nine livespeople tell me that to have lived before is to feed your mind in those times when you are not a part of your body. when you float between the barriers of life and death; that is when you know you have lived before. i never dream. but i believe and i wonder about my past. a certain incident [i’ll not say what] leads me to believe that i’ve had nine lives. and i always land on my feet. my pupils narrow, my back arches and i utter my tiny little cries into the night i call home. and i expose my claws and swipe and scratch at any being to dare to touch me.nine lives
in my first life, when i was a new and frightened soul, i could have been a pe
Life\'close your eyes. count to three. make a wish.\'Life
welcome to Life, sir. this is the only department store you\'ll ever need to visit. on the inside of your eyelids are there dew drops? how about flames? can we manage flames? \'hey! jimmy-clean up-aisle three!\' yes, sir, i think we could manage flames. oceans? ripples on a lake? we can do all of that for you. and we can conjure volcanoes and natural disasters. all for you. our customers mean everything to us and the customer is always right. \'would you like a bag sir?\' how about darkness? would you like perpetual darkness? that too, we can do. nothing is too good for you. how a
jack3his mother force fed him with rent-by-the-hour motel rooms and seedy bars filled with sagging middle aged women and balding office workers looking for a good time. tinny sounding songs escaped from the speaker in a mildew-filled corner while he sat under a table and kissed the floor. his mother would jump from room to room, bed to bed, a new man each night while he breathed onto the windows and wrote his name in the steam. his mother told him that she was \'looking for the answer,\' and he believed her. his mother told him that she was \'sleeping her way to god\'s bed,\' and he believed her. she told him she was \'moving towards the light,\'jack3
jack2when his mother was pregnant i imagine her running a cracked palm over her stomach and singing lullabies to him while thinking of all the things he would achieve in life. unaware that he would, one day, lie writhing in pain on a department store floor; covered in his own blood while his chest caved in as he saw a little glimpse of heaven. he just didn’t like what was inside. unaware of the twisted foetus that grew steadily inside of her with the hollow eyes and broken fingers.jack2
when they buried him, they refused to wash the orange marker pen from the back of his hand for fear that we would dissolve in their lukewarm concerns. they
02
i'll start reading your stuff in an hour or so
danny
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many cry for the dolphin, trapped in fishing nets.
but who cries for the tuna?
What you know you can't explain, but you feel it. You've felt it your entire deviant life, that there's something wrong with the story. You don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.
You take the blue pill, the story ends. Your browser closes and you believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in wonderland. And, I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.
I offer only the truth, nothing more.
Take: The Red Pill
Take: The Blue Pill
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The Angry Deviant
Random Deviant
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Out side of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read. - G Marx
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da://*melat0nin/gallery/
'you will never know the exquisite pain of the guy who goes home alone.'
-=/- :: A'moi :: -\=-
i love you department store peice..
if you havent guessed
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comment, to get comments.
share your kindness, not your hate.
love the art, before yourself.
meditate on this. [link]
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