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#i know thats not the original line but i felt fly little bird was a bit lacking
jesmeraki · 4 months
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"Fly high, little bird"
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iwadori · 3 years
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So I'm reading your works and I love them !! I was thinking of requesting some kind of drabble or whatever you like, about a female reader who has thick thighs and is somewhat plump and is in love with Tsukishima but he makes a comment about the food and she feels bad and when she meets Bokuto in the boot camp Bokuto is too cute and attentive to her asking for her number and a date. If you don't feel comfortable with this, just ignore it and good luck with your blog. Sorry my english is bad<3
When they make you insecure PT 5 (tsukishima,bokuto)
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Part One Part Two  Part Three Part Four  Part Five Part 6
Word Count: 2.6K
Genre: Angst to Fluff
masterlist
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Tsukishima
You and Tsukishima have been dating in your first year (as you both went to the same middle school together.)
You were in love with Tsukishima, you always have been to be honest, but once you became officially boyfriend and girlfriend your feelings amplified.
But recently, Tsukishima hasn’t been so nice.  
“Y/N we’re going on another training camp at Nekoma” Hinata exclaimed running up to you, as you leaning against Tsukishima “and you get to come too this time!”
You recently became the new trainee manager as the third-year manager, Kikyoko, is going to graduate. Tsukishima acted as if you being around all the time in practice was the worst thing in the world, but Yamagucchi always assured you that ‘Tsukki’ was just joking.
“Oh well that’s fun...” you say entertaining Hinata’s excitement. You were kind of excited to go to the training camp too, as it was in Tokyo after all. You were always a big fan of volleyball as your dad used to play for the national team and you were planning to play on the girls team this year but you felt that you didn’t have the body for it (which was obviously not true.)
Hinata kept on rambling on before Tsukishima insulted him. “Gosh Kei, you don’t have to be so rude.” you complained, he slightly nudged you off of him and put on his headphones showing you that he was not in a good mood.
You let the rest of the practice continue, making notes of things and basically being Kiyoko’s shadow. As it ended, you waited outside for Tsukishima to walk home with you, but one of the guys told you he left 5 minutes ago. You knew there was no point of chasing after him so you just walked on your own, making you sigh in defeat.
Tsukishima was what you would describe as hot and cold. Some days he was fine a ‘perfect gentlemen’ but other days, days like this Tsukishima was just Tsukishima.  
When you got home, you decided to watch matches of all the other schools just to get some insight. You were watching a Fukarodani V Nekoma match from a few years ago and something caught your eye, well someone did to be more specific. A beefy, bicolour haired boy who was hooting like an owl was mesmerizing to watch.
You saw that his name was Bokuto Koutarou which triggered your next actions, which were to internet stalk him. You learned that he was the captain of the team and the team’s ace and the 5th ace in the country which piqued your interest in the boy even more.
‘This is going to be an exciting training camp’ you think to yourself before going to sleep.
`Kiyoko gave you an itinerary of all the things you should bring, since you weren’t going to be joining in any of the matches you were reminded to bring things that would keep entertained.  
You get to the bus at the crack of dawn, ready to be driven to Tokyo. Hinata and Kageyama were already arguing (let’s pretend that they didn’t have to do the retakes in the test) Tanaka and Nishinoya were being loud, and the rest of the members were already asleep. You wanted to sit next to Tsukishima but when you were about to sit down, he put his carryon bag in the seat next to him.
The bus ride was around 4-5 hours, and you spent your time reading and sleeping. Daichi got the loudmouths to calm down making the bus ride more tolerable. You suffered from slight motion sickness but you powered through.
When you arrived there, you saw all the other teams and their buses too. You felt a bit overwhelmed, seeing these tall boys just crowd around an entrance way. But too your surprise, noticing your slight anxiousness, Tsukishima grabbed your hand in a hand-hold.  
The Nekoma coach, explained how the day would pan out and where each team would be residing for the week. There was a lot of commotion getting everyone settled, Hinata and Nishinoya were basically bouncing off of the wall commenting on all the people and the place and how they’re going to ‘crush the competition.’  
You could tell that when the other teams were looking at Karasuno they were all staring at Kiyoko. Inquisitive about how there wasn’t only one girl manager but there was two. As you were walking your eyes locked with Bokuto Koutarou’s making yours widen, you blush and turn your head quickly.  
What you didn’t know was, after your small interaction, Bokuto elbowed Akaashi and said “Akaaashi AKKAAASHI, did ya see that? did ya?” he was flying with happiness “That girl from Karasuno smiled at me. She’s really pretty.”
“I think she’s from Karasuno” Akaashi said “So maybe you’ll see her around”
Bokuto stared off in the direction you were walking in “Yeah, hopefully.”
The first day, everyone got settled in and then the teams went straight into games. There were two different gyms and today, in gym 1, you were watching Karasuno V Nekoma. (By the way I literally don’t remember the teams at the training camp besides Nekoma, Karasuno and Fukarodani.) The game was very back a point each team making point after point, you already knew of Nekoma’s captain, Kuroo Testurou and the setter Kenma, you’ve actually played games with Kenma online before so you were fairly acquainted with him already.
The games ended and it was now dinner time, the canteen was packed with all the boys rushing to line up for the food. You waited at the back of the line, not really caring about when you got your food. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder and you looked over to see Boktuo,  
“Hi.” he said “I’m Bok-”
“Bokuto Koutarou!” You finished “I'm a big fan..” you cringed immediately at your excitement ‘pull it together Y/N’ you scold yourself.
“Oh well hi, I’m glad you know who I am” he said “and may I ask for your name?”  
“Oh I’m Y/N L/N” you say with a slight blush “I'm the trainee manager from Karasuno.”  
“Cool! Well I hope to see you aro-” he starts  
“Y/N, I’ve been looking all over for you, I already got your food for you.” Tsukishima said pulling at your arm a bit harshly, dragging you over to a table with the Karasuno team.
“Gosh Tsukki, no need to be so harsh” you say rubbing at your wrist, he didn’t apologize and just started eating his food.  
You look down at your plate and see the small portion that Tsukki got for you. The Karasuno bunch was being loud, as they usually are, so when you whisper “Tsukki what the fuck is this” whilst nudging him in the side, he didn’t hear you (or atleast he pretended he didn’t.) You tried again but a little louder saying, “Tsukishima what the fuck is this.” you realised you said it a bit too loud as the whole Karasuno table stopped their conversations to look over at the slight commontion you caused.
“What do you mean Y/N?” he said with a slight smirk on his face.
“I mean what’s with the portion size of a bird that you gave me?” you ask getting upset “Do you really think im that big?”
“Well, you could start eating less that’s for sure.” he said earning gasps from you and some of the people sitting at the table “Y/N let's face it, you eat like a pig and you look like an elephant, me making your food portion smaller is the least I could do.”  
By now you had tears in your eyes, Tsukishima was a dick. You knew this, everybody knew this to be honest, yet you still loved him. He wasn’t like this in middle school, yes he was a bit snarky and rude (but wasn’t every middle schooler?) High school Tsukishima was like a completely different person. As much as you wanted to run away and hide, you knew you couldn’t.  
So you stood up and said “Tsukishima, I’ve spent 3 years loving and pining after you, because I thought you were this great guy, but turns out you’re a huge asshole” you start making some of the people listening in smile in laughter “Tsukishima, I’ve hated this past year dating you, you’ve been such a huge dick and I’m finally stopping you. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t.” You start making your way to exit before finally saying “Oh and by the way I’m not the pig here, you are... oh and I’m breaking up with you.” You left, hearing a few laughs and some claps behind you.
You felt relieved, like the massive cloud that’s been over your head is finally gone. You went to the gym since you knew it was empty and picked up a ball to just throw it around a bit. After a while of ‘de-stressing,’ you hear someone else enter the gym.
“Oh I didn’t know you’d be here.” said Bokuto  
“Well here I am,” you say awkwardly “I can leave if you want me too, I know this is for actual volleyball players.”
“No no it’s fine you can definitely stay, in fact do you mind setting for me?” he asks  
“Sure, of course I don’t mind” you reply, excited you get to play with someone.  You haven’t played in ages, you always begged Tsukishima to just throw a ball around with you but he never did.  
You set to Boktuo a lot, with him always asking for ‘another one’ everytime he spiked the ball. Eventually, you were tired of setting and wanted to spike. You originally was a spiker to begin with taking after your dad. Thats why you took a liking to Bokuto in the first place cause he reminded you of the joys you had when watching your father play.
Bokuto set a ball to you and you spiked it with great strength and accuracy smiling at the burning feeling you felt in your palm.  
“Woahh” Bokuto shouted going towards you in amazement “Where did you learn how to spike like that?”
“From my dad, I don’t know if you heard of him before but my dad’s name is D/N L/N...?” you say
“D/N L/N, Y/N he is my idol!” he shouted again “I want to be just like him.”
“I think you can, I see a lot of similarites in the way you both play.” you say
“Really! And you’ve seen me play before..?” he asks
“Yeah, I watched some of your games before coming here... you’re really good” you shyly admit.
“Wow.”
You and Bokuto spend the rest of your time, talking about volleyball you’re interests, things you have in common, your likes and dislikes. Talking to Bokuto was refreshing, he didn’t randomly insult you or make snide comments about your weight or your looks. He just genuinely looked happy to be there talking to you, unlike Tsukishima.  
Seeing your change in mood, Bokuto stops talking and asks “are you alright? I forgot to ask earlier, but I saw what happened in the canteen and I hope you’re okay.”  
“Yeah I’m fine, it’s just things with me and Tsukishima reached a breaking point, I guess...” you say sniffling a bit talking about it “But it’s fine now I’ve broken up with him and I feel better already.”
“So you’re saying your single...?” he asked blushing a bit
“Yeah I guess I am...” you smile blushing also.  
“Okay great...well I hope this isn’t too forward after everything happened with Tsukki and all but...” he starts “but would you like to go on a date with me?”
“Who me?” you ask as if you weren’t the only other person in the room
“No the volleyball” he responds sarcastically “Of course you Y/N.”  
“Are you sure, cause to be honest Bokuto you’re a really good-looking guy” you say making him smile widely “so I think you need someone to match your level in attractiveness” you look down and his smile drops.
“What do you mean?” he asks before realising all the stuff Tsukishima said about you “Y/N you’re beautiful, your face, your body just you.” you blush at his words “when I first saw you when you were walking past us in the entrance way the first thing I thought and said about you was “Akaashi who is that girl she’s beautiful.””  
“Really?” you ask with disbelief
“Mhm” he nods excitedly “So will you go on a date with me?”  
“I guess so...” you say a bit unsure
“HEY HEY HEY!” he exclaims “I gotta go tell akaashi!” he runs out of the gym in a hurry making you laugh, but he comes back to give you a quick unexpected kiss on the cheek making you smile.
You checked your phone for the time realising that you’ve been with Bokuto for 3 hours and you knew that everyone would be going to sleep now. As you are the manager you slept seperately from the rest of the team but before you went to your sleeping quaters you went to Karasunos.  
“Y/N where have you been? We’ve been worried about you.” asked yammagucchi  
“It’s fine yams don’t worry about it, guys” you say catching everyones attention “I just wanted to apologise to you for my outburst at dinner, it wasn’t my intention to cause a scence.”
“It’s fine Y/N” said sugawara “He definitely deserved it.”
“Yeah as your marvellous senpai we gave him a good telling off” said Tanaka and Nishinoya  making you chuckle.  
“Okay well thanks guys, I’m going to sleep goodnight.”
“Wait Y/N can I speak with you.” asked Tsukishima gesturing to outside the room
“Umm sure” you respond following him into the corridor.
“I just want to say I’m sorry for the things I’ve said and done over the past year and how I’ve been a terrible boyfriend, you don’t deserve that. So, I’m sorry.”  
“I can’t say I can forgive you yet.” you say making Tsukishima look sad “but maybe with effort from you we can become friends possibly?”  
“Just friends?” he said with hope in voice thinking that you could be something more.
“Just friends.” you repeated and confirmed “Besides I have been asked on a date”  
“With who?”  
“None of your business stingyshima” you mock the nickname that Hinata calls him making him scowl and you smile “Goodnight.”
After Bokuto’s confession and Tsukishima’s apology, the rest of the training camp went off without a hitch. In your breaks and lunchtimes, you got to know more about Bokuto and with Kuroo’s help you even got to sneak out to actually go on your date. You sometimes even went to practice with them getting to show off your skills, with Bokuto cheering you on and complimenting you every single time.  
Tsukishima kept his distance for the most part, and kept the snarky comments about you and Bokuto to himself (even though he was dying to say them.) You eventually fully forgave Tsukishima in your 3rd year but you definitely weren’t as close as you used to be. Tsukishima’s comments and actions did affect you for a while however with the help of your loving boyfriend, you were reminded how beautiful you are no matter what weight, shape or height you were.
You and Bokuto stayed together, you made sure to come to every one of his games and when you introduced him to your dad he fainted on sight. Your dad and Bokuto got along, and became very close friends, Bokuto always came to him for advice (especially volleyball advice.) You loved Bokuto and he definitely loved you too.
AN: I hope you liked it, since I didn’t want to make it too similar too the Atsumu insecure one. And I feel like it dragged out a bit but got rushed in the endd....but oh well...
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turuses-blog · 5 years
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Mute pt.
Alternative Lit Johnathan Edward Barrett Urbalonis
Copyright 2019
ALTERNATIVE LIT
trippy wisdom given to words
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WRITINGS
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deadly nightshade on a rose
Posted by barrett on June 6, 2014 at 10:45 AM
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scantily wrought fences of just-turned-deep-red, read rights of leverage to the thorns that there wrest. a rustling of feather for the wind against the salut bricken brack, which if these were to wilt, still wouldn't form sullen vest. all now investing in a business, a night-lock to guard off spiders who trample on silk, like - sort of a call to arms on a coat of thread, which thick twisty greens would not abed. a cast of action in the worn breeze, easy to impress, though, just a lacklustre show all around makes it a deathly thing to fall in paro. lost in the lake a boy with tong hands serrates, bliss and wouldn't miss arrive a lucid parliament that fate the dice at its gate.
when the phone ran
Posted by barrett on June 6, 2014 at 10:15 AM
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we aren't: part - parted - to depart upon our hearts' fair compartment. an apartment view with a lockpick, key to rampint desertion of a lip of rearrangement notice. 'preferred - our - hour to post pardon the ploxick (several metallic solid flats on a ring that doesn't rust), twice- denote sick out of slang or of a toxic; ways to find chalk kick. alter fast cerebral mask... the what? the ears... twice had; listening to a ploxick till the connotation rang with just the jittery sound. and sometime some laugh at otto and homer when the phone rang.
