For What It's Worth.

The seconds tick by and I am struck to wonder if I ever existed. I think you have all forgotten or much worse, given up.

How can I fill a page you will never read?

How can you exist if I will never see?

How can you make a promise I will inevitably break?

How can I love you when my insides are cold and fake?

I can't.

It seems everyone's houses are crumbling.

The storm is devouring cement, blood and bone.

Breaking branches from trees and flooding the ark.

Paper flowers sodden and cotton wings rendered useless.

The purple clouds enabling the water works for ever more.

An exchange of words,

An exchange of disease;

There isn't much difference these days.

Wait for the break in the looming clouds.

Water will return to the oceans and

Sun shine will crack the sky.

Dry your wings in the beautiful light.

Spiral on air until you find a better life.

Good Fortune.

" We are going to pick it up, meet us in one hour."

So, we went to the bottle shop to pick up some booze. Got some food. Went to the trainstation. Went five stops down and departed from the train.

Waiting.. Waiting..

I listen to my iPod for a while and get bored. I decied to crack a drink.

Within 10 minutes they rock up and we get a lift to the party.
We arrive and I am very doubtful on my chances of having a good night. The people at this 'party' are all incredibly derro looking.

They wern't half bad.

Time drags on.. and so do the drinks.. It is now 2:00 am and I have no phone, a fist full of silvers, one can of bourbon and no way to get home. Everyone is passed out and I am unable to find a pay phone. So the journey begins..

The air is ice cold and I'm breathing frost. It feels so damn fine to walk in the night. Paranoid at first, weary of the raised voices in the distance, the barking of dogs. Still walking. After walking for around 15 minutes and failing to find any familiar streets I find a couple, passionately kissing against a wall. I walk up to them, apoligize and ask if they know where the train station is. They tell me they are looking for it too and I should come with them.

Walking with them is fun and they are very intoxicated. They both fall over a few times. They ask me a lot of questions about my life (it is a long walk) and out of no where, the man hands me $25.

I get to the train station and I have missed the last train. All of the pay phones are busted. I seem to be trapped here, but I get an awsome idea to use the train gards phone to get picked up.

Over all it was a great night and a fun adventure.

1. Go to party.
2. Drinks.
3. Walk home.
4. Random drunk people.
5. ???????
6. PROFIT.

Cult Status. Pt 1

Strips of flesh hang from rusty hooks in the shed out back. I stand in the hallway. Taking in the smell of stale sex and metallic blood. The site of an array of sharp objects, thread bare carpet and walls in need of a paint job or two suit the site of her cadaver in the corner perfectly.

Legs spread. Mutilated labia. Her clitorous lays feet from her on the carpet, like an over cooked pink pea on the ground. Face turned way too far towards the wall for it to be healthy. The sounds of movement from the next room stir me from my thoughts and I turn away, slightly aroused. Stroking my hand down the damp wall I feel a light switch and flick it.

" Hey, Jonesy, you there man?"
" Yeah.. urgh.. ahhh.." I hear a reply through the wall. I take three steps up the hall, close enough to touch her.. and enter the living room. The room isn't very well lit by five candels in the center. Light flickers across everything in the room, giving a slight strobe light effect. I look towards the grunts and see a small, ghoulish man with blue hair. I clear my throat and he stands up abruptly. Leaving the unconscious girl he was furiously fucking. Is she still breathing..? It is too dark to tell. Jonsey begins to walk over. He looks a sight. Naked. His large, erect cock sticking straight out and covered in dry blood and semen.

" What have you done to yourself? Jesus Christ.." I say as he pulls on some torn denim jeans and a pair of boots.
" Nuffin' man, nuffin'. I'm fine. C'mon I'll show ya the stuff I picked up for ya. It's in the shed." We walk out of the room after he pauses to give the girl a thoughtful kick in the head.


Too be continued..

Anticipate.

And the night is spent.
Spent listening to music, smoking cigarettes and inwardly reflecting. Inwardly reflecting until I can't even look at myself in the mirror anymore.

Consult the dents in the varnish for advice.
Process.
Feel.
Discard.

Grey sky. Blue clouds. Black heart. Exitland on Earth and a peice of my existance left behind.

Orange lighter. Transparent key chain. Red button. See through the white text. To the transparent key chain. Pass that to the dented varnish. Through the varnish, to the grain of the wood.

Silly girl.
Sharp object.
Through the skin to the fat. Through the fat to the muscle. Through the muscle to the bone. It cuts from the bone to marrow.

Today is worth hating for.
Or is it worth anything at all?

Death Bloomed.

