.494+08:0003Chop chop chop<br />Buds blaze and<br />Lungs rot<br />I'd remember yourself alive<br />But I keep forgetting I forgot<br />And if I were to stop<br />What would be to remain?<br />Trying to refrain? Stirring from realizations<br />Of what we have and haven't got?<br />I'd rather not<br />Stop<br />Chop chop chop<br /><br /><br />:'DAlastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-13134370630524609202010-08-11T05:39:00.002+08:002010-08-11T05:44:18.263+08:0002Chain smoking at 10:30 o'clock<br />Bottles empty<br />Filled with writers block<br />Unhealthy like the resin<br />You stoked<br />And it's not easy<br />I think my heart is broked<br />I could sleep down at the beach<br />But I don't go there<br />Sobriety is too far out of reach<br />I could fall in love with you<br />But I think not<br />I think I loved you once<br />But I forgot<br />My coffee is cold<br />My wine is warm<br />And I couldn't care<br />That I'm still awake at dawn<br />I could care, but I'm too high<br />Now there's nothing left<br />But moonshine raining from the skyAlastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-81658807739226707912010-08-11T05:32:00.002+08:002010-08-11T05:36:42.918+08:0001There's plenty of fist fights<br />A frosty city night<br />Damn, look at her<br />I bet she's tight<br />Niggers be everywhere,<br />Throwin' their fists<br />Everyone's dying inside,<br />Cutting their wrists<br />The dystopia of the future<br />God rape the Queen<br />Floatin' like a ghost<br />Injectin' hero-ween<br />This is the future<br />And we're all dead<br />Ten year olds dressed like whores<br />By twelve they'll be givin' head<br />Guns cock<br />And bullets spray<br />Bodies fall<br />A blood soaked new day<br />There's no place to rest,<br />No place to hide<br />Find somewhere safe<br />To watch the sun rise<br />This is the future<br />And we're all dead<br />I beg to differ<br />It's all in my headAlastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-44513622199698522822010-05-11T04:22:00.002+08:002010-05-11T04:25:00.580+08:00Another poemA dream, a glimmer<div>A hope, a flicker</div><div>Moonlight wont hold, </div><div>Hold you no more</div><div>Star shine, moonlight</div><div>The space between,</div><div>Meaning</div><div>And life</div><div>I am nowhere tonight</div><div>A motivation,</div><div>Too much is unwritten</div><div>Clarity and fog,</div><div>Are just the same,</div><div>When anything is everything</div><div>And I'd be lost without</div><div>This tobacco and flame</div><div><br /></div>Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-88409177790976419652010-04-08T18:41:00.003+08:002010-04-08T19:06:29.499+08:00Summer is over but it wont fuck off.The soft autumn scent of another desolate morning. The sunset full of dread marks a turn in time. The nights are long, sleepless and the dark never dulls the stains. When another dead sun rises, faint relief rises in my heart. Sleep may come, bringing with it fitful rest and unwanted vivid dreams. The dreams are terrifying and I wake up ill and shaking. The house is always empty and quiet. She is at work and the doors are locked. I am safe. But then come the terrible things beyond my nightmares, the roots of them. Pure, blinding, white-hot emotion, numbed by the fact that I can't feel that many negative emotions at once.<br /><br />So I had this dream, I was talking to my Mother. We were at my old house from a few years previous, sitting in the back room. I'm quite sure I was high. She was wearing a loose fitting blue shirt and black pants. Sitting on the computer chair. I jump up and shock and start firing questions at her. How are you here? I thought you were dead? How can you be here? Have I been asleep for months? You're dead. You're dead.<br />She begins crying and saying. Why would you think I'm dead? I'm not dead. I'm not dead. I'M NOT DEAD. She begins to get very angry with me. Crying. How can you be here? I have your ashes, if you are here who's ashes are these? You are dead. She just gets increasingly angry and cries more and shouts more. And for a second I almost believed her.<br /><br />I do not know what this is meant to mean and I do not know if it means anything at all.Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-49826878738570180232010-03-27T18:18:00.002+08:002010-03-27T18:25:01.368+08:00Death Is InevitableThe sky is grey with electric charge. The pure static joy of the clouds. The hangover from the weekend past lingers like soot. The long journey home is mixed with dread and relief. The sweet vodka burn of the longest bender yet, detachment is blanketing. I ride the train for hours at a time, the strangest feeling. " Next station, Karrakatta. " I want to get off here, but I can't. I ride to Perth. I want to get on the Clarkson train, but I can't. I walk from the station and wonder around, buy a drink or two. But even in company I feel alone with my thoughts.Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-35705087217671738322010-03-27T18:13:00.003+08:002010-03-27T18:18:15.684+08:00Public places<span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Moments of hell intertwine their way into our everyday lives. The moment when your head is spinning with sickness, the lights are too bright, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Asian</span> man on one side scoffing down wok-in-a-box or whatever the fuck. Middle aged woman on your right cackling and muttering to herself. You need to bite your <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">finger</span> to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">prevent</span> your hand back handing something. These <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">scenarios</span> and much much more await you at your local <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">internet</span> cafe.<br /><br />The moment when you look at the sky at twilight and realise for the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">thousandths</span> time how alone in the world we really are. The pink tinged clouds absorb you and you wish you could bleed into the clouds and paint the sky red before the sun sets on the city you hate so much.</span><br /></span>Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-79701234333594824642010-03-21T08:33:00.004+08:002010-03-21T08:49:23.533+08:00Fucking tired the fuck out<span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">A night goes by in a blink of an eye<br />Through a thousands moments, they'll all be gone<br />In the morning it's all just dirt<br />It's funny how an idea can be so worshiped and heart fluttering-ly wonderful<br />Just to be messed up like a newspaper left out in a storm<br /><br /><br />Clarity Spoken<br />Drink Plenty Of Liquor<br />It's A Full Days Work</span><br /></span>Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-23229935442003767692010-03-16T12:17:00.003+08:002010-03-16T13:57:55.771+08:00Bring Rain and Red Wine.What is one to do, after all else is done? It's like an adventure coming to a close, what is the adventurer expected to do once it's all finished? I sit under attack of nostalgia. I'm now at a point where I could use this all to completely turn my life around or just sit and sink back into old habits and let myself become over run with bordem and cheap wine.<br /><br />Last night I was talking in my sleep<br />I was discussing wine<br />You suggested shiraz<br />And I was happy with your taste<br /><br />When I see the Autumn leaves<br />Dying slowly on the tree<br />Soon the leaves will wither and fall<br />Giving way to Winter frost<br />The sky sings to you<br />Here comes another great sordid calm<br />All my love<br />Gone<br />Am I lost?<br /><br />I can taste rain<br />And feel it on my face<br />You picked me up on a dark winter day<br />Your car was warm<br />And I expected this to be alwaysAlastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-21434291996637575982010-03-15T04:58:00.002+08:002010-03-15T05:33:03.516+08:00SNOWY : THE MADDEST CUNT<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__MkBIU9tk2E/S51V5AIIAgI/AAAAAAAAABI/1DauerWewTM/s1600-h/17070_325898442039_325896457039_5185342_6578355_n.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__MkBIU9tk2E/S51V5AIIAgI/AAAAAAAAABI/1DauerWewTM/s400/17070_325898442039_325896457039_5185342_6578355_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448605561963151874" border="0" /></a><br />So much has happened over the past week and a half, it feels as though it has lasted a month. In the past week I have lost my home, my possesions and my Snowy (greatest dog ever to have lived.) God damn it Snowy you mad cunt. All to the hands of my Dad. Thanks Dad! You're such a great parent! :)<br />But whatever.<br />I'm fucking pissed the fuck off.<br />This was infact night 12 of couch surfing. I hate this shit. I want my fucking clothes. Bawwwwww.<br />Bludgeon you to death with a claw hammer, take a potatoe peeler to your finger nails, stomp on your cunting head, smash in your half-rotten teeth, poor candle wax in your ugly fucking eyes and shit fucking rageeeeee.<br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">YOU FUCKING PATHETIC WASTE OF OXEGYN DIE CUNT DIE</span><br />*clears throat*<br />It's not all that bad, I'm eternally grateful to some good friends who have let me sleep on their beds/couches.<br />Over the past few nights me and some mad cunt have been watching Lord Of The Rings and I have to say they are some of the best fantasty movies ever. Of corse the books were better but the movies fucking RAPE BABIES AND KICK ASS.Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-47783168519467368202010-03-02T11:22:00.001+08:002010-03-02T11:22:52.897+08:00Vicer Exciser<p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:13.5pt; font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">My monument is progressing. Bereft is thy deed of completion</span></span></span><span style="font-size:13.5pt;font-family:Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">By all means you’ll be alive. But not intact. I’ve sewn your lips to smile.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">With your own defecation on your lips I’ll knock that shit-eating grin right off your face</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Abnormally disfigured designs. You observe the genesis of my abattoir. Reality accepted.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">You have no choice but to comply with my scalpel. And my license to kill.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Anal seepage flowing. I can’t repress the urge.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Thy coprophagist shall ingurgiate the filth.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Grinding at your head with my bone saw breaking zygoma. I love these tools at my disposal. I’m alive.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">She cried out helplessly again.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">I ripped her limb from fucking limb. Just one less slut to walk this fucking earth.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">I will spit right in your fucking face.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">How does it taste after the lips are sealed below your waist.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">You will never fuck again.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">My scalpel gleams. My attention cast aside.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Hardening arteries begging for an inimical thrust. Byproducts of digestion soak the floor.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">I’m searching for a hypodermic syringe to draw the waste.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Flowing in your jugular.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">The heart is pumping faster.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">As I lie and wait to watch you erupt from every orifice.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">The necrotizing fasciitis has commenced its work.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">No anesthesia applied.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">This will be everlasting.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">In the name of anatomy I shall dismember and attain what is rightfully mine.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span> <br /> </span></p>Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-82235724173400258422010-03-01T13:06:00.003+08:002010-03-01T13:26:18.814+08:00Caffeine fueled bullshit adventure.So now I'm home and in this weird sleep deprived, heat stroked, dehydrated state. Feels bad man. The whole time I was in the city I felt like I was in a music video for some kind of shitty band that has shitty soulless music of false happiness and trying to make it sound depressing but up beat at the same time, you know what kind of music I'm talking about. <div><br /></div><div>Didn't see much interesting things, I saw how shit a lot of things are, I saw a lot of hopeless old homeless men and filthy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">abos</span> and crack heads and what not, the usual. I did find a phone on the ground locked to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">telstra</span>, which suits me perfectly. I got some seriously average coffee served by some happy bitch. Just wanted to rape the happiness out of her. Not really.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I had a dream last time I slept, it was pretty weird. Yeah dreaming about meadows and shit again. And today I was walking down the street and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">facepalming</span> at how I used to look like a massive <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">emo</span> while looking at even more <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">massiver</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">emos</span>. I just wanted to start wrecking people. Them <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Lebanese</span> bastards over charged me by $4 for a packet of smokes. Bull shit and etc. </div><div><br /></div><div>Time is short and our breathes will hopefully be shorter. </div><div>Smoking is a slow, pleasurable and socially acceptable form of suicide and I like it.