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bell jar 1
Posted by barrett on June 3, 2014 at 6:00 PM
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awaking to the time 3:30. coldfront and bird chirps. lake breeze and talk about trees. maslow's heirarchy of needs - be - monolithic i'm deed, as those: astute; finger cramp tailor's can produce. but isn't that the perfect fit? when will it be nostalgic to wear something else.
perplexity
Posted by barrett on May 31, 2014 at 2:30 PM
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arriving concave, jostled by a fir tree, the hammocked backend of the real mirror in use began accompany.
as far as we know, trees are very hard to knock down, though we can sleep in a tent or hammock, and understand it. horizontally?
perplexity
Posted by barrett on May 31, 2014 at 2:30 PM
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arriving concave, jostled by a fir tree, the hammocked backend of the real mirror in use began accompany.
as far as we know, trees are very hard to knock down, though we can sleep in a tent or hammock, and understand it. horizontally?
tailored sheen
Posted by barrett on May 31, 2014 at 1:30 PM
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a brilliant, orthodox woman. with strings of galaxies plummetting from her natural sombrero. like 'what would she wear. 'though incomplete, she dances probably with steep falls inbetween elite things that remind me of a sombrero. a cadillidac convertor tattooed on her favorite shirt. this is not too real. insofar as i describe her she merits tangible relapses into beauty. knowing most things about her would require a chair. and chairs or no chairs, sombrero and insofar as sombrero, tangible relaptic strings of galaxies which i add insofar as it lasts for however long. however.
cosmeriment
Posted by barrett on May 31, 2014 at 1:25 PM
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every other, insofar as both, as construed, are or our lover. where the sinking sand is truth. now and then, insofar as false, one or two, remain constrained to a patch, a field, a cyclic ameobic dealing with the ineptitude of love. are or our love? which lasts longer. like 'also-' witch lasts longer. which are witch our lover love stoop.
from a binocular a bird follows then insofar as takes flight.
isn't this where the magical birds come from?
and
Posted by barrett on May 24, 2014 at 5:45 PM
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             it was unpleasant. the whole ordeal. i made toast earlier and it seems to have disappeared. the toaster was not out. where, most importantly when. ive been up for about an hour and a half. what have i done other than toast bread... just then L walks in the door. he told me about the toast i ate in front of him. was that a crumb on his chin.. he told me how i walked, almost sleeping, back to bed, with the intent, to toast more... it was then, L said, lets have a toast. couldve meant like four things... he cant be trusted. L raised a peice of bread and there appeared around me many guests at and around the table, though on the other side of the toaster... I dont know why i wasnt scared, I was too hungry. Then I disappeared.
passin me by
Posted by barrett on May 24, 2014 at 5:35 PM
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they say i say the lottery is passing me by. one way, this way im on a road with no tombstone around to wave hi. the day of which and when, though its passable at convenience, is off road and tangible through a womb a wreckage and decay. i said , decaying with Gods children was building a rhythm... now artifacts of cars and syntax hold me to a sky of disdain. reclaiming an idle position is hard at times, on this road to ala coaster, spring flout letter intendency i unreign for something ever after, rest in peace harold raimes, and anyone gone on the way around the desert. it seems surprisingly small, perhaps the tombstones lay in the sand hazards.
passin me by.
a rule not a thumb
passin me by
a thumb not a rule
passin me by
whys everything sought after after
passin me by
a highways a noose before its strung into fibres.
untitled
Posted by barrett on May 20, 2014 at 1:00 AM
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a relic gifted in stone, found, dethrowned from the wall. embedded in a stone. rhythmic licensure of a chisel might fit it enough to bring it home. as i said... prone focus, a 'fast' fastening to a thread. spanning it bears the color red, a ruby. from the look of it, i'd say its dead meet.
quintessential byproduction is a growing field, i think.
typecast publishers boycott surmounting headlines; too many cases of rigormortis,
and that still doesnt hold flame like the fresh stake on the sill...
thin
Posted by barrett on May 19, 2014 at 4:40 PM
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a caterpillar hangout to the hummingbird in the morning. over toast passing french. graduation hat vertical complex, duo original animations that string out like a sandstorm. crystal yet elements of partake, abashed with no duration. all form unified specifications for a distraught mot liason. original favouring tricyclic milk glasses. 'like strawberry flavour, is going to keep me wrapt with this newspaper. 'back when paper was new, sort of sorting of the stork's occasion, to see inert pegs, cut, paste on.
inaudible recordings of select indivisions
Posted by barrett on May 19, 2014 at 2:25 PM
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If it occured to anyone, it has ownership of value, if value is sought in activity. any valued thought allows vocation or hitherto spirited activity. but of what value can the same thought be?
in allegiance, it may be necessary to rekindle the same thought, even though it is counter-intuitive. its actually used in that fashion of malcontent, accruing a different vocation. this is where value becomes spent.
"i never said i loved you. your heart of malcontent was spent on my breaks."
tifa lockhart
Posted by barrett on May 19, 2014 at 2:00 PM
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believe that i can fly. in a world
i see before me laying down the
sky, in a precautious sort of learning.
believe that these can.
whatever they are for others too
hold hands, built to ravish clouds
just testing what wear
hair lengths,
i would like to fly longer
what if i pair with
a parrot
a loch ness monster
a pidgeon
a mobster
'belie dat
thats how it started,
for all these lines, and time is ownlay: carving
the root of what i see,
come follow me, to aesop and sega genesis
where apparel costs the prophet
a glance, with which a slippet can defeat the solace
now ive truly expounded.
"i imagine sloppy seed handling."
the image is like a mirror
the listening skills of a mirror form partial glances to belie the harvest
where?
believe that these can
you'll forget it or knot
this lillie is prime place and principle
ooh look what mom bought
now im caught between a rose and a stout...
wait a second,
white paint
Posted by barrett on May 14, 2014 at 9:00 PM
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breaking buildings of trust, epithet lustrous. I want an effigy to read me. lost stuff, pleads 'be'. in a land full of happiness lived a friendly octopus, who need-be tangled up with rustic 'font', little does this octopus know of where its stowed, or going, though he felt snow on top of a boat about a week ago. oh, and between me thumbs, sorry for the wait, and whatever, though I also love my metaphors intact as tressels can become.
only breaking a building.
if it weren't for the antipathy of an occasive injury supplanted by porridge-wrought inert-asive-ship, this belittled sea creature could create a censure wherever it was plait. no more, no more.
the shore broke the sand.
at last stands a villa of domicilia, and like cilia the people tangle through the festivities.
life and the eternal eclipse of finding, part two
Posted by barrett on May 14, 2014 at 7:45 PM
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"everything should just be this way." said gypsum and led them to a sunken cavern hollow where it was dark. "if we light any fire we shall be blinded by the reflections of the treasure over the treasure. its best we hollow out the treasure in sequence to get it all out." and so they did.
it was high time they made back with the treasure, but no one wanted treasure anymore, except them. luckily every home in the village had a little treasure. yet to be, was the equal or lesser want of treasure. they had flat discs of metal, and cuttings of stone, shaped weapons of a different metal, and jewellery of all types. bailey didn't even want his horse back.
here we see what a geologist does
life and the eternal eclipse of finding, part one
Posted by barrett on May 14, 2014 at 7:05 PM
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"in a far off place, there are treasures" gypsum said, "I can take you there, to them, if the price is right."
"if the price is right, then." Hamlin said.
gypsum held back his horse which was drawing closer from the stable, alongside bailey. "the only problem is that they are guarded by the utmost, wickedest creature known to man, yet not creatures." gypsum got on the horse.
Hamlin stunted his smile and asked the valiant-assuming, postured knight what he meant.
"it is guarded by treasure."
in this tale we see the characters distraught.
a starlit necessary
Posted by barrett on May 14, 2014 at 6:55 PM
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blanket starch bold allegiance to the thrown of two for the basket. cloth never reminded me so much of eggshell, said with a mist of chalk or something. no doubt today would flout the risking of a pantomime. by very well boisterous rising of swells that dawn allegedlldy fell. somewhere else. a felt tip drags, and some mothers cry.
sweeping a ray in nightly tide, venomous uncouth hand holding that say to the nightingale across the shore: fly by! if its up to pigment to gain the moon, neither could tell, but a bright lightning light, storms her deep memory of perchance and wail and wait and why.
the arrow fur of a tonic hold deep aghast, cast sheep on the clouds that peeve and prance whisking away the tide. trial neatly folded the blanket is now set. ready for everything, yet, not in a young sort of way. asking, where is this place, and where are we off to mixes backwards and time, slightly grazes her arm and they beg to ask why.
the moon held an old coat from her closet the lake or river, or both, made a inaudible concert the blanket lay in pieces.
the next day sprung, like no one had been there, save a patch of flattened earth, the size of about two people, those that truly are due.
,hard to see fit, a reminisce, acquiesced by either while they choke on fever, under blankets so warm inside or out waiting for the sun, for no reason.
diatribe
Posted by barrett on May 14, 2014 at 5:50 PM
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it was around the ninth that a segment of the show aired in the middle of a stream of commercials. it was hailed as the only thing to look for afterwards.
bob sprocket came into work with a ticket for his leave, unknowingly, being the only member of his team to have caught a fixed the glitch
anyway, on the twelvth they had it savvy, worked like an extra suspension cable to the workings of a television show and anchored the commercial representativity to a glistening extreme.
on the thirteenth they aired a fake commercial for 'sprocket cleanser,' a little too much like a commercial. somewhere else they thought of making the product.
bob sprocket oriented himself in the lunch room before nine oclock on the fifteenth, when he noticed his picture was on the television, him from when he started working at the small initiate of office. he took his leave the following day.
things got a little messy.
«
clothes
Posted by barrett on May 6, 2014 at 3:45 PM
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three thousand years ago, and now before, a something like a sentient building will cast existence flames like sewing a curtain. a rif in the time continuum. without knowledge of us it shall pick up where it left off and we`ll be held in trust. it happens all the time, mayybe. maybe just the sound distinguishing remarks of a plot punctured. surfers these days should know all about, but it seems like they don`t.
if it were to ever happen, its most likely to be ferretted into convenient thought of a more widespread diaspora and be hassled into notation, being the differennce between now and then solely; whether it provides either way is categorically imperative and no stress we could come up with in physics could partake in its mysterious intuition.
nevermind
Posted by barrett on April 21, 2014 at 1:35 PM
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a rare breed of dog called the foglace has been meritoriously attributed to the southern hemisphere of the continent of the americas. Deep in the subtropical jungles of eastern peru there was found several packs of this breed. the foglace is of a predictable discretion, though with mild anterior bends on the ears; a large patch of black on the stomach & a lime orange tinge coating it in lacey fur. the dog hunts at twilight for prey like lemurs and muscrats, never consuming them whole, especially at first take.
the breed has recently travelled up to the tip of the panamalian canal's south side, where it inveritably waits for passage. it is being debated whether or not the dog should be introduced to a broader, dryer cllimate, as invariably breedds shall mix.
thus brings me to the account of one Peter Jogstone, a breeder of dogs and kennel keeper in at least three states. he attained a sample of the dogs hair and immediately orderred one.. two very profound events, one merit, one surmount. to his lliking he now has one male foglace. in the summer of last year he travelled to alaska with it, which he called dawson.
missing
Posted by barrett on April 21, 2014 at 4:45 AM
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course of these whimsy feverish lips and
towards you, feel restrained with locks; this feeble
attempt of garullous youthful tolerance
fills me with thee revolt of people's keep-all
circunscription where the laughter is fake.
Though a laugh shared between there and here is,
partly made practical by the weery stakes
the enamorred with whichever might kiss.
attentive recourse in all but just that
can extinguish a messy happenning
and to you i say this is just a flat
surface of thorns to call a bed again
ageless prospective atrocious kissing
versus the time it was fun to do so (
art
Posted by barrett on April 21, 2014 at 4:25 AM
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he has grace together that cares so
a caress from his hand could score wax
an utterable countenace with arrows
often marked as woman, though more man.
'at leisure he spotted yes and no
and decided to drop anchor,
with a pull string on his ward so
he let the talk come from the pure
help wanted
Posted by barrett on April 21, 2014 at 4:10 AM
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a frightening evening is all she could recall, and on this very night it started - to the extent of her interpolation - with the same few odd quirks. its funny, her and betty always seemed to dote on myla's quirks, it seemed indifferent till about two weeks ago and tonite. the two in likely sweep from work to granite street where they part ways was wayward and elongated by the extra two hours they had to put in. as i was saying, the moon shined a yellow pallor and seemed to move the clouds like curtains. sometimes they would look up and see nothing. their talk was hurried and just short ofpanic in the late evening hour where no cars would pass by and the hedges creeped. as a tactful glance into the structure of their conversation which i waiting for myla's arrival made out afterwards, was that they seemed to be coming back to the same topic of what it is like to walk by a cemetery. myla and betty ended up at granite street safely and parted. myla told me she heard betty's dog a lot sooner than usual and that it made her feel diffident - the term she used.
For the next week she remained diffident in all bodice and color; her movements, her appraisal, her reprize all diffident. i started seeing her in a new light, like she was getting over something, or for the most part, was over something.
naughts
Posted by barrett on April 20, 2014 at 8:35 PM
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a net silence of glossy colored sheets flared up with the coffee. he gave them a look and removed the green one. 'ah a sensation' he gloated. 'for that green coated slip was mean, no more meandering at the bottom of the chain. he put it on top of the manilla. already virtuoso reptilian, though flushed emerald in the light from beside the computer.
the office lights werent on, he was last to leave already, and on the sidewalk -manilla / green flanking his right side.
the next day the reverse was put on Chimey's desk and he waited for the slips to come in again, both. the coffee... nothing... the lights... nothing, it seems he'd be fired, so he looked back to the clock. time was ticking by.
the coffee, the lights.
the coffee, the lights.
the coffee, the lights.
at home on saturday he received a green phone call. "too much manilla"
the coffee, the letterhead gold, the lights, the reflection, the phone call, the fine, the workers, the elevator, the ruby red, the address, the plot thickens, the coffee colored manilla, the entropy
fixed glossy coatings
orange corner
blank white by the hundred,
pink slips
no color up the sleeves on the way out the manager said, and so he never left that white letterhead.
paste and clips
all or nothing
a black sheet of paper tacked to the wall, only. validity. special reproach to candor manifestly opaque in difference, just a different outcome, where the colors' colors shine bright. black
afficiency
Posted by barrett on April 20, 2014 at 3:30 PM
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"only a villain so fantastic could have plotted something like this" the curtains were spread apart and light shined down on the muddy boot, alone, next to the eyeing jazz fiend. "i mean, theres no connection between this jazzman and anyone within ten miles. though there are a few laniards from a nearby festival held within a week of today everyear."
"how jolly"
"except he won't be at this festival, because he's dead."
"what! are you sure he isn't just creating jazz music...?"
"he might be, in jazz heaven..."
the scene was pretty dolled up. candles found their way onto open offering surfaces and a vinyl record player lay agape on the endtable across the floor.
"it seems he was entertaining."
"wait he's coming to."
the jazz man's grasp of the saxophone gave way and slid a little on the hardwood floor.
"no, just a reproof. hes dead. he won't be at the festival, it seems the murder was done by jazz itself, cuz no man can control it."
"he was good though." aaron said
"a little too good maybe." delroy said
"why don't we play the record and recreate the scene?"
"not till the jazzman is gone."
the grave words.
Occasive Down-end
Posted by barrett on April 17, 2014 at 7:35 PM
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             drowning in a sea of silk, a lightning strikes! and turns it to felt. 'Whatever happened to the simpler days, was never so complex. and often on a podium right next to the studio you can see the next. But blaintant rampint chronologies of force (touring) can only make sport for less-subdued blood, banishing the trudge of mud.
then we climb out, nails to the brink, time is stout, fail to think, just get yourself out, trails on brinks.
