Saturday, July 25, 2009

400th Post

a tornado of bats on fire spiraling around a comic book goddess. clad in form fitting leather, zippers sporadically placed over her legs, abdomen, and chest, shaped like the grins of Cheshire cats. her long icy black hair blows in semi-thick coils, obscuring every feature on her face but those sinfully beautiful eyes... like smoking gun metal.

if im serious, i'm a retard.

if i'm joking, i'm an asshole.

They always seem to make things worse.

Gets harder everyday to think they’ll get it right this time. Devoted to being hidden. Dark and cold when the sun owns the days… illumination and warmth when the same star goes away.

And then there’s the years, the ones that promise they’ll be better than the last, only in contrast to the muggings and police reports and shower room breakdowns, where we crawl under cars, fingers in our ears, teeth clenched to imprison the scream so no one will know there is pain is to be had, and thus they won’t co-opt it, misapply it to out of context memories, and keep it for themselves, leaving us behind.

Apply for interviews. The phone rings, but it’s someone else looking to take something from you. We’ve been raised to fight cut crush kill destroy. There are enemies and there is competition. My father taught me that. No one really loves you, or can be bothered with you, unless there is something that can be gained from knowing you. If not (or if so, once it has been exhausted), they will drop you. You’re only as good for them as their need.

i saw that Kylie was "tagged" on Facebook. some lame party shit. anyway, not only do i find her staring back at me with amused disgust at the pathetic amount of attention i showered upon her for nearly a decade, but i find that at this very same gathering was none other than infatuation #2 (certainely is! omfgloloaptwymibrbapcoafyawyomf), Kristin, flashing the nape of her pale neck, smiling coyly, looking as luscisous as the first days she made me feel like a piece of shit.

Kylie and Kristin.


It's like you look in one direction, and it's Your Worst Fucking Nightmare. Then you look in the other direction, and it's Holocaust Incarnate. They've whipped out their 8ft long 9 1/2 ft wide fire hydrant rhino cocks, and they commence skull fucking your fucking skull until they ejaculate LSD (which stands for "LIQUID SMOKE DIARRHEA") from their scaly spiked scrotal sacks, which harbor about 700,000,000,000,000 acid-envenomed crocodile rape wolf testicles. Only. you know, this sucks.

Fuck it.

You make me wanna puke diarrhea from my cock.

yeah... you.

i'm talking to you.

you fucking YOU.

go yank on your cock through your ass and back up to your throat until jizz, vomit, and shit comes spraying out of your nose and mouth like an AIDS cocktail dripping intravenously from the mutilated cunt sock a transgendered dwarf child hooker mummified in saran wrap and left to molder in a washtub full of muriatic acid while a bunch of Nazi War Criminals masturbate furiously over his/her body, simultaneously peeling the flesh from their dicks, glazing him/her in a barber-shop-pole-bukkake.

Then after several days of rotting in the sun, letting all the blood, acid, and cum bake into his/her gas-swollen carcass, you can just lick off whatever grease is left cheesing from the body's wormhole pores, swish it around your mouth until acid-reflux burps stripe the grease with your own gut mucus, spit on your hands, work up a sick nice lather, and slime your butthole for a man-on-man anal tribadism with a morbidly obese poison spewing komodo dragon-for-intestines Transformers enthusiast with a sweaty upper lip that he lavaciously licks profusely while giving you the beadiest of rape eyes just before he puts on an Optimus Prime mask and recites to you the screenplay of Revenge of the Fallen as you grind into one another's sphincters. Then you can suck each other's cobwebbed pickle dicks until vomit shoots from your asses and excrement sprays out your mouths.

then cut a deep giant cross into your torso with a rusty serrated butcher knife and hang yourself in a public woman's restroom, enabling your entrails to fall in a clump down a toilet overflowing with urine, menstrual blood, and mangled late-term aborted triplets who shat out their own heads, turning themselves inside out in the process, the force of their bowel-blow popping off their fetal-alcohol syndrome enlarged craniums, firing them into the air like a colon-cannon full of elephantine skulls, shattering like Precious Moments figurines as they hit the piss-soaked tiles, the baby-bone shards cutting fuckholes into the feet of screaming pre-teen prostitutes.

Fuck You.

you fucking YOU.

You Twitter on Facebook about Twittering on your Facebook while Facebooking your Twitter on your Blackberry. You should do this gay behavior while driving so you can crash into an overflowing pig crap silo and come tumbling out, plastered head-to-toe in steaming excrement. Twitter on your Facebook through your Blackberry about THAT, you blow dried fag bomb. You are a Rectum Catastrophe and your seed should wage war on your balls from inside your microwave accident of a groin.

You think you've found "the one"? FUCK YOU. if she's #1, than you are #2, and that makes you SHIT. you are SHIT, you fucking you.

They're fucked beyond repair. they are stubborn in their doom. they don't care, so why should i accommodate their egos anymore? i hope everyone you've ever loved surrounds you, and turns their backs on you simultaneously, walking in different directions. I'm willing to bet you'll crumble to your knees, and just stare at the floor. because that's more comforting then having to win them all back.

lucky for me, my circle is a small one.

i don't care if it grows.

who needs more.

just you.

only you.

fucking you.

.... the bats dissolve in mid-air. their still-smoking skeletons fall apart before they hit the ground, like a rain of tiny black bones. Ash cascades around her. She shakes the hair and debris from her face, maneuvering her cigar-burn red lips into a casually defiant sneer. She closes her eyes, stretches out her arms, and summons a wind powerful enough to lift her beyond the skies.

Wherever she goes, it will be Heaven.

Wherever she goes, there will be Hell.

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