</div><div><br /></div>Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-41147896348208081092010-03-01T07:06:00.003+08:002010-03-01T07:15:01.302+08:0037 degree days in autumn, fuuuuck that.I still can't sleep. I'm about to head into the city for a cup of coffee and a pack of smokes, maybe some breakfast but shoplifting will definitely be involved. Who knows what I'll encounter on this strange Labour Day. The first day of autumn looks promisingly tame.Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-53655757416555877412010-03-01T00:10:00.001+08:002010-03-01T00:14:00.250+08:00Shattered<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 11px; ">Shattered, shattered<br />Love and hope and sex and dreams<br />Are still surviving on the street<br />Look at me, I'm in tatters!<br />I'm a shattered<br />Shattered<br /><br />Friends are so alarming<br />My lover's never charming<br />Life's just a cocktail party on the street<br />Big Apple<br />People dressed in plastic bags<br />Directing traffic<br />Some kind of fashion<br />Shattered<br /><br />Laughter, joy, and loneliness and sex and sex and sex and sex<br />Look at me, I'm in tatters<br />I'm a shattered<br />Shattered<br /><br />All this chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter 'bout<br />schmatte, schmatte, schmatte -- I can't give it away on 7th Avenue<br />This town's been wearing tatters (shattered, shattered)<br />Work and work for love and sex<br />Ain't you hungry for success, success, success, success<br />Does it matter? (Shattered) Does it matter?<br />I'm shattered.<br />Shattered<br /><br />Ahhh, look at me, I'm a shattered<br />I'm a shattered<br />Look at me- I'm a shattered, yeah<br /><br />Pride and joy and greed and sex<br />That's what makes our town the best<br />Pride and joy and dirty dreams and still surviving on the street<br />And look at me, I'm in tatters, yeah<br />I've been battered, what does it matter<br />Does it matter, uh-huh<br />Does it matter, uh-huh, I'm a shattered<br /><br />Don't you know the crime rate is going up, up, up, up, up<br />To live in this town you must be tough, tough, tough, tough, tough!<br />You got rats on the west side<br />Bed bugs uptown<br />What a mess this town's in tatters I've been shattered<br />My brain's been battered, splattered all over Manhattan<br /><br />Uh-huh, this town's full of money grabbers<br />Go ahead, bite the Big Apple, don't mind the maggots, huh<br />Shadoobie, my brain's been battered<br />My friends they come around they<br />Flatter, flatter, flatter, flatter, flatter, flatter, flatter<br />Pile it up, pile it high on the platter </span>Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-78388669693517422572010-02-27T08:39:00.003+08:002010-02-27T09:43:43.529+08:00Just fuck off you filthy cum rags.I've been awake for too long but no matter, there is never any solace in sleep. We live in an age of soul-eating houses, fast Internet and e-cigarettes?! Who the fuck has time to sleep with all of this shit going on. Anti-biotic over prescription and paranoia has got me sick.<div><br /></div><div>Lack of vitamins and no sunlight makes Polly a blow up doll. <b><i>C'mon Polly</i></b>, <b><i>TAKE YOUR CUNTING VITAMINS.</i></b> *foreign object into designated hole* <b><i>D</i></b><b><i>on't you feel a little better now?</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>Time is marked by the amount of buts in the ashtray piling up. I just light these babies up and discard them 5 minuets later. Fuck me if I was a cigarette I'd just love to be consumed with eager lips and mashed into an ashtray filled with my fallen comrades. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-499395388366314452010-02-23T02:30:00.002+08:002010-02-23T02:57:09.782+08:00I'm bored. I feel like I'm drifting through a sea of nothing. I need something to do, to focus my energy on. All I do is sit around my house, spend endless hours on the internet, watch anime, smoke, bitch about how sick I am and try not to drink the whiskey sitting on my shelf.<div><br /></div><div>My sleeping pattern being reversed now and not having a mobile phone have made it hard to even begin to build a normal life again. Or maybe I just lack the want or will to see anyone. Recent events have put a bad spin on the new year, for many of my close friends. I look around and all I see is fuck up after fuck up after break up after raging drug habit. </div><div><br /></div><div>But what is closeness in this cold and desolate world?</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't work. I don't study. Currently, I don't do anything. I take your money, you, the tax payer. I spend it on nicotine and other consumable shit.</div><div><br /></div><div>A plan is born and now comes the day I write a new resume. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-37940411692557649542010-02-17T03:28:00.003+08:002010-02-22T22:01:06.137+08:00I love you, peace and quiet.It's interesting to see just how things play out.