I've Lost Everything I love, This isn't my home.

Well, if you let me put it that way then its that simple.
But if you rip yourself out again then, its that simple too. I find I become a completely different person without your response, and yours too. I'm sick of myself, ready to go back to my old ways and tear the skin off my back inch by inch. Slowly kill myself and drowned in the leakage of human waste. You have me standing out in the rain for you. You have me at my most vulnerable state and I'm only good enough for when you want me. I didn't do it cause I didn't want you to think I was only good for one thing. I wanted more out of you and thought more of you. Your the slime between my teeth and the gut of the stuck pig smothering itself in the back of a pickup.
My hands move back and fourth and my tongues stays in place. My eyes searching for some type of distraction. You give me the illness I've been dreading. The plague is your name and you will know it.

Haha.

Think whatever you want to think. Its been hard for the past couple of weeks. But whatever... I hate that I'm always the one that has to make the first move. Fucking stupid, how if I don't then everything ends.

I've never known another city to burn

Yes, lets bitch again.

Sick of the pendulum effect. It will never stops, just keeps swaying from side to side, but the whole slowing down effect never takes place.
It gives me chills. Its only on rare occasions it makes me happy. Like last time it couldn't have been more perfect, but then I got a chance to hopefully do it all over again. No, it made me go back to that place to start second guessing. Why am I not like how I use to be? Get bored as soon as I saw you, and just wanted it to be over with? Made it so much simpler for me. Because when my feelings come through they become amplified to the tenth degree. I'm not sure why its doing this to me. Torturing me, feeding off of me, and just leaving me in the streets. Either you want it or you don't. I'm beginning to stand clear.

Like Me.

Someone like me shouldn't be aloud to leave the nest. Someone like me shouldn't be aloud to be let out in the open. Kept in her cage not putting heaven in any type of rage, rather making them at ease.

A Story by A True Genius.

TRUE! nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why WILL you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How then am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily, how calmly, I can tell you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain, but, once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture -- a pale blue eye with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me my blood ran cold, and so by degrees, very gradually, I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye for ever.

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded -- with what caution -- with what foresight, with what dissimulation, I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night about midnight I turned the latch of his door and opened it oh, so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern all closed, closed so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly, very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this? And then when my head was well in the room I undid the lantern cautiously -- oh, so cautiously -- cautiously (for the hinges creaked), I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights, every night just at midnight, but I found the eye always closed, and so it was impossible to do the work, for it was not the old man who vexed me but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he had passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed , to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers, of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was opening the door little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea, and perhaps he heard me, for he moved on the bed suddenly as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back -- but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness (for the shutters were close fastened through fear of robbers), and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.

I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening , and the old man sprang up in the bed, crying out, "Who's there?"

I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed, listening; just as I have done night after night hearkening to the death watches in the wall.

Presently, I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief -- oh, no! It was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself, "It is nothing but the wind in the chimney, it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or, "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes he has been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions ; but he had found all in vain. ALL IN VAIN, because Death in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel, although he neither saw nor heard, to feel the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time very patiently without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little -- a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it -- you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily -- until at length a single dim ray like the thread of the spider shot out from the crevice and fell upon the vulture eye.

It was open, wide, wide open, and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness -- all a dull blue with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones, but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person, for I had directed the ray as if by instinct precisely upon the damned spot.

And now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses? now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eye. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder, every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! -- do you mark me well? I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me -- the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once -- once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But for many minutes the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence.

I took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly so cunningly, that no human eye -- not even his -- could have detected anything wrong. There was nothing to wash out -- no stain of any kind -- no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that.

When I had made an end of these labours, it was four o'clock -- still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, -- for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.

I smiled, -- for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search -- search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

The officers were satisfied. My MANNER had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears; but still they sat, and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct : I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definitiveness -- until, at length, I found that the noise was NOT within my ears.

No doubt I now grew VERY pale; but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased -- and what could I do? It was A LOW, DULL, QUICK SOUND -- MUCH SUCH A SOUND AS A WATCH MAKES WHEN ENVELOPED IN COTTON. I gasped for breath, and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly, more vehemently but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why WOULD they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men, but the noise steadily increased. O God! what COULD I do? I foamed -- I raved -- I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder -- louder -- louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly , and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! -- no, no? They heard! -- they suspected! -- they KNEW! -- they were making a mockery of my horror! -- this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! -- and now -- again -- hark! louder! louder! louder! LOUDER! --

"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! -- tear up the planks! -- here, here! -- it is the beating of his hideous heart!"

Have a great Thanksgiving, I forgot to post this for Halloween.. But I am Thankful for Edgar Allan Poe.

The Suit.

Hey, I paid. I pay to see a real whore'or show. I drop about $5,000 on this show once a week. Basically I get off on the whole s&m beauty pageants. Except the humiliation lied within the crowd, because if we were ever found then we would be in the papers. Us, suits, would be exposed. Half of us are lawyers, some of us are politicians, one of us a governor, and well I'm a father.

We all gathered to watch girls being beat until death do us part. Some of us would jack off to it, others would drool. I would sit and be nearly amused, but still all kinds of pleasure would course its way through my body. Tonight, she was a brunette with soft milky skin. Gorgeous figure, eyes that sparkled, and lips as pale as the moon. All these girls knew exactly what they were getting in to. They actually offered to be in these shows. We would watch objects come in and out of their bodies, men striking them with metal blades, and the girls would then cry at the end of the show with their finale. Most girls would pick one of us from the crowd have a final offering for us, and then we all go home to our perfect lives.