When did we have to say things like "thanks for the bargain." that really means something to me,
dare we fold an iris and seeth rew totalled and friendly to the scent of focus?
tending sticks for walking till repition
a blank face on a boat with a storm with a smile. either i'll paddle backwards or reginald will while i forth.
occasive buoyancy
Posted by barrett on April 17, 2014 at 7:25 PM
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in light of the spectrum, pixels animated readdress fulcrum. though like certain applications suggest it may act upon another axis. in light of this question i shall observe glasses and try to see through the seams of nature, conjugated. in light of hindsight i'd say there has been a lot of light shed on the subject. and in light im all opaque and with-feature. in light balance of statement, theory, plan, musing and what id like to call 'entropy', i feel all masked and ashamed in the dark and empty, wanting to talk about shells and repositioning my feet. first i will look up entropy, and tie it in:
done and done
the deaf ears for crazy
Posted by barrett on April 16, 2014 at 4:40 AM
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Crazy, the word, is a professed lazy assailant of one's marker. The strongest argument made by the latest philosopher's is a discontinuity between perception and reality. Imagine hearing the sound of a straw falling in a glass of water. Maybe to bite off more than one can chew is crazy, precept reside. Spanning the tromp de l'oeil of almost ritualized perceptive artifices, none stand out more than the one's with visual scrutiny. To think something can also be otherwise is otherwise is what? a charged antinomy and a lock? No matter how hard people try to agree there's no snug or perfect syncronizattion... So maybe some are crazy, but amongst themselves if the word holds  true, there should be some syncronization.
beck at it
Posted by barrett on April 16, 2014 at 4:30 AM
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dusty vinyl records, stayin that way cause collections. people with vinyl are a grouping, theyve extended function to quality with respects to guessing. ritual also endorses the use of vinyl, many disc jockies know it too well, enough to have concerts out ofone and two vinyl players.
when vinyl records first came out it was precarious and resplendent. listening to music was more of an activity, probably based soley on the movement of people. today music is easier to access and control. so why are there people playing vinyl?
The only plausible answer is, that they haven't pirated any music and their music is all or mostly on the records they spin.
to be continued
eye care
Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 6:45 PM
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an interogation of whats on hand, warrant received amidst a desperate man. Check everything. they would like to wouldn't. a round off of bullet, several cut carrots on a wood plate.
pate...
hasty taken provided liquid crystal displayed moments later he checked the fridge. (this is where it all comes in)
he found a note, right above the bag of carrots: eat carrots
Cast Cupid
Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 6:40 PM
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Practical alignments' gathered feathers fettered... shuffle tilt rust recalls.
An inumeralbe immunity of pox of letters... that suffice to say it's fall.
Why this distance mistakes birds' calls for getting recon.
As whitening cold abound so thin and transparent on heat.
Pleating desperation for a new tomorrow in calm promise,
With the striking features of some meet.
Tawdry desolation, may only,
Set astray an artisan of lonely.
Tense spindle of four or five few,
Twisted indiscretely conjunctionally till they enter you,
terrace
Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 6:30 PM
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a green multitude of limb. ballast-taut structures of evident. picturesque people tend, around, and then again. rearranged possessive systemic trust in needles, pinch professionals of those akin. the swarming fever of a harlequin full of attention span.
a full form tropical delay of all my whims, brought about somehow, someway. what isn't this is this and thinning, to say... dimensional recast of a forbeared stay.
it made light with words and circled thin. arrested polish of those who dine, made clockwise for all ive got to say, though pining spinning these warn of May.
taken with salt... soup,
taken with soup... relaxed
brittle piece of work
Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 5:05 PM
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a red violet
glow 'doth\ braun
civil, patience...
burning turning stern,
a license to jot,
in ink violence - too fond
of ornament, of nature, of system, of pleasure
where the earth will turn
flattery battery battery
Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 3:40 PM
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lithium, some nirvana. held, swallowed. expelled. talon, large... the one that shoves the real. i thought a while ago that there was a way into the next life, but tomorrow never dies. lastnight, for real though, i thought twice that a character prepared of orature would be cool if suffice, Tomorrow Night. for the night i will leave an anvil untattered, though hip hop orchestrated may make troublesome lore, where incumbrant echoing one hundred i'll attend the maze until the very last turn. now stop and turn a hundred. this aint nirvana, this is an egalitarian discotech of promotion negotiating with peaceful subjects aimed at warm heaters. madness, genius, unreal, and phallus, deducting proclivities to sunshine in an ordinary fashion, though i can hear the tarnished remarks of proctoring and gamble with the walks withini, theres never really an ending till all the sleeves are offering. so for now at the age of April, i'll wonder why it snowed today and remember that theres more snow cauterring "in utero".
tifa lockhart
Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 3:15 PM
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a beautiful woman is a lot like a daffodil i said,
prove it. but flower's can't talk
i walked in the sand.
stood and offered my nose to her hand.
i tear apart a three of hearts
with no one to pick up the dirt.
its funny cuz sometimes what doest really work.
format:
welcome,
you learn conforming?
boring sentence structure detouring,
near of from, far or going.
and then a reciprocal gem of what is storing.
everything has a shell, called it!
then i ben over and fetched the wallet.
this should never leave my pocket
and in there, that there sprocket...
'the one that whimsy did' chained to a lockett
her picture perfect perfunct predetermined nature harkened
a litre in the same vain.
but it never really functioned until several finaciers arranging warped echoes
alotted themselves in walking,
so far gone, like the porridge, watch i proctor
and any official statement made by me can unsort this calcium deficient closet.
watching, to: spying. too much wall within the place.
say what is gone is now encased and shows vace
tu ne say quoi
a patrol of indecency arriving in tangents, to memory banks tthrough half handstands... 'grandslams, tame fam ran high hope tanned plans sans france bandstand land spans. and what comes off in one pluck is enough to offer eleven more words but they seem to have fell off the truck
duck duck goosed by givance and gators
pray tell negligee erased to find humour
and now i craft like one undone, too modest for malice in narrative mindsets to add fluence.
cantankerous plots of land i summon thee, question this dell and stream.
"don't pester us, pester flatter, this only flatters me."
cuz he got to talk
running through a jazz lucidity crises, mistaking real gold for fool's gold. i think...
pieceless puzzles lying on their stomaches chow down. (it was from off the cylinder)
i totally correct my vision.
"the sun rose" from lord of the rings, now that's time froze.
bashful beauty
too.
this lily has been so out of seems. i could
i tear apart a three of hearts
Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 2:55 PM
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             someone sent her. i know it now. though these cards split apart. inside theres some sort of notoriety. in this decadent sobriety she says hi to me. where and when... can they go wrong? a right of thought. shes played a lot of starts. raging inbetween wagons, i would say. but then theres something wrong... is it what makes this scene? i, disparagingly lay down some matter: sadness, laughter, wrong, and tatterred. a blissful spell of 'all she does is yell' peltting me with hello, though theres a brow, braced and watched. like a professional about to tell someone off indignant of the melting tingling feeling forcing gleeful fleeting. a mix of dust. trust, ownership and yelling. don't go.
an old broom
Posted  by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 2:45 PM
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             whatever comes this way. swept off my sidelings when i found a noticable tract. probable cause in repetoire though confines so elementary
behind the wayside and the wallet, a, whatever -you - call 'it, there's a fix that needs a prix.
free from the antlers and buoyance from the found, i rush in with wooden artifice to find a kick
and around to the cranberries that so sound become handy, one grandslam armoir close like a laundry
and i always can't see it, but i'm beaming to some stowage, improper, and cogged, cognated with revery and awe.
it has been my mission just sifting, though roundabout and through wishing, with amalgammed tenancy does wrought. so temperance and allegiance, pageantry so decent, i attend willingly the problem and start with the cause in timing.
The willow stands tall outside. On it's branches are many orating plush-strained incubi that designate the orifice.
and the porridge is now warm.
warning warring weeping to stop sleeping and slept. vitamins on the table, and perfect neglect.
interior of a nomme de plume
Posted  by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 2:30 PM
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             bested, besieged. in dear ascent of leagues. trusted and animated through tunnel vision, one can perceive a conception of emotional tumult; where ridden of topic and flavour. indescent really weathering thoughts on a paper. but, with haste, the writers turn trap'd in a large ornamental gap-mishap. and render vain through a window eager to shelter.
blending, berated, in clear ominous straint, dire collection of silver strings... draw sentiment into collection. arranging 'things' like hand on rapier, and not unlike one too for favour, but altogether. relinquished it is but a tumult of emotion - ranging from despair to fresh care - given, not - where, wherefore trots' liquid dismissing of permissive givances.
like fiancee to writable, and all in one unique type logarithymic, no ventricle could hold the pencil shavings that were on candle. yet, and well crafted yet, as yets to be yet. let leaders follow folio and prefer for what's set.
an enterprise of commiserate duty in the hands of an official reality model. some betook and aghast waste away at the nomenclature as forms to clay, shaking dorms like whoknows. let it snow, let it snow.
bonhomme de neige, the recipient of this echo.
touchy subject
Posted  by barrett on April 12, 2014 at 1:20 PM
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"do that awful jazz music"
"with what?" he said looking from left to right.
"yknow that awful, jazz, music."
be bob bop batta ba
the conclusion:
jazz music can not singularily be awful, so that this guy is incredible.
oh, uh
Posted  by barrett on April 9, 2014 at 8:10 PM
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             only conformity breeds chaos, enough of borderline leaderships they cry. and we obey either way with someone and sketch the line... "lets". and then like a divet in a field of grass rain pours in and it takes days to get the worms anywhere else. well, "well", either way conforming doesn't have to be a battle, but a series of exactitudes formed in process to an aclimated state of peripheral balance. there is no way not to conform is there. if we all live eachother's lives accordingly, its just seen with a different divet...it seems examples would be elliptical style menacing renditions of the refinition of durability, seeking strong in ultraviolet, though, historically speaking we are all one part alien.and one part definition. seen oblong as an example it would seem that we choose propective candidates in advancement through spreadless paste tag 'lines' and coeffect ourselves out of sync, as perspective does. thats a good ending, as perspective does.
in uh.
Posted  by barrett on April 3, 2014 at 9:00 PM
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a fluency in english deludes the best of its commontaters. we shall become one with the striving one does to become none other than non. Anon, and abest to the corporeal indicative comingling of the undone and the undone. it has both rapport but does not asign another., or an other. sadly striving can only overcome the common efficacy of sound on a ?mantle?, but undoes just as well as the strive that places forth. sadly, striving. but to none other than a language goes a proficiency, home, to walk amongst the others of a same specious, but disparate, disparaging recollection of purified nonsense; in the same way that hands reach out and legs abound.
on a sailboat, several financiers located an agreement slip of paper and read it aloud, they agreed to sign it and then the clouds rolled over. they quickly tried to laminate it, but with such lamentation dropped it in the water.
discount items
Posted  by barrett on April 1, 2014 at 7:50 PM
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a woman, of stout physical class, was seen by her neighborhood, walking a small English poodle, of harsh detrimental physique. The poodle would call it her own and jowl at the several to many passerbys that would syrup through the gangly media of initiation and venting. it was a saturday afternoon that the dog had fell down after sitting; taken by the vet, she did a lot more sitting. otherwise it was a labouriate indignation of plausible outrage and defenseless opposition to the stout class of a specimen, likewise to the tambourine of this annal.
it so happened that her courter several years later was English and liked poodles. On the occasion of talking about anew pet, it was certain that the dog was coming back from the dead. The woman - Lily- screemed with systemic delight and not a word later the dog came through the back door. and sat. Lily and Tumnas took a turn patting her head, when occurred a high whistle that could seemingly only made out by Lily. Needless to say it was a faint echo of the dog, of which one, even i am concerned.
at the edge of hedges outside through the window was always a red cardinal. blessed be, the culprit of the whistle.
"theres no use in caging a bird" said tumna eventually.
"then theres no use calligraphying a poodle."
tumnas sat on the stairs and managed to hear a sound, it all ended with the word "remember"
untitled1
Posted  by barrett on March 31, 2014 at 4:05 PM
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"it was becoming lucrative!"
"how so?"
"knowing how to embroider specialized door mats, has never been more welcome!"
"So why did you drop out?"
"It wasn't my passion."
"and what was?" "finding lucrative businesses."
on a sailboat in the middle of the lake, a man named, guaranteed, was fishing for dinner.
a storm kicked up and tipped his boat over, so he stayed under neith to breathe and holdfast.
he washed up on shore about an hour later, a lake away from his cottage.
instead of fish he would eat among all fish, he drank kool-aid and had toast.
he didn ot see the storm coming, but it didn t destroy his boat!
and then a seahorse named "what are you doing?" was born,
rogue
Posted  by barrett on March 27, 2014 at 2:20 PM
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in a way, we find ourselves. combatting evil in illustrioustrialist right. we honour each side like a contraband, and play bellows like a shellfish in the sand. standing tall, with what all? never seeing behind us, but sometimes reminding some that we can peirce our blindness. trallopping over kindness, besmirching wickets... like: 'that covers it'. and end up sitting in front of a fire the only way it knows how. too much addressing, little less than much more confection, letting it, forgetting it, paying patience to what is now the other side of the wicket. crickets laughing in the distance dialing for forge progressed sharps that greet hay. oh, i forgot, creation inside something else, ultraparallelopedisms and misprints on slips of paper, property printing proper misgivings for more to span. lost listings of good stories, though stories of books.
monostarch
Posted  by barrett on March 27, 2014 at 2:20 PM
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in a minute's romance: brilliance plays almost dance
Casual attidude of delays of so in a minute's romance.
so much sloping like slop deliverred to and through caravan's
"my heart slew" hefty jocund rice sushi inimtables on the counter
and this wasn't outside the bracket. welcome to thee last six years:
pelt, like a pelt
Posted  by barrett on March 27, 2014 at 2:15 PM
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Several days ago, a matter of the heart had him crying, playing cribbabe. He stouted fourteens here and there as a mild sigh of relief, but technically and wholeheartdly he was losing and not in the race ultra-parallelly in that respect. it seems fourteen beamed a peridontistallite for his visible facial ties and he acted whimsical.
"another" the other said.
"tomorrow or the next, shuffle up and deal." could you imagine if that other side of the comma was outside the quotation marks?
nonchalance equisition
Posted  by barrett on March 24, 2014 at 8:40 PM
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fellows that!
hi here to thy brandish
if i werent adrink brandy thou would thy spend
well if it isn't when and where that was catalouged by the defense mechanism of a wyvern in type and term.
who holds the brandy (double back)
well then aside i must sip
while i attack?
the moss grew softer and like, very distasteful relief was all but plotted, in a niche
i didn't even drink any
brandished?
spat: a regatta
held
accountable for
relieved
your hat
false beliefs?
terms and tact
goner?
gone to better
roll with the cadences
bake in the heat
so i guess you had already
my own defeat
titleist
Posted  by barrett on March 23, 2014 at 8:40 PM
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several arranged a finacial commissirate deduction from the aspects of several. now they stone roll, and roll away the indecisive together. but not a point to make a stop to eachother all over again in ones.
opt'apelia
Posted  by barrett on March 23, 2014 at 4:00 PM
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it's what became of her. ninety seven, sixty three. stingray wheel and a shop full of feet.
like an ocean liner with too many anchors, swept and a treat to the eyes, threatening to look at alone.
two doors, seventy six. rpms standards. and the severed financial structure numeration in a history.
it wore a black sheet in the front and upper to lower back in that way. small spoiled
when it whipped past the first time it was home, they keep it on the lot to sell oil or something
some people drink it, but its neither fast nor slow down to the end.
this thing that thing, all the eyes origin and ending with a swift ninety seven.
too much handling and a brief manual on defense.
several arranged financial agreements
several
Posted  by barrett on March 20, 2014 at 1:55 PM
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at the library, several arranged financiers impatienly bargained for the new book.
dustin?
