putting blood to shame

"So, it seems we're both drinking alone.... here's a picture of us that I painted. Now will you come home with me?"

2013 start.

The first class of 2013 went exceedingly well. This is one of those times where the door has opened and you can see down the corridor; only you choose to linger within the frame just to get a sense and smell of what lies ahead. I wonder if anything died ahead. Will there be any horrible smells? Will there be nice smells.
I couldn't decide which face to put on today. I put on at least three or four, I think, because my personality changed at least three or four times. I broke 3 rules and not necessarily inside or outside the classroom; nor inside or outside of this world or in fantasy. I was a bad girl. An "evil" girl, whatever that means. In some cultures, evil means good and good means evil. I think evil has a more enticing ring to it, somehow.

Our new lecturer is very sweet. She laughs a lot though.... and I'm not sure if I should reciprocate, or if I should be worried. Laughter (especially the higher-pitched and breathy variety) can be an indication of several emotions such as: nervousness, intimidation, awkwardness, cheerfulness, over-grown festivity, the habit to attempt ice breaking in awkward situations, a fumbling of topic choices...you see, plenty of things. I fear there are more but I'm no pessimist. I'm assuming she was somewhat nervous though; what, and I would be as well...with seven new and ugly faces staring back at me and relying on me to guide them over a series of rusty train tracks.
We all need oiling. It's been a long break... I will say however, that the writing exercises which are to be formulated at the start of each class are a great way to oil one's mind and especially in the midst of a learning environment. It's nice that a fair handful of us are familiar with each other already, having returned from last year. Today's class was short; but highly effective. It left a huge stain of inspiration on my olive coat.

lessons in meditation

i am the seductress who has long since lived right under
                                                                      her unnoticing glare

she is drawn to my power

I can have the dark queen now

she is drawn to my invisible tug

she tightens,
then releases those snakes around my throat

she comes closer

as close so I can hear her thoughts

she is deep in my lusts

quicksand

the harsh pull is mine now

the Dark Queen is mine now

she releases her breath

like wild and dark berries

and her power

it lightens around me ; around my ankles

she is against me now

but so with me


her powers are stronger than I thought

her smirk widens

loosens my tongue

I let out a shaky sigh

she reaches up

reaches towards me but I am

already against her

her magic hardens around me

she releases a rich laugh

and her words are more powerful than I have ever seen.

Wanna see my pussies? Yes, I have more than one.

...The other eight babies have gone AWOL.

Modernized: Subliminal Messaging, Irony and the Unnoticed

First off,

my definition of subliminal messaging: the silent manipulation of one's subconscious with the marketer's purpose of control towards the actions, thoughts and power over minds in general.
There are different types of these messages, which is why they're so dangerous towards the public and go unnoticed so frequently. We all know of the typical visual messages, such as the words 'SEX', 'FUCK', 'BLOOD', 'DEATH', etc appearing in several advertisements, movies, songs and plenty of society's pollen. There are even images/graphic types drawn in these manners, but altered so that on the surface they remain unnoticed. I figured one just the other day, on a game I played rather often in my childhood and recent days. Super Mario bros. 3 sports the word 'SEX' upwards diagonally, in grass format between the bricks of the underground levels. I need not point out that this embedded word appears in several Disney movies too, as well as sexual symbolism. They're dangerous because although sometimes we may not notice them at first, the subconscious will snatch it them up like a vulture at high speed and store it at the back of the mind, where it will influence and rot one's thoughts and emotions without their realizing. On a childhood level, it is considerably dangerous. Believe it or not, some these days have grown into the characteristics they were silently fed with throughout their lives.