I watched the girls bleed to death, like watching a pig running around with a wound gushing blood. They would squeal. They would make themselves deformed. One girl actually slit her throat open and ripped out her vocal chords. Maybe they find this to be like performance art? But why? I would always go home right after and take a shower. I'm sure you get the irony. These shows gave us a reason to completely ruin the world for one moment at a time.

Its Time to Mold.

Its that time again. Its that time to feel alone and to feel as though you needed this. Your discipline is kicking in. Its all directed towards you. No human contact makes you feel safe. No reason to feel needed is the most comforting you've felt in months. Just hide in the trees and live free. Not like the hippie's though.

Fuckin A.

I really hope what I said didn't freak you out. I really hope that it wasn't a situation where I should of held my tongue. Maybe I should of held off and told you something different. Maybe I'm making a big deal about nothing. But it does make me look bad. I made myself look like a jackass. Great.....

huh.

you make me want to change :D

Toy.

You seem to follow me around everywhere I go. You ask me everything you want to know (ugh it rhymed.) You even offered me your jacket when I was cold, and of course turned it down. You laugh when I do, you made me comfortable from the get go.

Why do you people do this to me? I'm finally happy and get comfortable when I'm alone and then BAM, someone wants to come in to my life. Which I should be grateful for... I guess.
He told me he just got out of a 4 yr relationship with someone back in March. Which seems to be cool, cause he can do commitment. But I've never been in a relationship. Ha. Plus I mean, he's cute but not fantastic.. WHAT THE FUCK, YOU SEE THIS SHIT???? I'M BLOGGING LIKE A 13 YR OLD. I'M DONE.

Sure Embarrassment

I can't believe that just happened. How dare you. After all your shit I had to listen to, after all your shit I put up with. I'm glad I don't have to be around you anymore. I knew you were going to do this, and I knew you were this person. I just tried to make you something you will never be. Even you swim back and fourth through lies.

I don't know why I even befriended you.

I'll deal with you.

I'll give you something to say, I'll give you something to write, I'll give you something to argue about, I'll give you something to act with violence on. I've got a pocket that holds the truth for you, I've got a hand that folds in half to beat you in. It's a simple riddle when dealing with these kinds of people. The only tricky part is not the riddle itself. But the person and which riddle they shit out everyday. When sticking your foot in the door and prying it open to only see whats behind, you can either get a knife stuck in your face or a gun. Most people would go for a gun, quick fast and easy. But you should go with a knife, that way its a long drawn out process and you won't have to put up with shit for awhile, ha ha.

When trying to "find" yourself, know that you must create yourself before you ever find anything. What questions do you have? Well they all have simple answers as long as on the way you build yourself that way you would like to see it. Theirs your answer. People don't understand a lot of things, and that's only because they are to involved with people who aren't them. You never get to become what you truly want if your drowning in others lives. Your just ruining the experience for them.

I know you're not going to listen because you're all sewer sheep. Have a good day.

Baphomet : Trish

I'm not sure whats going on lately with myself. It seems I've come to a dark spot in my life. Where the insane become comforting and the normal have become the meal on my plate. Hanging pictures of Baphomet with stories of mad men on my walls. But then the White Tara is hanging across from them.

It's something with the winter that makes me want to be alone at all costs, and makes me want to cut off the world on all ends.

Today was the beginning of that time. For when the people point the blame on me, and I then cut down other people in the spirit of the jackals before them.

I find I'm at my best when alone. I am stronger but then always come up short. We'll see.

Hooves Battled the One.

Frustration strains on his face and all flesh combined. He felt like losing everything he wanted so maybe he could gain back some glimmer of hope. Maybe someone would give him a break. Hopefully it would all fall in place. Maybe he could end up finding a home in his heart.

"It fell, and it left me to be torn apart."
"It will get better."
"It's been three fucking years, when will it get better?"
"You have to be patient."
"As easy as you said it, it doesn't seem that way."
"Everyone reaches a hard spot. You've come to yours, but your moving slowly."
"Maybe its quick sand. That's why its moving so slowly."
"Maybe you should be positive."
"Maybe I should kill myself."
"Seriously, give it time and it will come through. It always does, but your so fucking negative I don't know what to tell you anymore. To where you'll have some fucking hope for yourself. What do you need me to say? So, you will hopefully shut the fuck up and do something about it."
"Kill me."
"That's not a solution."
"It isn't? Tell that to the people that are dead right now, because of your fucking hard spots."

She looked away not hoping for any kind of attention from the fool. He glanced towards the road thinking if he ran out in front of a car would he live? Since his luck right now is so slim, why would he die? It's what he wanted why would it come true?

"Please, just let this one day be different from all the rest. Where you finally stand up and walk away from all this shit you're in."

"Maybe its the only thing I've really got right now. Maybe I actually enjoy its fucking company. Maybe I like to swim in sorrow everyday that's why its stuck. Did you ever think of that?"

A Calling.

I think I finally found my calling, photography.

Now, I know right now I am just taking shitty pictures. But that's to start to become comfortable with whats around me, how to use it, and how to make it some what beautiful. I can never find myself putting down the camera. I can never seem to ever want to part with my camera. I want to learn about photography every second I get. New ways to see the camera in order to distort some type of reality. I hope I'm not going through a phase. Where I love something so much I become sick of it and put it down for awhile.

I'm not sure who exactly said this, but if you know.. Let me know.
"A true photographer never stops taking pictures." It's true. But If I find become sick of this new love of mine.. Then I know its not for me. But is it possible for people that are good at what they do, love what they do, become sick of it for a moment? I'm not sure where I am going to end up, or what I will be doing, if I will be happy or anything. But I hope this little piece stays with me. I hope when I look through the lens I will still see the future.

