"I can't wait to get out of here"
There was an urgency in his voice as each word fell over the other in their daring escape.
There was a genocide in her mouth and it cried for vengeance.
Their solace would not be found.

I never used to pride myself in my use of key-holes but there I was still panting heavily as I witnessed a rainbow of sounds and textures.
A long thin white cloth hung from the ceiling held a noose and inside it was a brush.
A brush I had used the previous day, it was a helping hand for me and the white picket fence had no holes.
A picturesque statue, the famed cat-woman on the prowl searching for her litter.
A generation of blind mole-like creatures had entered the world. Relying on a sense of smell and the colour of life.
They seeded the earth and the earth gave an orgasmic quiver.
Soon s/he would erupt in a violent convulsion of his/her anus.

A penetrative thought entered and searched for a long lost love of words and agility.
I wanted so to reach the finishing line but instead I wasted away with my tea and cakes.
It is such a sad moment when you have to give up your children, even worse when you get nothing but a ball of yarn to comfort you.
The kitten has claws and they tear the flesh, the blood flows freely and organises colonies across my body.
The rhythmical dancing of the tribe shamans build a rising flow of molecules. Outside myself I create a new body, free of thought, emotion and drive.
I pray to thee, I don't know who, Jesus Christ I hope...

It is a tentacle invading every orifice of my cerebral cortex. It mutates my biomechanics so that my electric webbing catches not flies but but but but flutterbies.
The flea may bite and the dog my howl as a cat may sing and a owl will growl.
Exchange of loving sentiments, a mother caressing her sons hair.
Exchange of loving sentiments, a father caressing his daughters hair.
It is a smell I will never forget, a smell you have under your nose at every waking moment and pray it will go away as the aerosol fumes burn your skin. Smoking flesh and still the shaman dances and sings.

She never gave what she got and never loved what she had she never wanted what she hated and continued to prance about and flinging her excrement across her shoulder hoping that it would never reach her god. Her mother of course lent a helping hand and continually bent over backwards and screamed. The god the god the god the god the god the god was mine and mine and mine and mine and his his his his loving loving loving loving loving caressing and making my stutter so much worse. Fuck me and leave me dry so that when the rain finally falls I might finally sprout something other than a decaying body that cannot move a mountain across the vast desert of a growing field.

The cat maliciously chases a mouse, not malicious because she intends to eat it but because the chase is the thrill and it is a never ending pull and grab. The tail never breaks and the hair never rises as high as the clouds gliding across a pale moon sky, dark blue like the deep waters where the fish grow their corn.
A living breathing industry, not breathing air of course but oxygen.
Industrial chemical warfare is not on the hands of the poor or the rich but on the hands of the little cockroaches, little do they know that cockroaches do not die, tests have been made, we have tried stabbing them, hanging, bombing, poisoning and over feeding. Nothing will kill them and they will outlive humans a thousand times over.

As I panted and panted and panted I noticed my pants had not been loosened, the hooker had died from pre-coital exhaustion. The steam built up on the window, it made little droplets and they ran across the window, not vertically but horizontally. The finishing line was the edge of my mouth and as the droplets catapulted away from the window towards my face I took a moment to close my eyes and enjoy the thought and taste of their massacred bodies and lives blood between my teeth. But, alas, faced with the horror of what was to come the droplets changed their trajectory in mid flight and changed position with airborne dust-mites. The taste, I was to find, would be dry, bitter and full of sorrow.

The sorrow had its own colour which tinted the colour of my eyes. No longer were my eyes the shocking grey and yellow but a meld of love, light and peace.
I would never find happiness again.

It was a huge forest that she had been walking through. A long path made out of golden bricks.
The gold was the same kind of gold as his eyes, its eyes, her eyes, their eyes, our eyes, his eyes.
On her way she met a fair few of characters, Webster's creations. She wanted to find Home again.
There were no trees and she had never been mellow. The coloured girls never used to sing so high.
She climbed onto the topmost branch and started to bellow. Her voice flew far above the towers.