Posted  by barrett on March 12, 2014 at 8:50 PM
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"the dwarf had a silver maracca."
the pond
Posted  by barrett on March 9, 2014 at 9:45 PM
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from the bottom of the pond, i say. is where these rocks come from. if we want more of these rocks, we will wait, until the pond is not crowded with water and seaweed.
the pond.
levelry
Posted  by barrett on March 4, 2014 at 5:05 PM
comments (1)
a black decent string, with silver-coated pearls
hung dangling off the box, and promoted guile.
it was hung there, heavenly like it belonged to the world.
and just because it also promoted style.
Ginger-ale and some weakened blossoms fix
and usually when trampled upon connote
a foot of sunken color like lamped wicks
though not in any way one would know.
The bracelt silver and yellow, married: gold and in circle
With one  wealthier pigment every five
Touching, the rupture of the inkblot: purple
It's hard at all to see it survive.
all to say what may come of jewelery
and all the revelry does subsist
though broken forms, through certain reveries
never to one woman enlist.
notation
Posted  by barrett on March 3, 2014 at 8:30 PM
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a hidden door way that led down a long dark hall. easily traversed compiling a set of stairs at the end, a green, oval knocker illuminated.by a single candle at the foot of the door. i took up the candle, and knocked on the door. a bolt sounded, and then all was black. the scent of smoke was wispy and gone in seconds. pringles, classic et cetera
in a sense
Posted  by barrett on March 2, 2014 at 10:30 PM
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seven soldiers surrounding... whats more, whats more.
all in the noise hearts pounding... whats more, whats more
seven they started, seven they ended, and here is what is more
on top of propounding, leash proper behaviour and love for war.
type cast away
Posted  by barrett on March 2, 2014 at 8:55 PM
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it is up to he who knows to know who shall know thy..
thee known as, shall know as known
and all a see shall fruit like magical kings
heels click
Posted  by barrett on March 2, 2014 at 7:35 PM
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a definite amount of certain, curtains perks'n, fork hands for purpose, to propose rose flowers like same-initial form posed endings. magestic feeling astray connotes an invisible metal, that won over to this side to trim and lie. by now of i swerving out of character flawed sighs, an empire of rose flowers by fault. till the grow side by side, in abundance
his inferno
Posted  by barrett on March 2, 2014 at 7:25 PM
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In the directories of life, governed by the all-knowing but offensive to capitalization, a salamander can be found, or two. Salamander hunters have since been long-heard-off-of though they use to frequent our setting. A cabin in the eastern most of the continent, known secondarily for it's chief export: salamander-fish, strike it rich in the upcoming fall.
Jerry the cabin owner was stocked for the winter and when he had his first snowless day, looked bright on the crossroad in front of him. He made his way to the end of the fence and fished out his old slop bucket. A slop bucket which he kept from his grandfather who owned a farm just to the west. He brought the buckt in and filled it with water, took a sponge and some pinesol and cleaned the front porch, top to bottom. The scent was a signal to those that knew him that he would soon be into town, not too mention the scent he gained.
In town he had a funny feeling, from the clouds, to the winds, to the roads, to the transmission on his radio, all saying the same thing: salamanders. He went to pick up some worms and a few fresh lures and hooks and hurried back home. To the stream he went and put together his rod. Just waiting.
ati derivative
Posted  by barrett on February 26, 2014 at 8:25 PM
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A small communirty of ex-miners, with about 2 or 3 minors to each home had a terrible flood. But with all the hard work, then and before, it only seemed terrible for a day, the day of the flood that is.
tuesday special
Posted  by barrett on February 25, 2014 at 3:50 PM
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imagine a telescope that could see into the future, as oppose to the past... what would the difference be? itd probably be less powerful. az truck driving superhighway goggles... rip harold ramis. thats snaff
walk by 2
Posted  by barrett on February 23, 2014 at 3:15 PM
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in an arc it was tassled by twinkling, and blew over the clearest patch of dust hamperred grass. straight up. and everyone had a seat at the ceremony. little statues for perseverence in "can you trust me" a movie made by many. it was the prescreening, but that only now comes in. "delabous? are you serious?" overcame the overworked orchestra and the screen was lit, yet black and white. the crowd...
quiche
Posted  by barrett on February 22, 2014 at 11:45  PM
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in a category gone missing, was a folder with the headline: catchetori chicken
by one's resolve chicken shall be made-type.
and that type is fine, fit for dinner and out of the way in a way
some business that, of chicken.
with a rainhat im starting to think chicken: mad.
as such a book will thrift certain events.
you are not what you read,
my mouth can't tell me.      
walk by
Posted  by barrett on February 20, 2014 at 10:25  AM
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a translucent sphere witha drawstring case. several, in the case. the case in which is mentioned bears a face, a bear, with long whiskers, with a tribute to stars and space, in whitie lace. wherever the place, it is known to face others' paces with all similar trace.
a circle in the grass, in the sand. where no man walks away. it is not easy to pass, to be planted is how one gets away.
clad in plaid
Posted  by barrett on February 19, 2014 at 11:10  AM
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Plaidly hopped in the cart.
"Welcome, to the land of the future" a tinny voice rang "if you'll look to your right you'll see a real-life dinosaur skeleton."
Plaidly hopped out of the cart. to be with the dinosaur skeleton. Mr. Shogun ordered the ride to be stopped and went to get Plaidly. "What is the matter with you Plaidly?"
"I don't want dinosaurs in my future."
"Well then we best make our getaway onwards through this kiddy ride."
"sure thing."
They both went to sit in the cart again. When Plaidly looked back he noticed the skeleton was missing. "if you look to the left you'll see early man by a fire." the tinny voice continued.
it was a long day after the ride. Plaidly got back home safely with a note of fatigue. he heard footsteps. Someone was at the door. When he opened it his face pulled in horror thought he couldn't make a sound, there was the skeleton head of the dinosaur he had seen at the exhibition... with a package. he kicked the skeleton to pieces and received the package. he tore it open and took a look at the tiny fossil, with a note that said "use this to break the teeth and jaws, back of the skull and anything you don't like."
Plaidly's house now had a rather large gathering of dinosaur ruins in front of it. And that's how Plaidly played it out plain and simple.
the regular roose
Posted  by barrett on February 17, 2014 at 12:55  AM
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up to the ceiling with feeling, ie. the letter brought on a greivous upheaval. who could have delivered such a thing to let one corner bend after dear, and dear me, was too endearing to let it drop in the box.
i haven't known, i haven't gone. the place is new, yet the lights are on.
predictions of a certain night time upheaval, where everything wants to be read except that torn message in the envelope that said:
dear reginald,
its time to put your books on the shelf, and meet me for a goodbye shelfish dinner, or something. im leaving saturday for good. in the meantime...
and at this one point  i want my name to be reginald
«
discontent
Posted  by barrett on February 16, 2014 at 2:35 PM
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the workshop was clean as a whistle. a tinsmith could see his reflection. though he added pictures of engineered plots, this was the only one to service him. he kept a fine pocket, with no chain or ballast. his articles of clothing were fine in their sense. above the last belt of tools on his mantle a sheet of one by three tools would go- adding in a never.
he was to build the iris of a robot, at least a circular circuitboard with occulence. either capacity.
as he worked the retraction in... in discontent he realized he was only eyeing the measurements. tho
a walk through the melted snowman field
Posted  by barrett on February 16, 2014 at 2:05 PM
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"its really not my field, but is it not unnaturally warm in the sun today."
"why the snowmen have bulbous shadows by ones upon our time."
"a snow-man-angelleses!"
maybe the clouds were in dissarray.
"Let's hope that snowmen don't get upset."
"I couldn't care at all for that joke."
"Well i see."
they walked in the shadow's turn of phrase from the muddy snow hills, crushin' ice and snow. not knowing where the arms were pointed but a hall full of melting and fell apart snowman sure is still fill. The sun seemed faster as they walked out further. so many of them,
"this has to be the coolest thing ive ever done"
"watch out for the melting faces"
still on stalk, they could hear talking. was it kids? all they could think. why it was impossible not to just either be scared or amazed. the same face, faces facing. about two months worth of snowmen. it was like one of the wonder's of theworld that may have led on to something strange in the same matter somewhere else.
you don't forget something like this, yet they melt
ego mania
Posted  by barrett on February 16, 2014 at 1:40 PM
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jepordized cats by 3 ran down the midnight windy road, half slanted. A crew at the construction had already started shipping in parts. cats in three, in these parts both ran and ran for nothing, for nothing would be cat-like in fact.
where did the cats go?.. on all fours as they should. they forrayed at the fortress in the foyer of another formidable straight. and then half slanted. now two streets down. they could still here the truck.
the cats made it to the edge of the field three streets down and looked around. tacktful amazing cats like seen nearcurtains curtailed the night and made it under a cabin.
the cats live there now, on three strands of purpose.
a notice of reflection
Posted  by barrett on February 15, 2014 at 3:15 PM
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every shadow reaches its limit independent of the troughs it spans and the displacement increases with a maximum amount of darkness, im thinking desert sands.
as these higher degrees, the sun creates lower, as we travel and stay still, just how stay still becomes none whatsoever.
their then must be an amount of darkness independent of the absence of reflection in directory, plus natural shadow governed amount, that places what id call foil or a shadow on the ground, initially it may be a change in temperature, though how does it go from a natural then down.
This could be how the temperature changes, a notice of reflection (from other surfaces)
this reminds me of clouds that must go through this totally reflectively.
the olympics are on
Posted  by barrett on February 15, 2014 at 2:10 PM
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naivety can be so reassuring, yet bliss can render ignorance in itis defense.
if a blimp went by that looked like a cloud would it render in sincere delivery?
the pilot, plots, the wind doesn't shrink, yet the whole show is only a makeup.
of what the astute really think.
trumpet
Posted  by barrett on February 12, 2014 at 4:10 PM
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at convenience at last alack alas again. gainful threading...softly treading; endearment!, through around an iconoclastic circa forecast inspiration.
grateful rodsman sporting width with a colleauge of magnetic softly treading, trouble is, no one will know the connection they spread
on a planet several gloves were washed in a basin and the hands went cold. for several days.
intelligently resembling hand gloves, fake hand gloves were made. no connection to the eye or face, though the hands were spread out gently. and partisan to flock alack tacking auto-bastions was mercury.
favourites hammered and withered succint oceanic mysticisms that brought back the primer, trouble is, though no one for several days made no connection mercury.
gowns
Posted  by barrett on February 6, 2014 at 5:25 AM
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sora, soars a swoiree for her ad'or'a. wherein Wilting arose such suspicion, with'in a city grown by. on the eve of an aurora, therein quick stitching force her meridian to a timid aura, or an orphan scanning for spies with no warrant, Though fleeting everyday. it goes without saying one will, will, win over what is chaste, won't we into maybe strong and safe allowed to be prayers. And as one swimming in and out the door'of her past shores, her flora always sitting bipartisan though taken in a wake of what is more, while all her insides are our pouring.
they're in
Posted  by barrett on February 5, 2014 at 9:35 PM
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it just so happens; without knowledge. that is enough for some; yet independent. stressed as thumbs.
typeface orate
a glee club for all the maidens of the spade.
cat's eye, one
as precipitate to colleague, mentionable through this and that, the marble's chief export is force.
no flogging of the gnat.
and where can you buy a tile with a letter on it?
et cetera
lemonade
Posted  by barrett on February 5, 2014 at 3:10 PM
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oh look at that." she said with a common stumble,
he was all ready to reach for something. and down they went.
she awoke  in front of the business, and ordered once, but twice
wherein he said "i will not drink lemonade!"
and took a stand.
Chances May
Posted  by barrett on February 5, 2014 at 3:05 PM
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tidings, behold ye grand dealings. these things of common place tidings, be, holding ye grand dealings.
and then some artifact a few away, flew away in the mishap, like mishapen clay
and then around again, i found it, i found it
foundings of forwards for words.
where wars' bottles' stay
lay down along the ebb.
and follow out, too old
and noisily buoy,
until, un-tilled
until whatever
chances may.
downward spiral
Posted  by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 6:15 AM
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down the man made hall.
wherever it is, its dark
se much for a good window.
meanwhile it's plateglass
The midnighter - 3 Aurora
Posted  by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 6:00 AM
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I wonder what happens when you happen to be blessed, thank you… all concurrent I think we need a rest in an ambiguous dance I held these hands like chapters of a book, in an unmentionable glance I took in the power of its post postulate and deemed it its corruption… through the snowbanks such in the life of things you know and crushin’ snow and ice while the nothing in response is rooted to the foot of the glacier, moving at made up thaw speeds below the radio wave transmissions’ level all to say something up up and below sea level.i
some gathering
Posted by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 4:10 AM
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awaiting a loop in rest and relax
i say, the motion of the cars is backed
only by a few mile delay.
'someone said it brings in the cold air
on it's tracks
with no cares yet, the stack stays full of it
until it sotps, and that happense all day.
...
Posted  by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 4:00 AM
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I'm beginning to take notice of the windchill
solly
Posted  by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 3:05 AM
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Isolate liquid dyslexic arresting less of this, when wilt today’s catches and matches into the circle of a half force of the opposite, wherein the fastest regulates the passive into fire that whips the air like lisps.
And the ailing cannot commit to the risks the migratory mitigation memories memorize and test the air for following into the wrong places with this: fire, licking the atmosphere now for more than the awakened like flares’ to.
All done spirits spiral in likewise, find terminals and enter into the extraneous versions of sleep, encasing, wait, facing the irregularities in warmth that take down several forces of this fire, and into they go.
The air now frigid, the sniffs sapped, the gifted, mapped, sever each other in some sort of collapse, until matches fall into the hands.
Alive and dash-full digits undoing cold with world left forever take apart severances turn to warmth, awake then spread fire like-with their faces, encased waiting bows and kindling.