I hope so.

Huh... Thinking.

I wonder what happened?
I wonder where it went?
I wonder if its still around?
I wonder if it still counts.


I'm in that state again. I'm fucking in it and can't get the fuck out of it. Like quicksand. Just fucking suck me all the way in already.


"The girl had short brown hair. Hated everything and everyone. Hated the way she looked, hated her body, hated what there was to hate about herself. "Why live, when you have nothing to live for? No one wants this shell I live in or anything inside of it." She's about ready to give in and just take it in to her own hands."

I'm so fucking pissed right now I can't even think, and I hate every fucking word I'm typing right now.gh iopwfje opghjqP HSEPR9 IUEP9Y8-0[HUWFJSDO;M,F

Makes me wonder.

Justin: You're just full of information.
Trish: That's why I talk to everyone.
Trish: Even if I don't like them.
Justin: They confide in you.
Trish: Never a good thing.

Makes me wonder... Why did I say that? I feel like a horrible person. But its the truth. I even said it without thinking it. People tell me things and then I go and unleash behind their backs. Something I've been meaning to change, but never come around to it. I have gotten better. I hold my tongue, even though I tend to cough up blood from biting to hard. I use to want to be the hard ass that would kill anyone in their path. Said the worst things I could ever say. Whatever... Guilt trip #202,356,0001

Jeez, You're Rotten.

Ugh. Again, really? Here we go.
So, lets waltz and get it over with.

List of Sleeping Exercises.

1. I should really go to bed, I'm tired.
2. Oh, my new camera. Let me play with it for 10 minutes.
3. Oh shoot, it's already been and hr and a half.
4. Let me check my myspace.
5. Bitches never write me anymore.
6. Let me upload my new fantastic photos!
7. I'm gonna get my video game on!
8. Ok, I have to clean my clothes.'
9. Ok, now I can play Tomb Raider.
10. Let me check my other friendly sites really quick, then I'll go to bed.
11. I'm fucking hungry.


More like what I'm thinking, but always in that order.

The Lonley Monster.

Hmmm. People put such a ugly mark on being alone. What's wrong with not wanting to be in a relationship? Cause you don't have someone to love you? There is family. Someone to fight with? There are your friends. That feeling you get with a guy? Well, there is nothing to fulfill that feeling. I have had that feeling, I understand. But after an amount of time that feeling goes away, and then you look at them and get yourself prepared for the sad break up story.

You go into a realtionship wanting that feeling, wanting the attention, wanting everything and more with this guy or girl.

I am starting to appreciate not being in a realtionship, not having that second fucking job. Plus it seems after years and years of not getting attention I did want.. I gave up. Plus when I look in to the future I never see it with a guy. I see it by myself and it makes me so fucking happy. Not having to rely on a guy to make me happy, fill my heart with everything I've ever wanted. I guess I'm independent and understand you can feel alive without a man.

If I ever do find some guy that sweeps me off my feet then I just might shut up. But until then the jokes on you.

The Mark, The Take, & The Autopsy

I feel like ripping the skin off my back and hanging it on a coat hanger. Ah, wait let me throw my tendons along with it. Let me go ahead and start this decaying process. When being handed a card and the card is friendship, it's a great thing to be able to have a new friend and learn new things.

Until you realize this friend has nothing to teach you, has nothing to give you, except maybe a few laughs, and probably a few lies. Well, then you start to think maybe someone else is trying to push them away from you. Its really help.

Upbeat Baby.

Ever wonder when it's all going to happen? When your fist will ball up and you end up making a fool of yourself? Say the right thing, but always wording it wrong or it comes out as if you had a mild stutter or someone just burned your tongue? It's a fine line between embarrassment and an awkward feeling, but they always join together to end up sweeping me from under my feet. You wish you had remembered that one little thing? You wish you had quick wit and fire?

Everyday I walk in to that office. Same long face, same quiet girl, and the same pathetic sap that just goes straight to work. Hate your co-workers but secretly love one of them and wish you didn't. Wish he didn't even talk to you. At work I'm a completely different person. I guess its a place where I'm not happy so I'm not going to even show emotion just to give you a taste of what mood I'm in when I have to see you fuckers.

Then the next day you have to go to Jury Duty. Why? Can't I just pay you to get out of it? Make it even worse. Then the bills come. Then the friends you once had, but of course screwed them over don't want anything to do with you. I find the humor in manipulation, I find the punch line at the end of a lie. Why can't they?

It seems the lonelier I get (such as hasn't had male attention in YEARS) the worse I get. It might not be that, but its the quickest one I can come up with. So whenever a male pays attention to you.. You feel some sort of relief. I don't even care if you're the ugliest man with the shittiest personality in the world... It's nice. I like attention. I got it from my father.

My father that's a novel to be written. He needs to write a book about himself. He would be the next Hunter S. Thompson. I can see it now in the reviews "John H. carries a certain gonzo-esque in his stories." But my father is a man that should have been famous. But he lucked out. I still want to be just like him in every way. Confident, strong, intelligent, intellectual, OUTGOING, ultimate smart ass, and a fascinating person.

When I grow up I hope to be like my father. He always makes for a great conversation piece.

If someone told a story about me, what would they say? Well I can tell you right away your story is wrong. Everyone gets a different side of me. It depends on what kind of person I think you are so I'll give you that side. Who ever hasn't done that... I promise makes things simple and fun for you because you get to be a new person everyday. Just like dress-up or a fashion show. You come out with a different garment every time and people still love you.

Shit, that might be what you call FAKE. Oh well.

Apologies, might not be my strong point.