"Have I ever been here?" She wondered as the colours spewed from her ears.
The answer didn't come so much as it misted the air. Red, White and Blue.
What is the colour of this forest I ask you now dear reader, if you have it in your minds eye.
It is the colour of sadness yes? it is the colour of bread yes? it is the colour of you mothers lullabies yes?
Blue, Brown and Comfort.
She painted the skies with her gaze and they never looked quite the same.

There are six sexes, sex sixes, sick sexex, sexk sixix. O lover is a lover of a love that's been loved far to many times.
The language of the heart is to be objectified, synchronised, catagorised and liquidated.
For the sake of a socially realistic conformity of a mind that travels the road to... well you know where.
Webster had never intended this had he? I wonder what he would say now? Did he intend on the slavery of our enzymes?
I had looked within myself and seen the face of a maze, it was but a straight line all the way down to the topmost end of my hair.
It lead everywhere in the world.
I've never been to any of those places.

We met on that road, we stopped for a cup of coffee and we had a chat, She and I.
I asked her "Where have you come from?"
She replied "I came from my mother who in turn came from her mother and who came from her mother... it has been a family tradition for centuries."
She asked me "Where have you come from?"
and I replied "my father came and there I was as did his father and there my father was as did his father and then his father was and this has been a tradition for eons."
"It is the way things are yes?"
"quite so."
"How did you come to be in this place?"
"I walked a long way and with every step I took I laid another brick in the bridge that would eventually transport me to a world where the sky seemed to be tainted with gold."


Is this the return to Oz?

She had always wondered about my line of lineage, after about a year of sipping she finally asked me about it.
I had always intended on telling her the next time it was my turn to speak but I had always forgotten how to express my family through my skin.
She laughed and said "yes"
Turns out she's my sister. She's not the sister you all know and love but she is rather my sister as my brother as my mother as my... my... my... my.... mice.

I have this image stuck in my head, it's been there for a long time. I can see myself floating above Reykjavík. I am shining like a star and all the hate and anger and bigotry and death and sickness and envy is flowing into me. I am a converter, I glow as all of these energies flow into my heart and with every fiber of my existence I transform it a healing power. When I have changed all of this energy. I explode and die. The healing energy flows from the point of my death in a shining pink and green and golden wave that travels across the earth. It heals the hearts of everyone it passes giving them the freedom to be open and happy and loving. Every single machine in the world is transformed to become a natural alternative that will keep the earth healthy and the earth is healed as well. Every single animal in the world finds a way to live without killing and every single human in the world sees the truth of life and death and they too find a way to live without killing. As the wave reaches the opposite end of the planet it condenses in a single point and shoots out from the planet to the sun and there it becomes a perpetual fuel source that will give the planet earth sunshine for eternity.

I would be happy but you see there is a house growing in a mouse growing in a tree thats rooted in my brain. There's not enough room for my thoughts and them at the same time. It is quite embarrassing.

Where do emotions live?

We finished our coffees and said our goodbyes and headed our separate ways. We have a little sewing thread between us. Short as eternity and long as a second.

It is a joke and as a joke it makes people laugh.

It is a speech and as a speech it gives inspiration.

It is a story and as a story people don't believe it.

It is a lie and as a lie people believe every single word of it.

It is what you make it and as everything you make it's prone to malfunction.

When I reached the forest I climbed to the topmost branch and started to bellow.
The sky never looked quite the same.
The bricks where the colour of his eyes.
There were no trees.
The coloured girls sang
and it was huge.

Today there is a frivolity in our use of words and sentences. people who waste to many words to say very simple things. People also use words rather than just doing what they mean to say.

So I propose an idea!

Today you will make your immediate surrounding world a little bit better, more beautiful and kinder.

Take these sentences:

I love you.

I'm happy to see you.

You look pretty.

You are amazing.

Thank you.

Thank you for being in my life.

I'm glad I know you.

You make my life a better place to live in.


Look at these sentences and really see them, understand what they mean for you.
Now pick one, or make one up and pick a person that you will meet today and say it to them.
This will create positive feelings and therefore make your world a little bit better.