Lucid laughter and meals of forbearance break into now and outside wait the polarizing natural wake. On the eve of a Sunday.
thankyou
Posted  by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 2:50 AM
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id like to give you all a thank youvii
im sorry i missed the banquet
but its true i love this language
this lost in the moment, treasure and the anguish
sinking feeling deep into meaning
something else sheeps and weening
on a bend a lament to laminate
the character you've twisted fate for
negates the sentiment and scapes for
the moment that they meet
with the treasure chest, of expectation estimates
rendering drops
dendria 2
Posted  by barrett on January 25, 2014 at 5:50 PM
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built again ruins, falling away slowly, receive rennovations that transform and coo the ta'. when that seeping inner shadow plane, feels normal go it pa'. forever endearing structures of a nuisance cascading in a roman clockwork at best, time will mystify and transform that slew the star.
bar by bar up or down, and around in no complexion, waiting for connection. signals.
basic ideas, racy slices of inert artifacts. building
nothing cene or cemented.
though fashioned and effervescent,
this is easier to describe.
trouble
Posted  by barrett on January 25, 2014 at 5:45 PM
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sensitivity is a lot like two things combined.
pencil network connectivity is a lot like a wine.
stencilled pent up directed as and at activity
is a lot like a spine.
tho the plane is in doubt in the same way.
for the matter, we have light, and light we see is or an expression of our decay.
the building blocks of tetris, like cycloptic arraignment
The Shadow Plane
Posted  by barrett on January 25, 2014 at 5:40 PM
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so much space, an avenue... do say its cold.
on one avenue, of leisure enfibrocated effort, a legion borth it's que.
'what if not oft to of certain take triangles like normal fading issah?
then that is the shadow's space, irregardless of lot and command, the shadow relies on its inability to function independently.
'would oft fire or light command it hitherto?
the light speaketh cold and alone can be seen as all encompassing, for infront.
'not oft the light shine behind us, tho we cannot see the light?
aye.
'what for matter instill light as enlightment and fire in one's being
the very same that shine in place.
'oh for
tbc
dendria
Posted by barrett on January 23, 2014 at 2:55 PM
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scraggly branches of umbrella wannabe snapdragons, habadash the ringer for a ben franklin mishap. in those gaps and brink by brink we jump as locusts to become ordered like one such blip, in entries.          
«
Those that thaw tea
Posted  by barrett on January 13, 2014 at 6:40 PM
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for some reason i had the idea that Christopher Columbus smelt the word "spice"
revision:
he may have smelt spices
Gargoyle (part three)
Posted  by barrett on January 13, 2014 at 6:35 PM
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Gracious gill, go graciously, guilty
Stain. Just Great, guessing
Garrison gargles rain today.
Tertiary Secant (it was a strange time in part two)
Posted  by barrett on January 13, 2014 at 6:30 PM
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Test the foil. And Remain Central
Fly the pestal, past the point of
Tesla Royal Crawl like fanblades
'till you can't see the soil.
Loyal Type treason feesibly Reaping Flats; so tangentiently mapped, I don't even feel.
Reek of havac, ad hoc, vox, populi
Moire populi proximately stops.
Etymology frost, latin fabric
Stock, short flaws paucity
prone antidisestablishmentarianism
plus talk. Rotterdam sophist plane
shocked. Cost Connote adverb.
Deneoument.
A Poe Requiem (part one)
Posted  by barrett on January 13, 2014 at 6:25 PM
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I would like to find a case of stone, being of course, ordered and inbelievably narrated as thus printed in proper format and altogether coagulated - as one might find - situated indelibly: so liberated as to communicate with a page. As oppose to ideally mentioning a black wood article in grave extinct poetic impulsivity, such as that which creates itself then follows suit, thereby retracting a facade indelibly as a moment in time reflects a moment in time, As to be unaware of distinction possibly as a denotation, connoting taste in red books and/or that which covers them ahead though not about a apage or binding dimension of something so bitter it would crease everytime you touched it forever.
good evening.
Posted  by barrett on January 13, 2014 at 6:20 PM
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just started reading The Fellowship of the Rings, post-hobbit. the page 39 i think is the most exciting fiction i think i've read, then i went for a walk... 'thinking... "the book is about how far writers have to go."
anyway the above is some odds from my stay at a village from late Feb. to late July last year.
'battling the word bronchitis like a doctor needs the sponser, sick of sedatives a single edge making medicine a contraceptive, contrary to reason and response seeks a mild heiroglyph. tonal frequency tangential fireworks plus start dragons, read em. slash maintenance,
reperations in a box.
eyedea rest in peace.
good morning again
Posted  by barrett on January 12, 2014 at 4:00 PM
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start dragons, snapping like crabgrass. arranged like a special arrowhead. experimenting with wave tradition, in the middle of an angler's storm. when will they be caught; its cover, probably not.
to decieve and arrange the city!
the knights of the high order, under oath to cache the grass, catch the intruders, and bring trouble to malice's last.
"foam fingers"
if it wasn't for the excitement something of the highest order may be carried out... on a large flat wagon backing, with the backing of the construct's guilt.
but wait, there is smores!
victor, the candle maker arises in the first wind tunnel on there way back. "I care... us...we do not need too much flame. eaten.
and out come the flame eaters, to be continued
eight style
Posted  by barrett on January 12, 2014 at 1:30 AM
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Pluto Platonic cursed the word
It seems now, more ironic
Then ever it was where heard
Loose-spikes laconic that platitude: song is.
In a world of definition the body is least seen. Intangible greets the far-strays of what is not capable of definition. Long-breathed listing breeches the apprehension likewise. In a world of definition the body is perceived.
"and so"
-M. Averill
Journal Entries in Blood Part three
Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 11:50 PM
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I don't know what is going on! I got a call from a surveryer the other day and he asked me where I lived. could it be lupus?
back in the groove.
Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 11:30 PM
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i sat there. their were too many distractions. there was a rubic's cube on the table. "wait till it knows you he said."  it can't be much more difficult then a spread sheet, or that's where i had to be. the colorless sticker had a logo in the middle. who in their right mind i thought. i drank some earl grey tea i had beside me, decided to give it a shot, casually comforted my torso, but let my feet detail the ornament. i pictured it perfect. corners first. how curious? i've seen it done, were those hands mine? im a mole. inside the block language, i let go of the absurd cube... and fell into revery, does this explain the cube? alrite alrite, "wait till the cube knows you'
in my bed with the thing waiting over there i found a need to make note of it. somewhere.  
for what? 'wait till it knows you'.
isolating the colors
opening jars
a jaguar ran past the window and i thought a little differently, there has to be a solution potent enough for the cube to be at one with itself, though finishing it... a time sensitive purchase. to frame? expand and demote maybe, what could all of this be, the jaguar.
don't forget
Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 10:45 PM
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i can't forget octopusses.
thats because youre namesake is a suction cup.
no heed to levity
no head for s'up
sushi around the edges,
paint on the frame.
i can't forget about octopusses
how many times i can refrain
notice
Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 9:20 PM
comments (1)
around where i live they changed the street lights from purple to white.
so far i've figured,
its not as luxurious a settings while walking, its quite distressing, and its brighter. in that order plus now, give or take a few levels of NaCl
warning
Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 8:35 PM
comments (1)
the ocean is filled with octopuses. thats good i think for the time being. but squids might be inked octopuses too. either way, or, either sea creature, dendrites may look like people.
don't think too much about octopuses.
and
oil is purple i think, it doesn't turn grey does it, and black is basically lack of light, and/or not enough energy to produce the photoelectric effect, so maybe we're octopus cells, or psychologists didn't understand squids.
no evidence required.
don't use ink, or you might think its oil.
warrings.
Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 8:10 PM
comments (0)
twitter representatives, ie, share holders should all say pie enought until the art of time swallows them the thing the pin as sty, in the eve of warring with a site, i cited mine as an x for such suspicion links as turuses, natural causes, inked soon like the former when everyone has popcorn but my. started thinking about when corn is grown and stuff, yup. anyways tune in too to channel two whatever news it has is certainly blue. audience scribes.
curtains
Posted  by barrett on November 27, 2013 at 8:50 PM
comments (0)
the incredibly dressed man walked into the shop. there was a lot of, slightly lesser-quality-dressed men in there, of which he took a casual glance. He then turned to the cashier walking by and asked the following question: "how much for your lesser-quality scarves on display?", to which the cashier replied "your money is no good here. take a scarf." The finely clad gentleman replied, "i would like help selecting one.", to which the cashier replied. "how about the red one?", to which the finally clad gentleman replied. "yes. that is the one for me."
the first snow
Posted  by barrett on November 23, 2013 at 11:30  PM
comments (0)
             With new ultraviolet lamps the wind certainly had straight up squalls in spells
and in and out evernow and in an hour by snow was seen gliding in close snowflake-like circles
on the eve of war
Posted  by barrett on November 20, 2013 at 8:30 PM
comments (0)
"Fellow scarecrows and blacken, tonight comes the adjoining of the fence. we do not know what will come of this, but make sure that you take this to heart... we have all served, done our part, needless to say that it is fit for each and everyone of us to remain strong. the straw candy is at the back.
travaille
Posted  by barrett on November 20, 2013 at 2:30 PM
comments (0)
a recipe of pure spice sat at the oven then now the table. strongly stirring was abated and the cook abscond. a lucid bond of memories on this november night, where no one could respond, eating salt and celery, onion powder and garlic, oregano and cilantro, with passed around tomato paste cans for membership. All of a sudden the cook comes back and opens the can of tomato paste. "mix!" some decided to drink, some decided to sip. the bowls were almost overflowing with the stuff. The drinks were too helpful. the spoons too overcooked. The woman in the dress faints after sayiing "oh the horror". her husband rushes to find some smelling salts but can't take it.
snake faucet
Posted  by barrett on November 19, 2013 at 9:10 PM
comments (0)
If a book did a good build a house metaphor it would probably be about kids growing up.
A wot in riot, try relax tyrant.
Viper-shadow dance till both are cuspits.
An infection tolerating nothing dance as lust is,
When snake comes from the pit and languid is the rushes.
fade away type wot,i feel i could be a character in a house, but,
There is no general engineering of my own making to advance more.
Salary! take yourself higher... all the while the celery droar is empty.
I could probably write about a house with snakes and celery... I just don't know how to start.
'Possibly I need to exit more, or find a snake in the celery droar.
Maybe I need to open up a bit more, or see a droar shook like a snake.
What possibly makes a good story is the lack of snakes.
It's possible that everyone has already read a similar story.
The passage of stories are much like snakes through a house,
Top to bottom, sometimes sending more and more, from the snake-faucet.
Mainly there are gargoyles on the house, which the snakes protect.
But it could even be one short story that slid away.
clearly
Lull (the midnighter)
Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 7:35 PM
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seeing away from a shadow in the eyes
for chose thy habbit to dwell upon i've assured
miser to those who hold me up in time
yesterday is gone and its already now
down grounded found out, skittish, down grounded found out skittish
whereas the weakness depletes, rigging what seats, the colder you are the less your bound to know in memory leeks what seats, toss and turn in sheets.
alls well
Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 6:20 PM
comments (0)
Fire like movement stayed still for spark. A hollow log. fleeing shadows stayed still for a moment. An unearthly smog. This is the place of control, no one has to wait, but wait for me now, 'for now we all stay. Croutons on the circle if it be menace, blades of grass if it be 'let us' and your drink if you think you're ready.
I'll bet your bottom dollar you thought I'd be the type with a guitar, I brought one once long ago, though it didn't help me author. This guitar has been in my keeping, for some time. I played licks, riffs, and chords that I thought were only mine. Tonight I bring you darkness and light, because that's what time it is, as we look into the fire.
This penchant for music I had ran deep. variables of sound that I would often fall asleep too, Back in the day I also studied the flute, but it took my breath away.
Anyway the song I once heard that will focus this greeting, is about the flow of instrument conception, and what the music is really getting to. I say, stay away from the instrument and play vulnerable to it's conception, the first one made already splays all of us in one direction. Fading and fading out like a cypress, once it detaches, puts up spokes or spicates for capture. and no one knows after, Let this time be a lesson to you, because its always been a sayiing, with me and the others, that its not the person, but the shadow that is what is practised
notice
Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 9:20 PM
comments (1)
around where i live they changed the street lights from purple to white.
so far i've figured,
its not as luxurious a settings while walking, its quite distressing, and its brighter. in that order plus now, give or take a few levels of NaCl
warning
Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 8:35 PM
comments (1)
the ocean is filled with octopuses. thats good i think for the time being. but squids might be inked octopuses too. either way, or, either sea creature, dendrites may look like people.
don't think too much about octopuses.
and
oil is purple i think, it doesn't turn grey does it, and black is basically lack of light, and/or not enough energy to produce the photoelectric effect, so maybe we're octopus cells, or psychologists didn't understand squids.
no evidence required.
don't use ink, or you might think its oil.
warrings.
Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 8:10 PM
comments (0)
twitter representatives, ie, share holders should all say pie enought until the art of time swallows them the thing the pin as sty, in the eve of warring with a site, i cited mine as an x for such suspicion links as turuses, natural causes, inked soon like the former when everyone has popcorn but my. started thinking about when corn is grown and stuff, yup. anyways tune in too to channel two whatever news it has is certainly blue. audience scribes.
curtains
Posted  by barrett on November 27, 2013 at 8:50 PM
comments (0)
the incredibly dressed man walked into the shop. there was a lot of, slightly lesser-quality-dressed men in there, of which he took a casual glance. He then turned to the cashier walking by and asked the following question: "how much for your lesser-quality scarves on display?", to which the cashier replied "your money is no good here. take a scarf." The finely clad gentleman replied, "i would like help selecting one.", to which the cashier replied. "how about the red one?", to which the finally clad gentleman replied. "yes. that is the one for me."
the first snow
Posted  by barrett on November 23, 2013 at 11:30  PM
comments (0)
             With new ultraviolet lamps the wind certainly had straight up squalls in spells
and in and out evernow and in an hour by snow was seen gliding in close snowflake-like circles
on the eve of war
Posted  by barrett on November 20, 2013 at 8:30 PM
comments (0)
"Fellow scarecrows and blacken, tonight comes the adjoining of the fence. we do not know what will come of this, but make sure that you take this to heart... we have all served, done our part, needless to say that it is fit for each and everyone of us to remain strong. the straw candy is at the back.
travaille
Posted  by barrett on November 20, 2013 at 2:30 PM
comments (0)
a recipe of pure spice sat at the oven then now the table. strongly stirring was abated and the cook abscond. a lucid bond of memories on this november night, where no one could respond, eating salt and celery, onion powder and garlic, oregano and cilantro, with passed around tomato paste cans for membership. All of a sudden the cook comes back and opens the can of tomato paste. "mix!" some decided to drink, some decided to sip. the bowls were almost overflowing with the stuff. The drinks were too helpful. the spoons too overcooked. The woman in the dress faints after sayiing "oh the horror". her husband rushes to find some smelling salts but can't take it.
snake faucet
Posted  by barrett on November 19, 2013 at 9:10 PM
comments (0)
If a book did a good build a house metaphor it would probably be about kids growing up.
A wot in riot, try relax tyrant.
Viper-shadow dance till both are cuspits.
An infection tolerating nothing dance as lust is,
When snake comes from the pit and languid is the rushes.
fade away type wot,i feel i could be a character in a house, but,
There is no general engineering of my own making to advance more.
Salary! take yourself higher... all the while the celery droar is empty.
I could probably write about a house with snakes and celery... I just don't know how to start.
'Possibly I need to exit more, or find a snake in the celery droar.
Maybe I need to open up a bit more, or see a droar shook like a snake.
What possibly makes a good story is the lack of snakes.
It's possible that everyone has already read a similar story.