I'm sorry for backing down lately. I never use to be like this. Not knowing when to say no or when to cancel correctly. I promise for a change. I wish I knew a better way. But lately my mind has been all over the place... On countless occasions. I am disappointed in myself, and I wish I would stop.

A break in my life. A break of my spine.

My head shakes and ponders. I look down constantly, not only from a lack of self confidence, but from fear and all sorts of feelings of uncertainty. I feel like I'm sitting at the head of a 80 ft table, alone. When the servant comes to bring me my plate its seems to be lacking interest to me. It seems he took a caff stripped it of its skin. Put a rotten peach in its mouth and just handed it to me as if I wanted the carcass to eat. I then have no choice. I have to take it. If I sent it back, god only knows what he would bring to me instead.

I seem to have nothing to care for anymore. The greatest part of feeling numb is that when another blow comes at you, you don't care. You just go with it. Its predictable so you just shrug and walk away. You're so tired of crying at this point.
When you know your life has no turning point, what do you do?
When you only buy material things cause its the only thing that makes you happy, what do you do?
When you sit at your desk at work and feel like the biggest failure and feel like your not even wanted in the world, what do you do?
When you've lost all your friends, what do you do?
When you can't get a hold of your family, what do you do?
When you begin to hate your family, what do you do?

If I had an answer I wouldn't be so pathetic.

FAAAKE.

FACE.

A face is a point in which you stop to watch. You become engaged with this force. You want to take your eyes off of this, but you've never seen anything like it. Such beauty, such intensity, but made of plastic. Hard shells of identity. If I knew how to take off my mask and trade with someones made with peasants hands, made in sweat shops, and loved everywhere. Then I would. But I can't. If you take my mask off you will see a 'Made in China' stamp on the inside of it. Just like everyone else. But the delicate beautiful ones that you see plastered all over the world all over the pages of brainwashing media are not stamped at all. They are too special to dare stamp.

Perfection right in my hands, but I can't steal hers. But I can admire it from behind mine. Boys laugh at mine, make a mocking of it. None of them want a stamped girl. Behind this cell is full of water from constant tears and frustration. My life might shatter but this fucking mask never will. I'm stuck with it, and I wish someone could find it and know they must have it. Another one to add to the collection.

FACE.



ugh. what a fucking waste of thinking. please I stop myself here.

The Girl Made of Cockroaches.

Yes I am made of cockroaches and ash. Its a simple ingredient. Not proud of it, but its better than being made of generic substances. Like whiskey and thongs or cum and hot sauce. I'm glad I'm not those cum guzzling whores. Swallow every inch baby he won't love you anymore than the dog infested with rabies.

Well, I find its easier without you around. Still on my mind, yes. I still have feelings for you and wish I didn't. You make me sick. Thats probably why I like you. Cause I can't stand you. Why? I find myself wanting to hold that barrel against your pretty little jaw. SICK SICK SICK. You're like the blood I cough up after a cigarette. Like a leech that I want to throw into a fire.

People don't please me too often, and when they do I find them sticking around for more than a couple of hours. I only want you around cause you dug that deep to make me fond of you. Thank you. What boring days these have been. What dream filled days these have been. I find my mind is starting to become useless. Since I fill it with peoples idiotcy (yea I made it up) and their cunts and dicks. What is wrong with you people posting obscene pictures of yourself for the world to see? No one wants to see your Gunt while you're trying to lick your tit, or see you shove a sharpie pen up your ass, or you having a threesome with a crack whore and 500 lbs. gorilla. Gain some common sense and dignity.

The Perfect Photo

I see those family photos where everyone looks perfect. The perfect fucking family. Makes me sick. Makes me even more ill when its my own damn family. Except its not my immediate family. My mother, father, sister, and I never took family photos. We had no need to pretend. We weren't perfect you could see it in the scars, the bruises, the way we spoke to each other. So why put on a mask for the world to see? But I shouldn't bash on it since 80% of American families do this. Maybe out of that 80 there are a couple of families that aren't putting on a show. Aren't trying to prove to us that they're fine and perfect.

I'll never understand the tradition.

The Twain Brother

She kept chattering. She kept looking over at me. She knew I was pissed. She knew she had gotten me good with her fucking remark. I'm slowly starting to believe the woman is truly the devil. The can out smart us at any given day. Kill you in an instant. They are sweet and kind to your face, but a true rare breed of evil on the inside. The women that show it are the women that are not smart enough to hide it. The women that let go of all their rage and reveal it are the weak less intelligent ones.
But as I was sitting watching my television shows I couldn't let go of what she said. She won't even let it go. My mind is like a twig that you slowly snap. You can see it almost break, and when it does it has a loud crack and a slow tear away.
"I don't know why you just won't fucking do it." I don't remember ever saying anything to you, bitch. That came out in a form of an answer, and I really don't think I just asked you a fucking question. My head turned around "I'm sorry did I say something to you and not know it?"
She gave me the look of a unsure reasoning of why I would even come out with that.
"Oh, so now were are going to do this again?"
"Do what? You bitch up and down the street, and me sit here having to listen to your fucking mouth?"
"Don't do it, you're the one stirring it up."
"YOUR THE ONE WITH THE FUCKING PROBLEM, BITCH."
She looked at me in utter shock. I wasn't proud of it. The least I could have done was be more creative with it, other than use BITCH. God, such a boring word now I don't know why people still get shocked by that word.

"GO FUCK YOURSELF, MIKE. I have tried to put up with your shit and I can't take it anymore!"
"Oh really? Go pack your shit then. And I'm sure you'll be back within a fucking week since no one else is going to want to fuck your fat ass."