And remember a hug or a kiss or a smile go a long way.

Let's make the whole world better with tiny little efforts.

Thank you for reading this, I'm glad that you did.

~Spookyo_O

It's deep in my memory, a little flower, a little blue flower, blue flower that clings, little blue clinging flower.
He says "butterflies aren't made for walking, they were brought up as an alternative to bees" and I believed it.

They walked with me all the way down to the cellar and there we stood for a while, we watched as the the the, the, the. the.
White screen showed us sweet, bitter and sour all melting together in one colorful harmony. You could almost hear them whispering their secrets.

It was a huge brown staircase and the mould was rapidly climbing up in front of us, when it finally reached our backs. Our backs disconnected with the rest of the reality around us. My back sprouted legs. I had never been so-so-so-so-50-50-50... 50 million little ants are building me a throne, I will reach it one day.

Slow like a wasp. As you saw them on the discovery channel, sucking the honey out of the womb.

"Are you happy?" "I only barely missed it." "Have you ever been happy?" "I once dreamt of verona."

"How is your mother?"

"I never once said thank you, thank you for every single letter in the alphabet!"

"Lovers love, givers give, takers hold and mickey mouse isn't afraid of showing his face here." "He is a good friend of mine, we shared a cab once in my life, his ears are smaller in real life but he doesn't want people to talk about it" "nononononononono"

This isn't happening, the letters are all wrong and I cant get them to fit! My fingers are cold and so are you! I am lost in this sea of uncertainty and I feel I must agree with the big man because futility and eternity are only different by a few letters!

Old habits die hard, the red and blue of my heritage are swirling in my blood, my blood of course being red predominantly pushes aside my colder aspects. Sunlight can bring me into vitality and green can catch it so very well. If my mother had been green she would have seen the world in a much better light. harmony, symphony and tiny little keyholes. My gun is armed and you shall be shot soon, the barrel is aimed and at the back of your head you can feel the pressure mounting, without touching I can see my target, 10.......................................................... 9........................................... 8........................................
7.....................................
6..........................
5.....................
4............
3........
2.....
50 million spider legs sprouting out of the middle of my brain, they search and love and eat and collect and paint and dance and chime like a bell.

It's in the way I look at you, it's the way I touch your face, it's the way I bite your nose, it's the way the tears swell in my eyes, it's in my beauty, it's in my prolonged erection and it's in my premature. Quite happily.

you voice is a spurt of orange and brown, cold colors that give the effect of swimming against a loud current.

Green: "I have never and I never will be violent"
Yellow: "why so negative?"
Green: "Because you persistently copy my personality, you copy me like a 5 year old"
Yellow: "it is only because of my love for you"
Green: "How do you love me?"
Yellow: "How do you love me?"
Green: "Like an amazing torrent, more than the rainbow loves the rain and more than an arrow loves blood"
Yellow: "How do you love me?"
Green: "Like the multitude of colors in a drunken vomit pool"
Yellow: "How do you love me?"
Green: "Like my mother loved the orgasm that conceived me"
Yellow: "How do you love me?"
Green: "It is a talent that I have, it gives me the opportunity to fish for sharks with my own flesh"
Yellow: "How do you love me?"
Green: "Because I was taught to never be wasteful"
Yellow: "How do you love me?"
Green: "By following the crash instructions on the airplane guide"
Yellow: "How do you love me?"
Green: "The same way you love me"

Violet is a step away from violent and a step away from blue. Containing all the life in the world is water, clear and loving as a chrysalis loves the warm bed upon which it lays.

I come from a country far to the north, it is essentially an island in the middle of nowhere but it is a warm place. My mother lives there and my family lives there and so does my sister, grandmother, grandfather and my cat. This is a lie.

I actually come from a place far to the south, I have never seen snow. I am petrified of dogs. My family is small, there are three of us, when the 3 of us come together we have a beer together and sing songs that I got taught in school. This is a lie.

I tried and I failed but the final product was successful and I regret everything! Eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity was eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity.

"I never once said thank you, thank you for every single number in the alphabet!"