The passage of stories are much like snakes through a house,
Top to bottom, sometimes sending more and more, from the snake-faucet.
Mainly there are gargoyles on the house, which the snakes protect.
But it could even be one short story that slid away.
clearly
Lull (the midnighter)
Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 7:35 PM
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seeing away from a shadow in the eyes
for chose thy habbit to dwell upon i've assured
miser to those who hold me up in time
yesterday is gone and its already now
down grounded found out, skittish, down grounded found out skittish
whereas the weakness depletes, rigging what seats, the colder you are the less your bound to know in memory leeks what seats, toss and turn in sheets.
alls well
Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 6:20 PM
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Fire like movement stayed still for spark. A hollow log. fleeing shadows stayed still for a moment. An unearthly smog. This is the place of control, no one has to wait, but wait for me now, 'for now we all stay. Croutons on the circle if it be menace, blades of grass if it be 'let us' and your drink if you think you're ready.
I'll bet your bottom dollar you thought I'd be the type with a guitar, I brought one once long ago, though it didn't help me author. This guitar has been in my keeping, for some time. I played licks, riffs, and chords that I thought were only mine. Tonight I bring you darkness and light, because that's what time it is, as we look into the fire.
This penchant for music I had ran deep. variables of sound that I would often fall asleep too, Back in the day I also studied the flute, but it took my breath away.
Anyway the song I once heard that will focus this greeting, is about the flow of instrument conception, and what the music is really getting to. I say, stay away from the instrument and play vulnerable to it's conception, the first one made already splays all of us in one direction. Fading and fading out like a cypress, once it detaches, puts up spokes or spicates for capture. and no one knows after, Let this time be a lesson to you, because its always been a sayiing, with me and the others, that its not the person, but the shadow that
indigenous allegory
Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 5:50 PM
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appaulled pollen pales in comparison to the pollen that rests on petals. how it got them a long may have been a string of things though that's not what I'm taunting. windy lights but shake a bit sometimes, though we may do the same if its a certain time. years come forth but never yield, though somehow we make them, is there an ace in our defence that goes for kingdom. her majesty settled her brow, and provocatively talked in an octave key, about how it was okay to overlook some bane, and what builds us up... to movement, the darkness rising, like tomorrow was an image in a camera with some daily extracts from the extravaganza.
scratch
Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 5:30 PM
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Quite like it, like it was never seen before. Amazing and conspicuous. A menace monolith, deadening the simplicity of the visit.
antinomy
Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 4:35 PM
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It was off without a pence. A penchant pence for pent up thrillings. the inn keeper didn't want me to mention but though I fathomed his wisdom. he needs the slips for the slip. and a sip for sip with him is a way to lose out, though I dare not mention my arrangement now, the house down the street it shall be slipping in here and I need not tell you more. I am to clean the whole house top to bottom, without looking in the closets, and yet its all I can think of as of now.
I knock on the door
"We are just leaving." "perfect. perfect for looking through closets."
"ah you kid me."
"well, surely I will look through your closets even though you ask not of me."
"that is not wise."
"this is irrefutable."
"we shall increase your wage if you give me your word you will not look through the closets.'
"I am not in this for the wage, for you see, I am a notorious closet searcher."
"I trust you are kidding this whole time."
"Why don't we both go take a look inside one of your closets?"
that's when the man's wife came to the door.
"let's go henry."
"yes, off you go, I can't be looking through closets with all this exchange."
"he's kidding I trust."
"no, no, I shall clean your house, and look through your closets."
"just let him look through the closets."
"this is not good"
To be continued somehow
at technology
Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 4:25 PM
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"look at this"
"its brilliant"
"What is it"
"I think they call it technology"
"it reminds me a flower."
"she's got to see this."
'what does it do?"
"well anything you want it to."
"how'd you get it?"
"I made it"
"out of what?"
"the old stuff"
"I have a bad feeling."
"don't worry, here have it"
\"why are you giving it to me?"
"so that you're responsible."
correction (midnighter bits)
Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 3:45 PM
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While drifting attached to slings and wings with this serious dart to one off side clings steering us, belted to the start... of anything or else it's missing, rifts and shelves, part and parts, clearly enough tipping, continuously lifting, a string bridge bubble stopped... so much like rain I and we almost faint as we make it below the ceiling, it's about since now I tell you in the clouds I always have a sinking feeling that's why I mention isn't there a place set for all this cradling, my word is obeying, my world so strung she almost couldn't use lungs
do you feel that jinx ice cold sculptures relocating extraneously (that's) what a jacket can do bring her home truth is i'm freezing and seeing through things quickly, you?
spot 2:50 one caged assured absurd movements make it in this place like I say like I said like I dream place encased stays but never erased debased down to zero for the moment though its always never the same, if it wasn't so much of a play placer i'd erase it, note to self: do later, no matter to charge no horse to hold up bars and in the epitome of everything i'd say it how-wronged... slipped away
like I say like I said
just mapping on the charge, it's far away somehow I know it's almost dawn, drawn to the refrain of the digits such a limit to the timid trepidation I feel, nothing reel, one's back, blissful in this soft kiss moment, I almost kneel, not allowed somehow listening to real as well seems pensive and in its peacemeal splendor I unreel a demeanor of heel pivot and off to the postulates that lost their limits
to make it, face, entropy replacement farther forth in the same direction so I can sleep.
and that
Posted  by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 6:50 PM
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everyday is a learning order for disorder. More snow on your cellar door than mordor could offer. might toggle time. where offerrings of snow are like the most pleasant the tallest will get and short with thine, tho in turn a true burner of it who calls it by his quill, an upheavle into reticence, he since may mistake his grill, tho gills be hard to come by, they offer expanse, but if a fish could smoke, could it really just be thought and dance, the first time touched offering quilt from the tucker, as some often say, though id stray and be a sucker, candles and matches, could one hinge another and call itself like a gladdist, setting stone? prone to tone, alone to won? the footprints already lead indoors. "what happens when the cellar door is closed?
why that's when the wind doesn't howl as much.
eight hours allay later delay.
"this"
scary kids
Posted  by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 6:40 PM
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The kid who pronounced monseiur correctly called me one, and now I think I need a doctor.
Nature habbit
Posted  by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 5:05 PM
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Isolated, mixed, abused, never allowed to be, I so late, dyed an egg and meant therefore to be aware.
Start
Posted  by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 5:00 PM
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Predessors'
ghost channel
Posted  by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 4:45 PM
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here we are learning, leaning and warring over over seas, aborting plans for starlit nights with starlit kites. 'its like enjoy the kite young one, cuz when it breaks you should be strung out, or we\ll make one, anyway landing on a nuance that could populate a reason for metaphor in a poet companion, at this time we'd be watching lights move, but at this point we stand one. and finally when thee stars really come out we see the same things just on the widest crystal apparency magnetically acheiving broadness through father straws that were antler'ing into the sawdust. of to build a network of yes and no, knowledge and whats fa'struck, timid coloring from an upgathering and lots of ghosts to come. but its a hassle at this time of year, unless your ready to make snowmen. and prone to be a blend again with fences fencing in the pendulum of a creation... seriously its either the moon or the fandom, so gloriate and sorry yet, earlier we knew we found one, but at this time it\s like they're family, oh Rion, and split apart.
Worst worth
Posted  by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 4:40 PM
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Tipping point of slang versus slang verse tipping point versus the universe.
What's worst? Birth or the end of learning? or the worst thing you can think of versus versus?
Terse movements of Earth dripping into worthwhile for the North, caverns caving in for the curse? Birth of a new proffession, lots of girth movinng sideways into the first. Though I dare to remember what's worst.
the niceness of good applejuice
Posted  by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 4:20 PM
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oh that's good, might get some more
thank you
Posted  by barrett on November 13, 2013 at 5:35 PM
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Why is the clock the slowest processor at times? is it a gimmick? it seems all ac/dc clocks are complicated machine though why the strangest and most reliant? is strange tolerable? is it necassary to make what is often the biggest proportion interesting, almost fully literally. When will that thing on the wall at work, and by your bedside hang upside down? when will it be written? is the latter even possible? circles i guess, merit the injustice of nature, and straight lines give us a picture of what is real.ie. a real long time ago we had no measure of what we call our updated time.
untitled
Posted  by barrett on November 13, 2013 at 12:25  AM
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In September of the same year, I had started taking some philosophy classes. It was a relief to hear a professor’s voice and be around the same type. This man who sat next to me always had something to say, and I always troubled him with my questions, rather than get the professor’s textbook response.
ease combine
Posted  by barrett on November 12, 2013 at 1:50 AM
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Fleeing decently receding Thee peace bequeath a Special lease undone to Thee uneasy, peacefully piecing treats and cleats to be the steam in your bereft unleashing.
Reasonably fleecing treason speeding, by beating leading, leading led on straws deleting creases in specious reasoning pleading speaking weakening bleak defeatings, deeking weaklings seeing creaking beaten fourteens, (like lying Shakespearian greetings)
Some lyrics
Posted  by barrett on November 12, 2013 at 12:15  AM
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Astral plane travellin main making it rain in courtships with the southern hemisphere
It pits the sane against the bane of existence why flames rap around my cylindrical dame
Fame or fortune, beyond repair, vague disorder that retracts the flaps to shape the borders
We amass at centre stage taking plague pills to stand straight with the grain, korn is played out loud roars are heard our heard roams the fields in search of cookies with the help of yellow birds, tomatoes silly i get sight of word no one else can cure the ham like i can, we all say it from now on its to be debated. soft ware. thoughts pair like ruffles. truffle trifle, despite an eyefull of eggnog thats delightful when nightly chilled, its a real type night like where nikes are pronounced without the ease psych running down the street like a chain gun through belts of bullets, just like we already hit it, but wait its limping, pump another 15 inbetween
I SHARPEN MINE WITH A PORCUPINE ANVIL
TWIST RIGHT THROUGH THE FOREST LIKE RAMBO
LOOKIN UP I CAN SEE THE CANOPY TANGO
RAN OUT OF LEAVES SO I DO THE SAME TILL I CANT STAND STILL
STILT SPAN THEN A DANCE OVER TO TAMPER WITH THE RANDOM
THERES NO CONNECTION LIKE
i shake a format its raining dormats been so dormant taking hearty napps just to anchor the important, need some time stamps
erase the golden doctrine in the synapse. no one s levy enough to bout the brevity in the such is life set i say all jittery jit jit ju jitsu
i been lending beats breaks and beaks to a philosophic dove who entreats us with thoughts on love.
enough enough through the rough away away ebb out on 4 rate one one zero tarot sparrow near so
i take the bureau out. bust it up, and rob deniro
take his timestamps i need em primed and printed,
so i run to business depot, for no other reason, to complete this friggin sequence.
of mistreated hedon readings succeeding to shoddy reason.
i caught up, lost down, can't stop now, or is that all that's left to do other than be reknowned
constantly haunting thee, shores of the city. just waiting for petty pitty. hello kitty
welcome to the gritty morning drippy! catnip cacti sour milk, fourty billion bagpipes compressed into one thats compressing as one i know, its rather wintry mutiny mints be pressing coinage
to outlaw the fifty, over ten, like the quilt cakes go on forever. what i couldn't compressed with some oculence, endeavor trocking benz, was it a miracle, i sub segway into the equation to duress the mother quill staying still,
now mathematics still rocking the beat, i play a live show chalkboard scratches and screech
that dove comes back almost always so mosy or treat, this as a lament, boring as heat, heathrow, or wheat
to find the concrete solid would be solid, promise to sheet, i'll make you like the stairs
take a staircase to stars see the features form feats yours are the detours reversed and forward
lets talk a way with the run of a theoretical cave. no one can distound the word, but i propound that it might be used today
and onward we steal way to the rise of figurative sway, say siya, ger tiger druid adroit in winning bays. like it was thought from the rise of one kinda stay all the razed sand takes time to make marigolds bend for disdain ... taking orders from rhyme rate and rhyme stages. a way awya away awya away
taking time to reach the heights of midday placement, thirty seconds till i select the taste of vapour i want to takein house the truncated space favour. i might be thought astray but i walk around the minor's gold with a samsonite briefcase,
ghostship sailing without a rudder or prime directive known for frequenting the bottom dwellers
cafe halfway to armeggedon. or was it magellans last nebula a regular really to one of them, just because within the perfect beginnings now the serpents bellow, trembling sirens to vibratto and spacemermaids retelling of the chirades we surfaced as we become part of the wayward tasteless face off complacents stasis. mongering for the love of targeting ongoing rowing like it was a safe november remember me december before i turn all cold and the harpoons sharpen, or is it that the whale hunt broadens. at worlds with atwood saturating avenues with lampwick, can't collide within perfect spellings or desert dwellings ill forever be a nomad if i can't depict my addressing
when the sun warms up to a more spacious leash, i'll find the eclipse at zero anywhere then considered east, feast upon the pragmatism of a less collected beast, i beleive we could direct the warmth if we weren't such a leach.
but from astronomical units a way! trompe de loeil anyway tropical fish could say that they were the spacemermaids if we created an atlantis out of the moons dazzling race. we are moonmen, straight from sol. we ebb out when we we're home and flow when we're alone, saddling the satellite, we're prone to find our way through the ozone
to beseech the moon for a nightcap we dazzle if we say.during the night timbre an unhearty right of ways. say slay midnight a rigormortis today simpler. i'll see you in the sky maybe you could even decay yourorbit and yourself as atlantis create. i'll wonder why i never swam to the moon reflection sooner cuz thats what the scene looks like today anyway and im guessing that thats where i'll find poseidon, namor, my living self, need i say more, i already patched an echo, thoughts on techno. if i wasn't on a ghost pirate ship i'd say hellno.
but i am, man and energy, combatting trams, just to reflect on techno. i blame technology and i don't want to let go of this 3 dimensional circular pancake special
regimented invented sentences go beyond reflection to the source caveat the cohort about this sort of rhythmic aggression. is it right to sport the thunder from the enlightning sounds which one dismisses your retention and rounds off the order for mention the voice that goes before the penchant for this... hedge cut by edward with handhands,
those who know, slowly form 3d spirals cascading rival circular articles.
perhaps charred at the centre, which they never winter or reach farther than
but come to terms with as the enter. o
ffending off hand remarks with off ended marks
it got them on the naughty list. i'll take the shelves over cars.
my self as the trough, clearly the mirror doesn't even delay like that
what about stars, ripped from the crux, of cuba or art, wherefore art though shard
of diamond, to rip the glass apart
and spread time farther into this apartment's heart
second hand practically dipping, the ringdom's king won't accept infringing
for we all talk of wisdom, but when we see it, fear impinges.
i guess thats why the fireplace distances the grinch, can fire really do that timid
i enter, watching fear dissolve, probably fallacy will glady rattle me till i
make it around our galaxy. tattle be: he sat upon a comfy seat, used his hands to run along with sheep
thats how the wolf leans posit r in the nearest neutron star so we all can see
now: clandestine, arresting and reversing first impressions, neglecting mention of the monolithic beginnings
the talk of wisdom, repetitious system driven listen kissing. serving spaceships-and- remaining distant im sans which one track former 5letter wiccan tonal rhythm beta cheiftain fact checking missionary warner brother in the rights of written painstaking freedoms given by the statutes of any listener with a written consent form from themselves in triplicate sitting lightly on the statue of liberty within limits, lest fence intrinsic power trippin. dippin into doves, loud and runny, the dog barks, not because its hungry. maybe tryna be funny. can't wait until its sunny.
maybe this one will be far enough away not to mention wrongs.
i take the tongs, ostrich egg and think hard
theirs got to be a way to baldwin these 2 and a half articles into a song
tongs, ostrich egg
tongs, ostrich egg, song
theres no limit think of plymouth talkin stephen hawkins theory finished
singularities please, points of no return... believe, we all can sneeze our way out of a feesibly incandescent beam decay, asscent from turbulent censorship. ..bent on bringing out the zest from the best of the less frequent orange tips and depth.
might as well turn a profit, rest and sip, erupting through the roster would have to be dollarage star sign tolerable milestone doctorate imposters
talking over lemonade like they lost the game.
but its funny how it happens some don't feel ashamed.
is it up to them or us to find the just in just a jist of the business sifting through it
like we weren't impressive, impressing triplicates like they said all the while
meanwhile the meandering catalouge the froglike fossils
round off the relics to shear impossible
so where the crystal at, its calling kane and i aint a palladin yet i cant escape these trap doors that enforces that theres a force that doesn't want me getting close to a pure geometric source, now i know this wasn't in the brochure but i do read more, into the lore that says the mystical quest has been dealt with, i thought cid died, hes always coming back
and it all came together like anythin but fairweather such antithetical proclamations cant get any better, down a river, about a route down a river to the root
it was all the same till your name graced the page now im outta redundancies other than grey crock tame. lil advil beggar with a cane sugar its abundant like flame igniting the rudder im fighting the shudder of a 7th inning stretch with no where to place bets but at least theres
its wonderful and cumbersome to be in love with the way something sounds
seriously troublesome to be running out of sound. i take apart a three of hearts with my bare hands for no other reason than speaking bound to text and
through the wire, patches fire is scented luncheon latches lock and higher places are rented
the unlimited premonitions of a license to feel symply isn't rhythmic
its symbolic though mainly systolic diastolic when you don't really feel, something's still turning the wheel. and whats yield-ed is.