I say too many things, but I did agree with this. I didn't say it in order to be a low blow. But for Christ sakes she weighed 289. Thats just not healthy, and I am not good looking guy either. I'd need her back in a week so I could at least get laid.

I FINALLY GOT IT.

Hahahahaha. A huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders today. Thank god I finally saw it. I finally fucking saw what was in front of me the whole time. I am happy today and I hope it lasts.

How Dare you Get Inside my Head, and Make me a Different Person.

Love-noun, verb, loved, lov·ing.
–noun

1.	a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.

2.	a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.

3.	sexual passion or desire.

Love is a horrible word for me. It makes me do things I wish I hadn't done, wish I hadn't met you, wish I was blind, and also have become blind. It's eats and tears at me to the core. Rewires my mind. You do this to me on purpose, I look at you I fall to my knee's. I will do anything at will. Then I think about each gesture, I think about each word, each fucking look. I then doubt it all over again. It was obvious and will always be obvious. But when I become fond of someone I don't notice what I should. I wish I could cut this part of my brain out. I wish I could cut out my heart and serve it on a plate to a family of cannibals.

Love eats you alive. They say its a beautiful thing, but it has ruined people I know. Makes them change for the worse and they start to isolate you. I then have to get rid of every memory of you after you've beaten me alive. That means get rid of the things I do love that haven't done anything to me other than you crushing those things as well.

Love is a horrible thing to me and if you are in love with someone. Have fun ruining your life. I wish you no luck.
Love, fuck you.

Diablo

"May you have a passionate life."

My Tarot card for today. I think it fits. I seem to have this card at least 5 times a month. Why?....... should I care?


--------------------------------------------------

12:45 a.m.

Take it Personally
I do love thee. I suggest this album. The Starlite Desperation is one hell of a band. Also purchase Violate a Sundae. Beautiful. I would suggest all of their albums, but I have committed a crime by only listening to a couple of songs off their other albums.

Take that mile. I hope you collapse from heat exhaustion.

I've noticed, and thought about it tonight. That my hate use to grow very very slowly. But now its gotten faster and becoming almost a plague in its growth. I know I take my hate issue on every chance I get. But its becoming unbearable.
Anyways, it grows more and more each day when I sit across the room from all of you. Listening to the same punch line, the same annoying giggle, the same fucking argument. I'm happier outside of my head when I don't have much time to think. But when I do all hell becomes captured behind my eyes and I find a place to create a world of pure violence, no innocence has even evolved.

It's a short life we have, and why spend time hating everyone? Its easier not to communicate with you.. people. Most disagree but when stuck inside a mind trying to call for help, but your tongue has been shot with a tranquilizer it's a little hard to communicate.
I see this occurring every night. I see the future of my actions, thoughts, and horrible mistakes. I repeat them until I see what it is thats wrong. I try to fight everything I can in order to ignore this horrible disease, but it takes over and it turns into a different sight. Hate is a word no one should use. It's stronger than most think. You don't know what it truly means until everything about that subject pricks at you as if you fell in to a well full of thorns.

Its a powerful feeling that you can never shake off. Its a permanent state. It's a grasp on to your thighs and neck that hold on for dear life. Hate is only the spine for evil. Evil I will never be able to explain. No one truly can. Its a snake, the ocean, its every thing that changes its form and reacts different and is unpredictable on many occasions.

Why so alive?

There's this itch I have. I scratch and scratch until I let it open. Until I let it sting. I've got a gap in between my words. My thinking has become more in a stuttering flop. A soothing mind is a rather boring downhill asshole. A complicated battled mind is a fine imported dick. People won't ever win. We want more than we have, the pleasure will never sink in fully.

If you press your hands against someones body you find a mark, it fades until its gone. I feel like that mark. You'll watch me until I leave, and never do it again cause it wasn't anything special. Pass on by this mark. When built on anger, frustration, stress, and pure hate... Its a rather boring person. Because I hate everyone, I don't find anything good about you. I could care less about you. Its a full question, its a full bullshit statement.

Well, its all bullshit. So we need to be slapped in the face and deal with it.

Where's My Devil? He was in my pocket.

I uhh I got a large quantity of hate and pain bubbling inside my head lately. I wish I could say I don't want it in there. I want to tilt my head to the side and let it drain out of my ear. But no, I want it there to keep that certain look, so no one will mess with me. I keep it crawling down my shoulder. I let it will seep down into my pores when its time to let it all unleash.
I can say the hate and pain came from my fellow co-workers. They use me to their advantage. They throw me into shit knowing I won't say no. I push myself to the edge, the breaking point. Why? I'll never know why. I like the feeling of an almost mental breakdown. I love the texture of pure insanity. You know that feeling in your palms that shoot through your fingers that make them shake. Makes your mind melt, and your tongue swell.

Its a pure substance. It's not easy to get rid off, its hard to shake. Only the strong minded know how to shake it. While the weak ones, as myself, keep it there for pity, and a reason to hate everyone. I shouldn't need a reason to dislike any of you. You all use me, you use me and throw me to the jaws of life. It's a quick chew, but its the worst pain I could feel. Especially when your as sensitive as I am. I'm letting the truth come out. I hate the feeling, I hate letting you know I'm weak and afraid. Like any other human being... I wanted to be different. I want to say I am nothing like you. But I am.. I have the same emotions, same guilt.

I feel a rise trying to conquer my body, to make me feel numb. Its working, and I'm letting it through my system. But for fuck sakes, man. When does life give a cigarette break? Let that steam roll off your back? Let your muscles become free from all prison of restraint and anger?

