You are either not logged in or not registered with our community. Click here to register.
October 27, 2016, 07:48:22 PM

Welcome, Guest. Please login or register.
Did you miss your activation email?

Login with username, password and session length

Click here if you are having problems.
Default Wide Screen Beige Lilac Rainbow Black & Blue October Send us your theme!

Wiki Blogs Dicebot

Author Topic: Unfiltered, Unfettered and Unfocused.  (Read 476 times)

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Offline AcidTopic starter

Unfiltered, Unfettered and Unfocused.
« on: March 07, 2012, 02:05:29 PM »
A collection of psuedo-poems, internal dialogue and musings of a mind covered in purple haze.

I am no longer real.

No longer a part of this earth. I'm frozen in time, but not frozen in body. I call out - "mama?"

He asks "are you ready?" and I say "as ready as I'll ever be." And he stabs me. I wait for the cough and there's a pause - time slows down and everything goes dark. I'm still paused. I'm waiting for someone to press the Play button, but nobody does.
No longer a part of this earth. I'm frozen in time, but not frozen in body. I call out - "mama?"

"Mama, Вами там?" (Mama, are you there?)
I open my mouth, but the words don't come out. All my teeth fell out and I move my tongue around, feeling my new gums.

Then my teeth regrow, but my mind is stunted.

As daddy brushes my hair, I turn to him and say "когда я буду пробуждаться, papa?"

He kisses my forehead as Diego takes me from behind.

It will all be over now. I try to still my heart beat, but it's beating too fast. They hold me down and pull my eyelid back. I look around the poorly lit room in a panic, but I'm somehow able to pull myself back into tranquility.

"Shut it! Shut up stupid heart! Stop beating, you whore!"
My boyfriend kisses me and says "que lastima, me amo."

My eyelids reach the middle of my forehead now, stretched to their limits as the needle goes in.

I feel no pain, just bliss and calm. I try to call out in ecstasy and pleasure, but once again, my throat is swollen shut and even if it wasn't, I'm not sure what I would say. Maybe in situations like this, words aren't necessary.

My dad pushes the needle in deeper and reassures me "пробудитесь, Morrison...пробудитесь..."

We used to call it "Being Cleveland," but we knew what it wasn't.

I was only in 4th grade, barely old enough to suck my own dick.
It was an astronomy project, if I remember correctly. Record the phases of the moon for a month. Simple enough, right?

It all started with this project.
30 days that were to become a nightmare for all...

People will eventually forget and go on with their lives.

But I will never forget it.
It was pure terror...but.

It was also 30 days
filled with familiar memories.

Up to the roof I went.
When the door shut behind me, that should have been my first clue to jump.

No awning and no net to catch me.
I wonder if I fell on the grass below if I would go "splat" or simply die in mid-air.

My eyes surveyed the midnight blue sky and there it was. Like a tear, alabaster moon overhead. Waxing Crescent. Great. Back inside I went.

Then I spotted something more interesting.
3 blue orbs, circling each other.

I felt a cold, I've never felt before. The shiver and goosebumps was not due to temperature, but to the sweet-nothings whispered in my ear by some force not of this world. It told me "Bы никогда не будете выходить."

The words on the nape of my neck felt colder than any winter.

The 3 blue orbs circled overhead. I've never been one for labels. UFO?
In the most rudimentary sense, sure. It was unidentified to some extent, but would any degree of identification truly find out its identity?

I'm not sure why, but I knew I had to leave. The voice pushed me off that roof and I could not see the blue orbs anymore.

She was only 15, showing her blossoming bosom to us.
He was 18, showing his blossoming bosom to us on camera, inducing vomit.

She has innocence aplenty, weaving and threading her succubi charms.

He knows a pretty girl in every town.
She threw herself off the roof in his favorite gown.

Old people love looking at pictures.

Food manufacturers are such liars.

Never listen to them. If you buy some frozen veggies or frozen meal sort of thing and it says on the package to microwave for 5 minutes, you do 4 minutes.

Don't listen to their 5 minute recommendation unless you want to scald your tongue.
If I ate stuff cooked at 5 minutes in a microwave, I wouldn't have a mouth anymore.

Ow, fuck! Ignore what I just wrote.

I took my food out and it honestly could have done with only 3 minutes. Still really hot.

Pyridoxine alpha-Ketoglutarate LOL.

That's the funniest thing I've ever heard.

The best cup size is something like a 34C.

Struggling to open a can at 7 AM.
With a can opener.

So drunk.

Struggling to hook up the cables for my PS2 to my TV at 8 AM.

So drunk.

I feel like in the 80s and early 90s, the color that ruled the world was sky blue. Like a light blue color. Women used to wear business suits that color to work until sometime in the late 90s, people said fuck it and switched to green.

I just did a move that nobody else ever did.

Wooden wings.

I'm made of Antimatter.

A murder happens. Some tenament downtown run by a slumlord. Quick two gunshots.

The detectives investigating the murder knock on 3A, the apartment next door. An old Russian woman revealed one withered and long finger, pointing, through the door crack. 

The detective introduces himself and his partner and flash their badge. The decrepit babushka opens the door slightly and peers her leathery face out. As the door widens, the detectives subconsciously scope out the area behind the old woman. A smell of pierogies emanates from her apartment, which has the lights turned off, but a boy in a wheelchair can be seen behind her.

"Excuse me, ma'am. We're detectives from the 21st precinct. Would you mind answering a few questions for our investigation?"

(Read in an East European accent)
"Eh, do I have to?"

"It would really help our investigation, ma'am."

(Read in an East European accent)
"Fine, but I know nothing."

"Ok, miss, now do you know anyone who visits your neighbor regularly?"

(Read in an East European accent)
"No, I keep to self. Keep to my business. I mind mine business."

"Do you know where your neighbor worked?"

(Read in an East European accent)
"I and him no talk." 

"Do you know your neighbor's name?"

(Read in an East European accent)
"I no have time for this."

"What's your name, miss?" was the last question the detective asked before the old woman shut the door on him. A lock could be heard turning in the background and a baby starts crying.


Dude, I'm so embarrassed how other countries feel about America. I'm going to focus on making things a little more classy around here so other countries don't think we live in such a disgusting shithole.

I've never actually HEARD Paramore.

RP Idea: Futuristic Satanist gang/cult injecting victims with methzombievirusdrug.

Do pharmacists have to take the Hippocratic Oath or are they not responsible if someone dies in front of them?

Like if you run into a hospital bleeding, staff will rush to help you. If you run into a pharmacy bleeding, will the pharmacists charge you money for bandages or medicine?

They totally will. They'll charge you money.
That's how fucked up the world is, I think. 

PRODUCT IDEA: A philosophy magazine based around horticulture and botany discussing conceptual ideas and possibilities and interactions in society today and how they affect the field of horticulture and botany, theoretically. 

In this world, I am Regina George and you're Gretchen Weiners.