This brink sparked how,way at mad him reflect. He couldn't possibly, but that didn't restrict the limits of independence.
I break a bushel and shuffle into the city centre, mentoring an artiste with no headtrip that got the better of me. Just waiting to delete the layers of snowdrift amounting amounting bit by bit on typed strips of thin clipped papyrus enticing systems of revision like listening to televisions on the warring channel blips conspire rhythm on the ss give me more the trick is timid wisdoms like shake a stick at the wired wisps and the crispex perspectivisms dishing out the dirt on the
Some lyrics
Posted  by barrett on November 12, 2013 at 12:10  AM
comments (0)
i
April 2nd, 2012
It's got to be April Second today. It can't be April First everyday can it? Well can it.
Well-crafted
its puzzling the rubble road ending at the hubble telescope,
never, always, sometimes, sure. x3
is it elastic... bands which keep me rapping?
fans in tandem with never that keep me yapping, trapping, twisting, listing, pure. thoughts which rebound on such allure. or in this state, fraught?
drought demur, i can't be lost. what creates the boundaries for our mundane world?
is it always this way, sometimes i can concur but though contradict and control lore. what wit has to do with it aches in the cortex, not too sure
though,
so i make. strides to arrive/ when the tying trolls an and that just has to roll, was it planned? a plateau that makes for tired souls and focus follows so i'll make the next few golden gilded. i lifted an instrument, bored into the mountainous monument to songs that are stricken from the record!,
can i say it moved me at least daccord daccord, in accord with the bylines beats resting easy in silent sheets. white snow on the streets
So what moves feet?- now featured, in a league or two of melted water
Scattered first then drained like a teacher. note well i can't control these spells i cast well i just borrow from the well that can be an addendum, like nintendo with super prefix or powers to uplift.
Now that gravity's gotten in, whats holding us down? i realize its a perfect world when i hear the right sound. din din dimmer, at a simmer with the alter, faltering to proctor this unstarved artist any farther.
I caught her eyeing the words, now this i am told
Is whats not supposed to happen without the help of chords. but we all can think right? I Hope we can all think right
Crash test sillilloquy silly statements made by you or me, verbatim work there way into decency.
Being decendents of harnessing ill remembrance of narsissustic thrills are overkill, like this beat but i'll rap on it still. what way should i drill seargeant. calling bosses by loosely linked synonyms is bringing in the losses. tossed to far to the opposite position rocking pauses because its as fast as ever. never sever ties with losses its costly like faucets probably are and cars and trucks and plains and trains and bars and tucks and spain is specially to spaniards connected to layniards are pick locks we all share the same home with rich parts like stirred marts. correction we now have an occupation occupation malapropped up against the hedgehog detour speed to level out the authenticity. i lost myself in recency reticently reliving read recording rarities ranging relatively rational relevancy to reiterate maybe. really? Reality rarely rivets wrongs with rights but i may have just changed mind tonight.
Trains on planes, walking the planck to tank at the box office.
Crystal dancers prancing on tunics of the lost world topple
Down to the stomach seinfeld sillouhette, still young yet he
Could correspond with the weathered years like a snowstorm yeti
Begetting a ready crowd of setis to link back the living steady
Infultrate his messy system full of fibre optic cables
Breaking fawns to flora doglsled called beverly
A lacy white strap falls from the synapse to anybody willing to grapple
The stamp pro whos able and willing, to pick apart a 5 piece perforated on the table and chilling
In dry ice, wry vice, no ones nicer than the number two typewriter cable connector illing to fare
Up the world with the balsamic vinegarrette salad dressing while nesting are
The stairs and the cupboards, fuck it we'll take cupboards and ride em over fjords
Assured we make the right choice when mine is yours and backwards
Trample over avalanche calibre remonstrances, just mashing the synapses collapses
These rap synthesis financial vibrant title geist dish guising at night in lapses
Of theoretical tangential argumentative vibratto elemental pineapple to be sure spazzes
Tear the traps back, let in the footprint of your phone's app.
No one needed to feed it these things are metal, as soon as its defeated you retract the get go
Which is now in your possesion a lesson in meddaling token medallion for your confection
Arresting the eyes of onlookers, even offlookers, can't stop/// i guess i can
Trains on planes, walking the planck to tank at the box office.
Crystal dancers prancing on tunics of the lost world topple
Down to the stomach seinfeld sillouhette, still young yet he
Could correspond with the weathered years like a snowstorm yeti
Begetting a ready crowd of setis to link back the living steady
Infultrate his messy system full of fibre optic cables
Breaking fawns to flora doglsled called beverly
A lacy white strap falls from the synapse to anybody willing to grapple
The stamp pro whos able and willing, to pick apart a 5 piece perforated on the table and chilling
In dry ice, wry vice, no ones nicer than the number two typewriter cable connector illing to fare
Up the world with the balsamic vinegarrette salad dressing while nesting are
The stairs and the cupboards, fuck it we'll take cupboards and ride em over fjords
Assured we make the right choice when mine is yours and backwards
Trample over avalanche calibre remonstrances, just mashing the synapses collapses
These rap synthesis financial vibrant title geist dish guising at night in lapses
Of theoretical tangential argumentative vibratto elemental pineapple to be sure spazzes
Tear the traps back, let in the footprint of your phone's app.
No one needed to feed it these things are metal, as soon as its defeated you retract the get go
Which is now in your possesion a lesson in meddaling token medallion for your confection
Arresting the eyes of onlookers, even offlookers, can't stop/// i guess i can
Thought beleivers would hold levers holy orders of receivers bell payphone outta order can i leave yours. notes to the quota iota i tote a hindrence of my symptoms i oughtave wrote a prescription for a different octave in a notarized alibi for those who fly in planes when the spherical properties of contingency realize it forms itself like alphabetically papoose did. a truce with the wealth of words say im stupid. now active practice makes time short. and bends around the belt ...so in the long run thats for me to decide thrice triplicate try for more order an ornate celebrate once you finish the song
\
With a wayward way with words, i fleece a million dollar bill on the back of a polo shirt. whatever will whatever won't gathers in the fabric, seats rich drones through a hat trick.
Please matches coalesce with the bones of a rubric, the rural timid ration, of the fusion.
Of tact and tease, passion, test and tone, bastion with a tunic round the bureaucratic mention of the first men that lives with a ransom noting the music. that some dance on, alone with the all, and in with the ruins of the contract ceased lest it hone the sound of lactic acid thats all around it, these adroit figures figure ligaments while the others offer impediment, and usher in new ways to connect us, to spacious blent platforms where we trek truss bridges and get around to stupendous feats
Theres a world outside of here
Whether its close far or near farther there farthest i don't care
Im going and ill change this place
Maybe once im gone ill walk away
/its unnerving the birdwings i use to break the turnpike. my inner workings, morphing like a fashion trend. satellite heights. call it a site. geo geo station synchro retrograde negation in one way street wise meet placates the defeat of common traitors acting as commontaiters by definition only save your selves from conch shells or rebel. hell i'll even throw in wealth! At war with the will to cover still covert stilts tbat i set up to stop the bells ... ...like they say: rock them shelled from the hardplace, shelled by the inbetween. like the rock use to say to man and still can you smell what the rock is cooking. just to make slang for all my children
I don't want to be in settlement, id rather just pick you a better man. how can i hide from this integrational replacable bed again
Cadillac though cataracts. lilac and lie back.
Sleeping in a new car till the sun retracts
My eye lids, im riding out waves of dystopia
Through my macrocosmic catastrophic blent myopia
Wheres the wonder gone, or is it here under the papers. oh the save yourself games we deem as majors, like! Tame yours and unfold your relatively dull straight rapier. fence to fence to fence to fence. to be again under the selfsame sky, i might be dense to wonder what id have to drink. probably die. spend the whole afterlife not having to try to relax relatively, because i got drunk and into a swordfight. how silly
No no no no here the wonder has tatooed curtains on its its belly. with angel wings on its tassles and blows a dog whistle to stretch the limits like i did. tried to relax and faxed a whole pig inside myself. fiddled with the control panel in my computer with the intent to install more software. didn't run smooth weird
Cadillac though cataracts. lilac and lie back.
Sleeping in a new car till the sun retracts
My eye lids, im riding out waves of dystopia
Through my macrocosmic catastrophic blent myopia
They say stress is a syllable impressed with itself at rest. at least i think they do to test, if it is with those that want it that way. cuz they sit
On the fence. but to no fence sitter is there a letter also deemed a number that could follow the letter i could write cest la vie deemable as a number, you could smell the ink. to bad im on a computer now don't you think its sad to have to laugh at the jokes that aren't funny thats why we need more staff writers with less stressed out math
Matchable word wrap rappable stapled papable reiterationaly detainable strung out silly\
To no fence sitter is this pity
Cadillac though cataracts. lilac and lie back.
Sleeping in a new car till the sun retracts
My eye lids, im riding out waves of dystopia
Through my macrocosmic catastrophic blent myopia
It comes from pockets, this lake lorn to profits sa storm forever marketted
In bed reassured locketed with a better stirred rocketship straw like they bend around the universal paltry
Faulty draw bridge cursed to doctor the author to balk at marker tips/ and fellow ships
Hello grips. yalls fools, in order, target stripped. like borders thatll be clipped
So how bout we dip into the sprinkles ya dig got it rigged
Reverse psychology never worked its a fib
Coerced within the drab, sadist symtematic live life logger's mill
I got a lotta milk to spill so cry your eyes out against that windowsill
Wu tang widow few can sit through full blown metal thats why its done in chambers
Little by little
We're really stars, talk about large, we're living legends rhythmic system bobbing within a symbolic farce. tardy for the charge of the trade that displaces chemical bonds a series of pawns that are normal can conceive but can't believe that two that couldn't can't relive what they releave through. kinda coalesces cuz none were made i think there was an issue of the globe and mail that relates, call it late to the place meant for the race, that reinstates you as a muse to my tape deck
Half way down we split we call the biggest bluffs, take the chips, and realize the stuff we're made of isn't rushed /its a slowburn bottom feeding toss to turn it up alright defeating of the dismal, this won't go away i try to rough it out and for years don't know how long its been though /it doesn't matter, ive seen the sad skies, asked the wise whys, flipped the coins twice. ripped the package open and seen you in a bag of rice for now i'll warm the ice of your impress/ id guess youd stress alone had so many bricks admiring the structure of your home. is it just to look at you id king my castle if i had to but i play kinda rude, no time to plan it out, just gotta get into your shoes. run about, collect the collapses, like past tense was fashioned.
I shift sands while i walk, shake hands while i talk, cheap brands when shop its all the same to the doc. stocked shelves in the past, been in locked cells thoughts fast with nothing to do but hold fast. chalked cues by myself not at the same time, but maybe impressed ladies with nothing but an envelope that was never opened i think its barely spoken but it happened and im lately overrated by sundry hate-mes thought a girl was giving birth to a baby sang my song by the same name to make it less shady had an impromtu date with an 18 year old babe sharing sad stories while i was staring into nowhere mostly was the host to a rave scene at least thats what the drugs got me saying held a prayer position too long to get them to notice i might be praying playing the 5 same songs thats still going on patients passed me by while i waited last man in the spaceship till the same cell became vacant, been there a few times racing all alone to facilitate the same which i Hope will remain clandestine till i figure out the name realized the whole banal thing was a shame had a bagel with herb and garlic, untoasted, talked in frog throat, realized i said tart lit, and many things that i didn't spit, spit like rambo, wrote about rambo, metacarpal workouts pretending to play the strings had a stand still smoked so many cigarettes drank a shot of alcohol and i think its still affecting me, saw my mom vanish in her hall and something mightve jumped out from the tree. found out it was hard to believe in a static frivolity played super mario two player without luigi, think i sat through one movie. got close before watching good will hunting till it became love scenes burnt plaid in my jeans, durst fad with the scene, cursed out loud with a serbian in the suburbs who has dreams. wrote words not knowing what the mean, kinda... read a little nietzche figuratively speaking
I take the stair case, put it in my briefcase. my legs were sore, so i soar over there say: were you aware im the rarist terrorist bearing garish overbearing parents who say no more swearing to be the fairest.
There there rest. i take a pairing of stairing to work the wearing. what is this really? Could there be more sharing. up to the minute news nightly for our type of daring. darlings markings on my skin from the offering talking out loud in syncopation
Rest assure the words that i could walk around your were were never worn till this my goodsir take one step down from your throne and pardon the yearning, learning, burning, discerning, confusing barely tolerated person myself one addict churning socratic thought to balance with balm and blame his decided practice all the while the worlds turning the furnace is a convent for my inner workings where terms lurking become birthing females some loved and some hurting some unavailable some turn pale. whatever worms its way to the surface, i cherish and wail, brandish till they stop working so i may stay and avail.