Loneliness has become a comfort. Knowing your alone in your ventures towards either failure or success. To know you won't have someone bring you back down in to that sweat hog pin you once got free from. I can do things for myself, which don't seem to be working, don't seem to come through. But not to worry about anything or anyone else's problems. You find loneliness becomes a best friend, a growth on your back that won't seem to go away, but you don't mind it. Cause you don't have to see it.. So there's no problem. The only downfall is who do I run to when it all breaks down? I've got you, but you always want more. Don't we?

These Fucking Days.

The days get worse and worse as I move, and try to head towards a better life. But something sucks me back in. I'm in a deep black hole sweating, bleeding, and crying. I can't catch a goddamn break. I feel like I'm peeling, but all the skin has calloused so it won't come off so easily. I have to take a knife in order to get it off, but then give up through out the process. I give up on a lot of things. My life lacks order. I hate what friends I have. I hate what little I give myself. I'm finally breaking down. I finally needed this. I kept everything inside for so fucking long that its coming out. I don't want to see you ever again. I don't want to see any of your fucking faces I wish to wipe off. You all use me. It's hard to say that, it really is. But it's true. I'm there when everyone else has gone. So why don't you just come to me, right? I'm fucking right.

Cock it, Pull it.

I pulled the trigger and nothing came out. My tears run and I hide my face. Whats new with life? nothing.

SHIT.

I'm doing it again. I'm losing myself again. I praying and hoping someone notices. I wish I wish I wish..... But they are just dreams. My dreams have always led to nightmares. Who knows. Seems the one I wish would understand knows I have nothing to give. Seems she knows I am full of hope and thats it. Will never get a boy I like. GODDAMMIT I WISH I DIDN'T HAVE FEELINGS.

The Last Words...

"There's a uhh girl looking through the window." I turned around to see who it might be. "That's June. She's the neighbor across the street." She looked bothered to know that people just do whatever they want. "Your not going to say anything? If someone was doing that to me I would flip out." "No, she means no harm. She just does it." "Ok, well I feel very uncomfortable could you tell her to stop, please?" I got up from the table and knocked on the window. "June, go home June." June looked up and smiled then walked back home.

"Happy?" She smiled and kept eating her supper. "Thank you." All I remembered after that was gun shots and screaming. I then woke up from passing out. I got up from the floor slowly and cautiously. I was dizzy from when I got knocked out. I started walking all through the halls, kitchen, bathrooms. Shouting Elizabeth's name. "Elizabeth? Where are you?!" I heard nothing but silence. She was 5 months pregnant. It wasn't my child but we just started going out.


I heard a small gurgle. I ran towards the noise to find nothing. I then went to the back door to see it all the way open where they must of taken her. I ran into the back yard hoping to find someone or something. There was nothing. I fell to my knee's and began to cry. I let her down. I didn't keep her safe. But what happened? why did this happen?

I ran out the back yard through the side fence. I saw June and ran up to her. "JUNE?! Did you see what happened? did you see where they took Elizabeth?" June looked at me with those innocent eyes not knowing what was even going on with the world. Why would she knew what happened?

"No." She was pointing towards a shed in Mr. Jacobs backyard. "Is she in there?" "No." She just kept pointing. I then went into Mr. Jacobs backyard. I walked over to the shed and stood there for a minute. What if she was in there? What if she was cut up into pieces? I slowly stretched my arm out to open the door. "BOY WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOUR DOIN IN MY GODDAMN BACKYARD?"

"I can't find Elizabeth." He looked at me in utter shock. "What the fuck? It was the ambulance they came and got her. She went in to labor. Why aren't you at the hospital with her?"

I couldn't believe it. "But I heard gun shots and someone knocked me out."
"You didn't hear no fucking gun shots. You heard your head it the floor once the medics came in a knocked you to the ground."



p.s. these are made to be really shitty stories. :D

I Lost Myself.

She was engaged to the perfect boy. She was the slut around the corner but still had the cute tiny figure and an all around american girl. I just watch this from the sidelines with an inside source, so let me take you down... down.

This boy sweet as could be, bit of an ass but you could talk to him about anything. Smart, a little too grown up for his age, good thing but could come down in a fast flame.

She loved attention, didn't know when to shut up. The typical petite cutie every guy loved.

To me, well I hated her she annoyed me, had shark teeth, the smile of chucky, and made everything about herself. I noticed all her flaws and hated her. The boys saw her as perfect, lust on legs.
Anyways, then another boy came around. Once again very mature for his age, scrawny, very intelligent, hilarious, great guy. He immediately caught her eye. Even letting go of the fact she is engaged to the perfect boy... But here comes an almost better one. He loved her as well. Both of them full of lust for one another. Nothing happened until today.... And today her fiance broke. Something is wrong and I'm not sure why. But I hope the best for this boy, great guy and deserves royalty.. not trash off of any rich corner. Good luck boy.

Weird Time.

I'm noticing a change in my mind manner. I feel as though I have been taken from my home been wrapped in plastic and stored away for shipment into some other world. I give myself choices and decisions about time in which I feel I barely have. I am so caught up with everything else that I never have time for myself. I crave and desire attention from the world. But they keep me in that box wrapped up and forgotten about. The little antique they don't care to put out. I could be valuable and they talk about from time to time, but just do that. What can I do but just keep to myself? When I am let out I become excited and then annoying and too much to handle so they put me away again. I'm sort of that little ornament thats a bit of an eye soar and kind of an embarrassment to even have. But you still feel proud to have me.... Oh the year of 19 is a stuck unsure year. Very unpleasant... 19 is an unlucky number for me. Lets hope the best for a 20.