When I lost my Black Obsidian I started to feel strange. I didn't think anything of it but as time passed I started feeling stranger and stranger. The shadows seemed darker. The rediculous suggestions of aliens and angry spirits seemed more and more believable. The beat hammering through me was just making it worse. Pure anxiety and paranoia. Unable to escape from these feelings with my Dad totalled in the tent on lsd and pot.



I felt so alone. Everyone I spoke to seemed to be on a totally different level. The feeling was pure disconection. After a few hours of this and the bad vibes getting stronger I decieded to sit by my fire. Building it. Building it. Watching it start to die down and then building it some more. This process continued until the sun rose. Just as pink started to line the sky I began to have deep realisations of existance. Realisations that I cannot express.



The sun rose enough to see very well I saw a field. This field looked very pretty from where I was standing. So miss Conflicted, Experience and I decieded to go take a look. They were still tripping. By this point I was dead sober.



We walked down the slope and reached a small barbed wire fence. Miss Conflicted went over first. The hairs on the back of my neck were already standing up. It was my turn to go over. I really didn't want to but at the same time I felt as though I had to. It was then Experience's turn to get over the fence. She climbed over and we started walking. She then started backing away and wanted to get back to the doof. I guess she could sense the bad vibes too. But we convinced her to stay. I started to feel incredibly animal. This weird primative feeling. Like I could smell fear and sense danger and this really fucked up dark feeling beyond anything I had ever felt.



Miss Conflicted and I started running through this field, zig zagging, laughing, bumping into each other. It was all smiles. Smiles of insanity, we should not have been there. We where some what crazed. Pulled our selves together and kept walking. We saw this fluffy thing a little in the distance. I walked up to it and saw what it was. The corspe of a mutilated white rabbit. Only then did I realise that we were walking over mountains of shit. Everywhere I looked, shit covered the ground. Shit.. and hundreds of little dead animal bodies?

We kept walking on. The vibes just getting worse and worse. We reached the second fence and climbed over. I walked 10 steps at most before I felt certain that if I continued I would die. I saw something.. moving.. in the distance. So I turned and ran. I didn't look back until I was over the first fence, even then it was a look of fear.

Lava lamp malfunction.

I lit this cigarette. Now I have 10 left. That is excatly half. Does that happen to mean I am half way through what it was I was doing?
I don't know. Anymore.
Aparently it is time to go back to 4H. Let them pump me full of all kinds of wonderful brain poison.

You see, they don't understand The Blue or Exitland or the castle with the ocean and grass or my nimbus cloud made of bread that is prone to breakage.
See, here, when you strangle someone there, their throat has the consistency of playdough.
So soft and precious. But see, when you fucking snap it, there is no fucking snap, it's just this sloppy sound of the skin-dough hitting the grass.
Shine on. Sleep on. Shine forever in this sleep.

STOP FUCKING SHRINKING I ALREADY HYDRATED YOU. WHY WONT YOU JUST ABSORB IT AND FUCKING LIVE?!

To scale size of my finger. Stop shrinking.
This feeling is deep set. I am awake in my dreams. I am fucking lucid.

How many more times can it be tarnished before it will never shine again?
In there, they wont understand. They don't know how to shine. Blood stained, tarnished and orange, lying on my floor. It would be better if it was made of grass or bricks.

Put it to your mouth, tear off the end with your teeth, see, it tears off just fine and neat if you bite it on the perferated line. Sparks fly from the flint and metal. Now, suck.
9 left. 9 out of 10. 10 out of 20. 20 from a thin card board box. The box that cost you $9.43. Those cheap fucks round it to $9.45 because aparently every cent counts in this crisis.

Back to 4h where they wont let me have my box or my fix.
9 left.

455 stresses per serve.

I watch it desintegrate and decay. I watch myself in the mirror as I pull off this skin, this mask. Shred it up with a cheese grater. Never again will I "dable in the scenery", as I like to call it. It caused me to forget why I am here. I am not here to please some christian, fake, scene, player bitch in skinny leg jeans and a fringe used to hide the ugly truth. I am not here to be changed. I am here to change the fucking world.

This world..
I sit on the train every night and I look at Perth's population under an ugly yellow light. I watch people's hands. Their facial expressions. The thousands of hours behind their frequently more hollow eyes. Funny how the ones with the deepest frowns are usually the ones with a ring on their left hand.

The beings on the train stare straight through each other. Being in such a close vercinity to them all fills me with pan awful feeling. For me, catching the train is like visiting a friend in the psych ward. It's horrible to see but you still feel as though you have to. I can't help but read into their lives, look into their eyes and see how much they have seen, how much they hurt. I want to help but, would they listen to me? No..
Empathy turns to disgust and I feel it is time to start hacking blindly with a machete.

This world isn't happy. Or maybe it's just me.