Another symbol I noticed tonight: the frequent practice of focusing on the importance of appearance and what is considered attractive, rather than the general risks of the product being advertised or whatever media is being presented. Fortunately, there are some people in this world who believe that beauty lies beneath the skin and drifting in plentiful rivers of red around strong bone, but there are most who will oppose this idea by saying it's a "save" for an ugly person. Something else that remains shocking to me is that another message is embedded into this one alone. That image is: watch the main characters and drink in their influence on your own self esteem. Don't read this wrongly. I am NOT self conscious, or even depressed at all in this agenda. I just like to point out things that make others think for once. Here's an example:
An ad for a beauty product. Naturally, marketers will sport the cosmetic using attractive girls (who, without a doubt, look just as original as we do in reality) to model them, so that viewers somehow believe they will be equally as "sexy" or close if they buy it. Now let's pretend that the product itself has some sort of harmful chemical in it. If this product is used too much, the chemicals start to define your pores as wrinkles, the natural oils in your skin are washed away with makeup removal, and a high percentage of users obtain some sort of rash or skin irritation. Despite the original idea of wanting to improve their appearances, people will ignore these symptoms by slapping on equally harmful foundation to cover the blemishes and re-apply the original product. Feeling flawless, they're almost invincible in a sense and start to believe that physical attributes are more important than character and fact. Doesn't this seem a little ironic to you? Becoming more of what you consider ugly, for the price of temporary industrial beauty. And all of what you've paid goes to the marketers, who marvel at their cleverness in profit risings, manipulation and power over vulnerable minds. Those minds have been damaged by a chunk of society, so it's as if the generation being aimed at has been thrown into a pit of lions.

That's all I can say for the moment; I'm calling it a night. Take it into consideration, yeah? Even if you don't agree, at least remain open-minded.

Once Upon A Nail

Once upon a time,

   There was a man who lived alone; literally. His relatives had all passed away, but at least he had plenty of friends to compensate with. These friends believed this man was a kind, polite and responsible man and with that, his security grew significantly. After his eight killing, the man decided he was hungry. Bit by bit, he dismembered the body and cooked the cuttings separately in the oven at 280°C fan bake, occasionally basting the meat with the gravy he made from their blood and intestinal fluids. The other uncooked pieces, he stacked nearly on the bench next to him, wrapped firmly in tin foil. He gathered the remaining pink and yellow bones and placed them carefully in a tight-held plastic bag, ready to be cremated and destroyed forever. Then he tipped all the bodily fluids down the drain, squirting a large amount of bleach after it.
Once all the meat was cooked, he arranged all the pieces in separate seal bags. One third, he placed in the freezer. Another third he put in the fridge, and he ate the last third without any difficulty, leaning back in his beloved wooden chair and petting his stomach with satisfaction with the width of his stomach.
It took him exactly eight days to finish the teenage boy off, but upon polishing the very last plate he noticed a roll of fingers. He crammed three into his mouth, marveling at the succulency of the cooked flesh. With the forth finger, he tucked it into his pocket as he carried his plate to the kitchen.
He was overwhelmed with relief; for he had disposed of every piece of the boy's existence except the finger in his pocket, which nudged him teasingly through the fabric as he sauntered down the hallway. Once he reached the bathroom, he turned the shower onto a lukewarm jet and began stripping. He removed the finger from the pocket of his trousers and gnawed on it, as he stepped into the shower. He chewed all the flesh off around the bone, before swallowing the bone itself and flinching. The fingernail proved too irritating to try and chew, so he spat it down the drain of his shower, smiling as the soap suds followed.
That nail will be lost forever, he thought gleefully.
But it stuck on the way down, latching onto globs of shower grime. It stayed there, lurking and waiting in the dark until the police arrived eight days later.

...

life?
it is as it is
as it always has been in the ocean of hour

i am the black sheep
but without a shepherd ; and i will wander whatever
plains i want     to trample.

but graze upon no poison cotton lands ; product of white sheep flea
bite me ; for i will not return to herds of hell
my shepherd does not live,
 it breathes in death's frown
you frown upon sunshine, it seems
you can be anything
just as a nobody can slap labels on you
as if you are a jar of expired honey

but for now it seems i AM the shepherd
         and my black sheep shadow; forever following.