Va Va Voom Baby

I got those pasties driving boys crazy. I got the red g string pulling at their teeth and taunting their every desire. My fresh never touch pussy smells of a citrus orange. Juicy and ready to be bitten into. Which boy was going to be the first to make a girls flower throb? Walking up and down the stage making their hearts pound with every step, stride, and wink. My red lips and black eyes kept their attention every time. As I would touch my inner thighs, and bring my hands up around my breasts only made their mouths water that much more.
My music was fading and so that meant I had to leave them with a salute from their third leg. I waved them goodbye and made sure my tits bounced as I stomped off the stage. Give them one last tease. Shouts and roars all around the stage. The attention was all I needed. I felt so damn good. Now to go find my lucky guy tonight.



p.s.
well... if that wasn't fun to write then I don't know what was.

Scratch Head

NEEDS:

- Coffee Maker :(
- New Ideas
- Save the world (possibly?)
- To be happy
- Not give up
- Not care what people think
- Have skin that doesn't get sun burned in 2 seconds!


Wants:

- Coffee Maker :)
- My Canon Camera
- Haircut
- Shoes
- Clothes
- Material bullshit



No story today, probably a relief.

Watch a Girl Grow, I Grow BIG.

I got that one hand then I got the other. I got the one trigger then I got the grenade. I got the boy but then I want to be that girl. I found myself at the worlds edge and putting on a show for you. I place myself in front of the stage and dance and dance for your entertainment.
I got the trigger then I got the grenade.

I showed up unannounced, I knew she would love that. I knew she would be so happy, her daughter in-law showing up to her own sons birthday party. I deserved to be there. I fuck the him for christ sakes, now let me be there to sit by him and tease him under the table, right in front of the head bitch. I entered into the living room where all the family gathered. I was dressed in all white to remind them I'm married to this man. Silence crashed down as soon as I walked in. All faces blank and in complete horror. I could here them "Why is she here and who invited her?"
"Minnie, what are you doing here?" She fucking said it. Even with a snarl at the end. "It's my husbands birthday, I would like to enjoy it with him. I figured that wouldn't be a problem." Stale talking from myself. His father, Mervin, typical, got up from his chair and walked towards me. He put his arm around my waist. "Well, of course dear. Come on in. Lets get you a seat." Only the men loved me. Women hated me for their own reasons. I guess they knew I could and WOULD snatch their men away. "Thank you, Mervin."

I sat right next to my husband and Mervin sat on the other side of me. "So, Minnie how have you been. Seems I haven't seen you in awhile."
"You haven't Mervin, for choices that were not up to me. But I am good, thank you." He turned his heads towards the scrunt. Gave her a look of a certain HOW DARE YOU magnitude. She gave it right back to him. "Well, Minnie we are glad to have you here. Please stay for a while. Can I get you anything?"
"No I'm fine thank you." The whole entire family just pounded their hate on top of me, with their stares, snarls, lips, and thoughts. I just held on to my husband the only one who cared enough to keep holding on to me knowing he was happy I was there. The only person who would die for him. I looked at him, he smiled to me. "I'm happy you came. I don't think I could have made it through the day."

I love him. "Well, how could I give up a chance to make your mother stir crazy?" We laughed all day and only looked at one another. We were happy.

Second Guess, I hate it.

I'm second guessing my "ability" to do things. I thought this time I would be better. I would have gotten better with live shots. But infact I am right back where I started. SHIT SHIT SHIT. When doing a friends head shots they came out fucking amazing. BEAUTIFUL, I WAS IMPRESSED BY THEM, AS IF I DIDN'T DO THEM. I know its a easier to do head shots then live shots. But I am investing into a new digital camera (not NEW its a Nikon D40. Megapixels are a scam. Remember that.) It also comes with an extra zoom lens which I am excited about. I hope to god I can get my shit together for the 21st and be able to step up from everything else I have done in the past. Be able to have my head up high and people be HAPPY about the outcome and referring me to others and taking me where ever they go! Well not take me, but still you see what I am saying? It's one of the worst pains to feel as though you failed when they depended on you. Check out the shots and let me know.

HEAD SHOTS:

-Kasey DeVille





BLESSED BY A CURSE:




No, not that many of the band... Only cause stupid me didn't upload them to my computer first. They are all on film. I dunno I'm pissed cause I didn't give a great first impression.

Capital Punishment.

I figured I would tag along for the ride, the laughs, and of course the memories. No memory I want to remember I thought. Not a word out of my mouth the entire night. Hanging out with a bunch of kids my age, younger, and older. 'Why is she even here?' was what runs through my mind all night. I at one point took upon myself to make a deal, a deal which included DONT EVER DO THIS AGAIN. Don't ever try this again cause you always end up crashing a burning. Only go for what you needed to do, what you had to do, and get the fuck out. I knew that I even warned myself. Don't say yes never say yes you end up in a whirl of shit and you have to float in it all night. I always end up regretting it. I have anxiety with people. Use to not be as bad. But now my mouth only opens when talked to. I find it very hard to live and deal with. No one understands that.

I was way out of my limit and comfort zone. My memories are all the same..... I don't have one to tell cause its just a piece of shit. Then you start to understand why your life is the way it is. You start to see it a little clearer.

A New Loathing.

I seemed to be experiencing some technical difficulties with this bitch. I told her over and over again what I wanted and she just stared at me with those doe eyes smacking her fucking gum. I wanted to rip her jaw clean off. "Sir, I can't help you with this problem. We don't have it." She must have been about 16 and she was a fucking cunt. "Listen I called before I came you said you HAD IT. Now you don't, its a little odd to me." She didn't know what to say she was blank on what to say. She didn't understand the concept of lying. The bitch could at least try to lie to me.... I decided, lets make this the worst day of her life. What the hell could I do to just make her want to kill herself? Not ask for a manager. No no she would just say I was an asshole and wouldn't stop looking at her tits. She did have great tits by the way.
But, I couldn't grope her I would go to jail. I just wanted to make her cry, and not get fucked up the ass cause the soap slipped. I looked her dead in the eye "Listen what I really wanted to do was just fuck you. I stood here fighting with you for foreplay. I have the hugest fucking dick and would love for you to fall to your knee's and swallow every inch."