<div>I have a few friends over tonight. A few are past out. A few are still going.</div><div>A dragon fly was dying in my room. I don't know how common it is for them to come out at night, it was quite tiny. Quite pretty. </div><div>I went into town today for the first time in a long while. It was uneventful but I managed to pick up a bottle of whiskey, two packets of cigarettes and some wine. I'm trashed. But not trashed enough to forget why I'm drinking again. So really not that trashed at all. Well I feel good. I feel mighty fine, bullet proof you could say. But if you dropped me I'm sure I would shatter into a million pieces. I'm sure I wont feel fine tomorrow, or rather, today. </div><div>I went to the amphitheater last night. It's about a four minuet walk from my house. It was grand . I sat there for about an hour and just took in the wonder of a thousand memories past. It was quite late at night, around 10 or 11, but it was deserted and no stranger crossed my path. Oh damn it was just so good. ^_^</div><div>Fuck I'm wasted. </div><div>Much love to everyone out there.</div>Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-30896067312616203722010-02-15T02:57:00.002+08:002010-02-15T03:48:28.154+08:00Shitty wallpaperI don't have any fascinating, positive stories to tell any of you. I mean when have I ever? I could tell you that tonight the delivery guy gave me free brownies, that I overcame my house binding anxiety, that I quit drugs yet again, that whiskey tastes nice at room temperature, that I found someone to co-sign the lease or that music is wonderful etc, etc, etc. But that isn't interesting and it's insignificant and if you're not ready for some more cop out whining you should press unsubscribe now. <div><br /></div><div>I want to talk about loss and hatred and how much having no decent cigarettes is pissing me off.</div><div><br /></div><div>For one, with loss, you think you've finally got a grasp on it, you think you've gotten an inch of acceptance. And then BAM, the dirt isn't gone, no, bam and you're back to square one and nothing makes sense and you can't even fathom, let alone accept what the shit has happened. The stuff we take for granted is amazing. It's a super cliche but it's so true, probably why it is so cliche, you seriously don't know what you have until it's gone.</div><div><br /></div><div>Secondly, hate is ridiculous. The kind of hate where you just want to leap across the table and stab them 23 times in the throat but you don't, you smile and chit chat just because you want to make that moment of revenge all the more crippling and unexpected.</div><div><br /></div><div>Third, I've been smoking my Dad's winfield blue tobacco for the past hour, it tastes horrific, but it's better than going without. I could buy my own, if I was 18 or at least looked it. If I want to kill my body with nice tasting tobacco I damn well should be allowed. Fuck you Kevin Rudd and all the rest of you pieces of shit up there in parliament, you fucks didn't even make this law, but seriously, fuck you.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-83736086387083253342010-02-11T04:11:00.002+08:002010-02-11T04:16:02.647+08:00Alice PracticeScars, in you, son<br />You shrug it off<br />Except that you don't<br /><br />Better, it surely<br />It don't fall out<br />Said,<br />I live low<br />I lisp, I die<br />Sugar shooting<br />Bled with dead beats<br />Only crawl<br />Your sad eyes<br />Quite christian<br />Blood<br /><br />Drop it, it's dead<br />We drop it<br />and took the body home<br />Sad eyes<br /><br />Scars, I'm chopping dagers<br />See you'll never walk<br />only stagger.<br />sad eyes<br />Quite christian<br />BloodAlastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-71531654298134943912010-02-10T01:39:00.002+08:002010-02-10T01:43:03.940+08:00Sickly Dreams.The sky was grey and green, suffocated by angry clouds. We looked out to sea and saw what seemed to be a sea container half emerged in the strange water. Sloshing fast through the water we reached it quickly, climbing inside we were mistaken, a wonderous structure had been built some fifty meters high. But just as soon as our attention had been grabbed by such a thing a projector had cast a film for us to watch on the wall. It happened to be Titanic. We watched in awe of the surprise. But something was off, the bodies started falling from the top of the structure into the water around us. Torrents of bodies. <div><br /></div><div>Confused, we were suddenly rocketed to a platform at the top of the structure, above our heads was a small opening into god knows where. On this platform were all of our friends sharing drinks and cigarettes, so we stayed for a while until maddeningly intoxicated. Someone, I can't remember whom needed something of what I can't remember, so it was apparently up to me to go and get this thing, it was a matter of life and death. I was provided with the keys to a some mode of transport, I was told to climb through the hole above.