She looked at me for a second and I could tell she wanted to. In a 16 year olds eyes fucking an older person was the SHIT! She nodded towards the back room and I smiled. I let her guide me. She flapped her jaw until we got there. She opened the door and we went inside this abandoned room which smelled like cigarettes. They were probably practicing for the boys.

"Drop em." Well she went straight to the point.... So I unzipped my pants and let them fall to my ankles. Tossed off my underwear and she looked at me with utter shock. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? IS THIS SOME KIND OF FUCKING JOKE?!!" As I smiled and felt the tears starting to come from her eyes I laughed. She ran out screaming. I looked in the broken mirror dangling from the wall and just smiled. I had my dick cut off when I was 19 because a girl that liked me figured if she couldn't have it no one could. So instead of a dick I have a 3 inch thumb instead. Doesn't do much but at least something is there.

Black Valley. Or Maybe the hell of Suburbia.

Driving home from work with Mozart in channel with the wind. I find classical music the only medication I need for insanity. Noticing not a car behind me, in front, beside.... No where to be found. I found myself to think. Am I all alone in the world, finally? Can I take what my heart desires? Can I scream and no one would hear me? The near silence was rather frightening. How could a state this big be this quiet? Hoping for a beast to run out in the middle of the road and kill me. Hoping for an answer to why its so quiet. Then again you must laugh its 3 a.m. Finally I wasn't alone a car past by. Disturbing me. I then was pulling up to the stop light I make a right at in order to come home. I thought I could kill a man and no one would know until morning. I could take his head clean off and spread his remains around the house. A surprise here and a surprise there. I always wanted to see blood under the moons light. It turns black..... Shows the mans real insides. Shows he is a cold hearted pig. With blood running black. I held back figured rest would ease me. Since this music made my eye lids heavy. The world was perfect for a second of my life. It was the empty streets its been needing. I could finally make a path.

Maybe so.

I lived in the palm of the devils hand. He kept a watch over me at all times. I'm never sure what the purpose of my doings were, but for some reason seemed I had to wrap my hands around a barrel of a gun, a soft neck, or the waist of a woman. I had a small itch, a craving if you will to see this girl home. I did it for safety reasons, when really she wasn't safe at all with me crawling by her side. She had a smile that crossed her face and never ended. Her hair for miles and miles that I stroked and cleaned from her face in order to see those big beautiful green eyes. She was so sweet and fragile. I knew exactly what I needed to do to her. I wanted to first fuck her. Then gently stroke her stomach and make her eyes close. Make her feel perfect. Take a blade thats been hiding and slice her throat. I wanted to then hang her from the ceiling and let the blood drain down her body to create a fountain for a swine like I. She would get special attention. I only did this for a few girls.
There is a plan for everyone and I made sure to make it come accordingly. I loved them all.
I saw her to her door and she turned around with that same smile. "Thank you for walking me home." "No problem at all." "Well, so I guess I'll call you tomorrow?" My face must have turned a pale pale color and I boiled with hate and rage. HOW DARE SHE NOT SEE ME IN. How dare she let me just stand here under the darkness to only walk back home. I then kept it together knowing this is all planned out and must come accordingly, right? "Yea, I would like that a lot. Maybe we can go out next week." She turned her head back towards the door. It was a perfect chance for me to kill her right then and there. I should have but kept back. "Thank you again, Micheal. I would invite you in for something to drink, but I'm tired."
She lied to me she knew exactly who I was and I must run to get away from her trap. "I'll call you when I can. " She looked frightened she knew I wasn't some big dumb beast. "But Micheal..." I walked away and never saw her again. I never did.. I felt she was more of a monster than I.

2 Stories, for the price of uno.

Oh shit, its that day again?... Well I guess I'll force my body up. Ahhh, what do they have me for? Yes, yes I remember I took the spit from his mouth. I uhh, took that glimmer of his eye, right? They got me for murder. Well, I gotta pay one day right? Shit, never thought I would be on the other side of this animals hell bin. Well, I figured if I clutched his neck he might know when to close it. When not to take that breath of rage. I guess I lost in the end, yea? I guess he took my dignity down to hell with him. Shaking hands with the devil and has me right beside him. I must appear as a ghost. I must be as pale as a winters day. You know, ever since that one single night every dream has become a nightmare, every glance has his shadow, every word comes out as his. Hell, I don't even have the same voice anymore, its his. Stories like these never seem to be let down then, eh?

Yup (s)HE had a night.


I had one drink, just one and they came up to me. Already had hate and rage bubbling in their palms and throats. I minded my own business knowing even one glance would make them all nervous and pounce upon their prey. So I uh just stared at the television planted on to the wall, watching god only knows what. Seemed like a combo of porn and sports, but with the back alley porn stars, not the glamorous whores. So, the main beast tapped me on the shoulder. I cocked my head in his direction hoping he had the wrong guy. "Yes?" "You Cougar?" What an interesting name. So happy I was not to own it. Cougar must of meant idiot, for fucking with these guys. "No, I'm not sorry to say." "You not Cougar?" Nice caveman slang he had going for himself. "No, no I'm not." They walked away disappointed, hoping to throw their guns in the air and pretend it was the old west again. Frightened I was, since it was going to be 5 against one, and of course no gun. I never liked guns.

Pussy Tales.