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I climb through, pulling myself up I am shocked by a futuristic landscape; a metalic tunnel of lights and car lanes. Then I see it. This car. Sleek and dark blue, the oddest shaped car I had even laid my eyes on. And gosh I was too drunk to drive. I stumbled over to the car and let myself in, it started with a high pitched hum. Entering the highway was intense, the power steering so sharp. The accelerator was so easy to push down. I lost control almost immediately, 1-200kmph in 12 seconds. Shit was flying everywhere. I was bouncing into other cars and the highway walls but no damage was being incurred to the car. I looked out of the window and realized I was in Cockburn. I needed to go there to get the thing. Whatever it was. So I turned off the highway and pulled into a car park, suddenly sober.</div><div><br /></div><div>I got out of the car and was joined by another person, they had no face. Without we walked to the back of the car park into a complex of pensioner homes west units. We crept up to a particular unit and peeked through the window. It was grey inside and it appeared that the old woman was in the shower. We went to the back door and tried it. It was unlocked. We crept inside her home. Walking quickly we got what we needed from her kitchen. As we were about 6 feet from the back door she came out after us. We ran from her house, leaving the weird woman and her grey house behind.</div>Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-58797632993904663052010-02-09T15:02:00.002+08:002010-02-09T15:18:26.578+08:00Winfield Blue Tastes Like Shit.It knots and twists and folds and rises and twists again. Preventing me from leaving the house. Stopping me from answering the phone. Anxieties cold talons are gripping me and refusing to relinquish it's hold. So that's when you get a knife, and cut it off at the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">source</span>, cut it's fucking legs off and tear the talons from my flesh. She was the one that always tore me away from it's nasty grip. She's gone and I'm trying to learn to hold a knife. Trying to learn to live now. Each day it gets harder and I'm sure I'm forgetting everything I've learnt. Where are you now? I need you more than ever. Shock melts away like sugar in the rain. Now I'm left with this empty hole.Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-42003547763649064232010-01-18T15:30:00.003+08:002010-01-18T15:34:20.109+08:00MissingMagic looses it's momentum<br />Like fire on wet grass<br />The reality of death<br />Sinks in slow<br />Like a slow burn cigarette<br />Why should yours <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">flat line</span><br />While my pulse remains<br />Pushing toxins to my finger<br />tips and blasting needless, numbing nothings<br />into my spinal suffering<br />I am a broken leaf nothing<br />Touch me with your eyes, limp and brittle on the pavement<br />Touch me with your fingers<br />I crack and crumble<br />Into nothingAlastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-22193196007391148792010-01-01T14:56:00.002+08:002010-01-01T15:07:01.238+08:00HurtI hurt myself today<br />To see if I still feel<br />I focus on the pain<br />The only thing that's real<br />The needle tears a hole<br />The old familiar sting<br />Try to kill it all away<br />But I remember everything<br /><br />What have I become<br />My sweetest friend<br />Everyone I know goes away<br />In the end<br />And you could have it all<br />My empire of dirt<br />I will let you down<br />I will make you hurt<br /><br />I wear this crown of thorns<br />Upon my liar's chair<br />Full of broken thoughts<br />I cannot repair<br />Beneath the stains of time<br />The feelings disapear<br />You are someone else<br />I am still right here<br /><br />What have I become<br />My sweetest friend<br />Everyone I know goes away<br />In the end<br />And you could have it all<br />My empire of dirt<br />I will let you down<br />I will make you hurt<br /><br />If I could start again<br />A million miles away<br />I would keep myself<br />I would find a wayAlastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2739089545100752773.post-29380725955967312532009-12-10T21:06:00.002+08:002009-12-10T21:36:17.213+08:00The bins that crash in the night.<div>Impulses don't lie.</div>From drunk drivers to match sticks the coincidences cannot be denied. <div>Muffled voices.<b> </b></div><div><b>I just know.</b></div><div>Pyrokinesis, burning the butterfly.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Alastor Deadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09892780955863111699noreply@blogger.com1