All i ask is some ears to my leers and gazes inside the lab and the mazes to phase with a stasis of my voice and patience for its not fraught with good form yet yet it might shape this whole place into a palace, the talent
Notably fastened to the cork of granite leaking out the backhand. digits rivet sifting on the bandstand. grandslam to
1Patrick Stewart – best known for his role as Captain Jean-Luc Picard on Star Trek: The Next Generation.
i Like patterns, like phantoms, like saturn, like lanterns. (like saturn, like patterns, like lanterns like phantoms.)
posies
Posted  by barrett on November 12, 2013 at 12:05  AM
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Shaped with a hand so gentle, yet strong
It's instantly burnt and hardened. Like lentils
The vase pronounciation gentled,and drawn
And a flower for my pardon. Daffodil
in simplicity i wander like a child, too complex for the cows to come home. the scenery blends in with me like a bus-bust going for broke.
the soap i used totes, but I virtually know no one.
now you should know, that if you're reading this, there are certain words that just stick out, like hollograms. take a piece of me...
if there were an essay on it, it'd be titled: Those Who Know Me Know. I can act like I read it. hey, again, but really its just the dice. on a different starbust candy tranquility spin i realize i am only what i make of myself, call this the denoument.
there is no cafe,
there are no more intruder sundial batteries
i wish i could say something was true. days seem quill/
maybe it's maybellene
Posted  by barrett on November 12, 2013 at 12:05  AM
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so, someone got change for a $1000 bill
This is the wildest adventure you've ever been on.
Girls, grills, gills
I swam till i couldn't sea the shore, in the sands of our lies.
Running thin, on empty, and I shift my head just to realize.
I wonder how long it will take for my posture to collaborate.
If there were an easier way to say I told you so, I wouldn't.
but i melt around the edges and evaporate in turn.
And yearn for a yeilding, that doesn't even earn.
Sporadic spirally spells of sepsis, if thats well,
correct then i was guessing, and i thought it too as wells.
This is the dawning.
The
Dawning.
In the land known as Patience, representatives have patience. They are practically representing, patiently, presenting their respective land known as patience. There are no doctors, just patients.
In the land known as Doctors, representatives have credentials. They are without practice, patiently waiting for patients.
The doctors built a ship, and docked Patience. For about 3 years, nothing happened, but everyone was patient.
The patients built a ship, and landed on Doctors. Immediately the patience had docked. Credibility of their respective home had failed.
Years later, the son of God led them all back home.
The patients on Patience. And the doctors on Doctors.
Thinking back, I wouldn't have changed a thing. I hear Billy became a stockbroke, I still think about him every time I pass through the city. Ryan passed away in a trainwreck. What a trainwreck.
This is not a dream. The red numbers blink. Celia needs to get to class. I start the motorcycle, she is already out the door. She mounts the leather seat. I look away. We're already on the way. She takes off her helmet after the engine stops, I take it, and she glides into the institution graced finally with her presence.
She sits tapping her pencil on the desk, the professor is trying to see her take note. She just breaks the pencil somehow. The professor points to the door, and tells her to read chapter seven. She walks out the door quietly. The whole faculty just dies a little inside. She is already out the door. I look away. We're already on the way.
This is not a dream. The red numbers blink. Celia needs to get to class. I start the motorcycle, she is already out the door. She mounts the leather seat. I look away. We're already on the way. She takes off her helmet after the engine stops, I take it and she glides into the institution graced finally with her presence.
She sits tapping her pencil on the desk, the professor is trying to see her take note. She just breaks the pencil somehow. The professor points to the door, and tells her to read chapter eight. She walks out the door quietly. The whole faculty just dies a little inside. She is already out the door. I look away. We're already on the way.
This verse abridgement of my first project: Sewn Crates revised April 17th, 2012, 19:00.
Sewn Crates
Epilouge
Some writing can be Sewn, as so. His silly, but mainly: influential, writing, in some places known as negligee parts...Where, some don’t assume positions of retained-anything-at-all, for
they retain creativity constantly, creating a void of tolerance. But by what bias does the distinction between poise and constancy become immeasureable.
In other words, when do we consider which is best?
It takes only a matter of time in a truer sense to see what.
“So what do we make of truth?” The Sewn idiosyncratic collection of thoughts put together to be part of this endeavor notably.
“Well, it has to be time, or sequential apartment inside thereof.”
“A path between points might stumble on some segment of the answer.”
...But she is brash as the brass: arriving thorough jazz of lucidity.
brick a brack
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 10:55  PM
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This morning was different. The sun had already made its way past and over the shrub. It couldn’t have been me. As I walked along the brick and what? Plastic structures I envisioned the place from a top-down angle, it seemed wonderfully cloying, for the time being, seeing it, with reason, was enough to dream.
Sarah woke up off the bed and parted her hair, alone… shook her head and went straight for the kitchen. Out the window she saw the houses and shrub and shrubs. She had just reached for the cabinet when Allen came back from his walk, he’d be having coffee too.
“Sarah, I think it’s time we…” he abruptly paused.
Sarah reached the instant and smiled to him with a turn-out-pout in assuming.
“There are just too many bricks. We’re living in a brick cult or something…” Allen trailed off and sat down, “some for me.”
I knocked on their door where they retold the
While the poet practises philosophy...
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 10:25  PM
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Through a torn implement of a derivative of something subjective, translated where no relationship exists, I pirate an alien tongue to make you slave to the wonders of fun readership.
Nietzsche: The philosopher usually quotes the poet.
"smash my harp onstage"
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 9:50 PM
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newt
a baby newt watching destiny.
fell in love with albany.
all crazy and felt, like a rail in a felt.
the stealth belt melted weltd
Total War Part three, and the startling beginning!
The fighter plains came below the ceiling and the Japanese destroyer stopped in the water, the few anti-aircraft guns slowly and laboriously positioned themselves to predict the flight path of the almost versatile American aircraft. Suddenly the most versatile aircraft made their way from the west, the destroyer shot in front of the intercept path of the American aircraft.
The American aircraft two by two split up, the two west most dipping under the flightpath and towards the destroyer, the other two heading directly towards the Japanese aircraft going as slow as possible.
American transmission:
"Move in from the Indian."
The flak exploded, the planes fired, the propellers roared and the subs searched for each other.
American Transmission:
"Scramble."
There were 4 Japanese planes, they all went down towards the destroyer firing precisely behind the flightpath of the two American Mustangs that were headed for a death sentence. The other two Mustangs fell to intercept the two aforementioned Japanese aircrafts. They were gradually torn apart by the other two Japanese aircrafts.
TBC
Space Lakes Poetry, plus infinity stuff too!
The stars arranged in waves, of replete figureheads seizing lovers’ eyes.
By far the rearranged slaves, were defeated, leading to cover thighs.
At large the paved derringers, were seated after hovering thrice.
So
I’m a poet, I take pages.
And crump on the podium of precedence.
Drunk all the time on love,
Seeing straight through the steel bars.
Posted 1 year ago
meadow
So they walked through the meadow, half sullen, half sunken. The deep end again. He grabbed her by the turned coat and kissed her in midair. She thought deeply right away. He broke the lock that bonded them substituting his astute, and trembling lips accordingly. Of course it was cold, it was always cold here.
The snow fall flaked, For just one day, And it had them distraught, With what came there way.
trail blazer
i was walking in the forest aloof!
with no shoes on my feet, new chew in my tooth!
all of a sudden, I realized something!
The one’s who knew were family too!
So i travelled past the mountains in a flash!
dashed through the tropics in my past!
got around the world in under 80 days
reminded myself it was all a dream, i mean stage.
no one was listening, when the relic hunter came on television.
i guess no one wanted to search for treasure.
or they found it, and had preforsaken it luck it was sunken.
no one remembers the how about a luncheon!
deserted island phonetic witness, to the drastic plastic, hold fast kid.
timex.
rolex
i’ll take a brief habbo to remind you briefly.
Posted 1 year ago
eyeglasses
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 9:40 PM
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stockpiled insufferable malaise mayonnaise outfitter. a title I once hold in good standing, though my new one unabashed regulator suspicion hunter is more to my liking, though I might've liked it If I suddenly went backwards.
a sir lancelot
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 9:40 PM
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the dragon table they called it.
a lamp upon.
no doubt one was talking
when another fell out.
strange enough it was platonic.
like the board.
gypsies, gypsies, unicorns.
two
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:50 PM
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In retrospect I noticed nothing but hands on the clock. The, or what used to be the five, was now a somnolent elevated fracture of a fault line. I mean it could have been a three, no, that would have made it more of what is was and/or trying to be.
As I closed my eyes again I tried quite hard to remember the time, it seemed that it's only requisite feature was that it wasn't really moving.
I take it for granted that it doesn't remember me. Though it had several dislocated minute particles, which reinforced the irregularities, which lead me to believe, that in fact it may have been me, that was indirectly surfacing an extraneous amount of attention towards it's fortunate twice removed indecision, stretching.
A Person eating a croissant in D minor
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:50 PM
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"Delish." Bryant said. "Just, delish. Milkman, brush my gums with 3 ounces."
"Only if you say so."
Spring Paint
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:45 PM
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Snail bold entangle
Servicing built mold mallet
weaving a next hour.
Sail build nautical
Surviving billed miled mollusk
Welding a next hour.
Bale full of caskets
Bringing fledged files wild
Dying, dying durst,
Fraying those flasks'
Tailors on a ship fledged
Dyng, drying reign.
Bleakly abiding
Rain. providing provisions
The darkness cold as,
Faint, drying, nice! Spiced
Emergent flame slain vice
Breaking fees feed fleet
"To society"
Captain called slower cranks.
"We'll" Wheel "we're" well well.
It was an Ideal.
text space
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:40 PM
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Start, I did, once, at lost.
I found a lot.
Out of gaze.
Listening to paradise.
Mastering the flow.
Of where is lost.
Vice.
Is my spice of life?
trite communique
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:35 PM
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Although youth can be fleeting in an impartial clause to retreat, meeting of such distinct distinction can often suffer meet. Alas, in order to become a due, must defend where and when without a reason to offend. By what starry matter do we rise and fall to be patient enough to seek refuge in death? or do we pretend?
Perhaps night shades the intolerable, and the sun soaks the valuable, and the twilight speaks to mollify the all able in creationism on the fly. With such summits of surpass!
The predestined, find ways to allay. The tolerability holds buoyantly, and lastly the changing is dope, so I cut in line at the refreshment table holding a nine with a peace sign. Perfectly constructing a change in demeanor as expressed, presses the certain issue, and the rain must fall as well, plus the moving of the heavens, including but not to mention.
one
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:30 PM
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I was sitting in the middle of an NRA meeting, again. Fran was trying to have a smoke. The biggest gun we got to talk about today was a new Mississippi brand sawed off mod of a single-barrel revolver.
She says, "Pronto, let me have this right now!" To which everyone just wants her to hold the thing.
Some guy at the back opens a tin can and tries to make it louder than it was. Fran doesn't like that, is what I'm thinking. She gently takes the Mississippi loose weight, spins it around, some new guy from, well probably Mississippi walks in and I make myself scarce. Finally, she drops it and I get to hold the thing
«
While the poet practises philosophy...
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 10:25  PM
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Through a torn implement of a derivative of something subjective, translated where no relationship exists, I pirate an alien tongue to make you slave to the wonders of fun readership.
Nietzsche: The philosopher usually quotes the poet.
"smash my harp onstage"
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 9:50 PM
comments (0)
newt
a baby newt watching destiny.
fell in love with albany.
all crazy and felt, like a rail in a felt.
the stealth belt melted weltd
The rain stopped and Dreifus was truly gone, Gezabelle made a snide remark about how Dreifus always fucked shit up. Damian chirped. Prince Scarlet, uncapped the bottle and poured it on the glowing axe. He thought a little faster and gave the beaker to Gezabelle. Gezabelle neglected the axe and Damian appeared. Prince Scarlet cradled the axe into striking position and swung it aiming for Gezabelle’s neck.
TBC
Categorical Imperative,
The categorical imperative is selecting an imperative to execute.To decide what you are.
Going beyond things is the most compromising you can do. It astounds and transforms the boundaries of compromise. Now, I won’t compromise while invading the jurisdiction of formative collaborations, but there is to be noted that, among us, we live with formations of rocks, fences, and meadows. But condolences aside, there is no vague idea for the input that goes unfounded, no one ever finds the solace they’ve truly ignored.
Contrary to belief, it is a good idea to transcend freedom; this is the meaning of freedom. If we are not freeing our transformative opinions, then we are not recognizing solace.
Now, with respect to the geometric simulation of transformation it is really not out of place, just recapitulated slightly within the imagination and imagination’s grid. Whichever way you look at it, you reassign the configuration into accordance with whatever symbolic representation you want to enlighten. It’s not rocket science.
Rocket Science,
Preperation is key to success. Just configure the solace that you misttakenly guided into the Sun. “Sol” if you will.
Now, if there are a few things acting on a rocket, then there will be a net gain of ordinance. Any which way you transform a free thing, you will transcend it’s transcendental freedom.
Starship Enterprise,
I am under attack.
The Stigma of Mental Illness,
Many people are afraid of mental illness, they think that the ones who have a mental illness are somewhat flawed, and they would like to help them. They do not like to help though, therefore they take the fall by falling under the categorical imperative.
Midnight Starship…
The milky way reflects on the surface of the lake,
Slowly walking away at light speed, surfacing tension and calibre.
And even wagon of dialect graces the ripple of a new dimension.
And we all look back to the land.
WE’ve blasted off again,
out of time, and out of space.
There is no way home Christopher…
You are slowly getting more united with
whatever takes you, and rocks you back and forth.
Pray tell, what is your dialect?
is it the ebb and flow of humanity?
are we a weeping ocean of waters?
Do we sail at night wondering the earth?
Is there really a way out of the impure stature of a forebearance?
how do we succintly stoutly, softly ebb out like you.
Rock me back and forth.
Carousel Distinction.
You are not a fucking Horse.
Wet Napkins,
You bloody pinpricart.
doth though feel limp?
Haggle your way through my snaggle tooth
and rinse out your woven texture abundant,
The Navy Blue Cross,
We are the Hindsight of Malpractice,
We are the true Total Menace of Wrought Desire.
We sail above the rafters, and travel gallantly through the fog.
Always sending good men to the Crimson.
Oceanic Letters of Revelery.
Dear Mom,
Ever since I’ve been on this thing, this ship, I’ve been sick. Home sick mostly. I don’t know when I’ll reach home, but I’ve got a feeling I’ll be homesick then as well. I remember your apple pies and the way you treated me like I was a good son, but I think I’ll take Dad’s side on this one and say that I’m just sick.
Dear Dad,
I respect myself now.
Turbulent Fossilization,
Posted 1 year ago
all i need is one mic, and maybe a record contract… rs im looking at you
i battled ballads my beloved rattled with atlantic salmon and travelled above to see the sandman coming, but theres nothing like a muffin from a lady that made you go on and on about nothing like you were punched in the face thrice. enticing victims of the lovely, roughing tridents just to make the blood stop coming. and i rap in fact inside my residence, which takes precedence, but we both watch futurama, where i’m obama, and who santa can’t gift me more than my granma but the llamas that i phathom can’t take lamoz classes because its random. land one, land two, land three and your outlandishly standing at cubical tenement where the roof’s become a sheet landmine plant a flag fragment to mention mine, and yo you can wine and dine any rhyme but the rhythm is decision. so i’ll take you to my ordinary village where i become a villain, take my pills and avoid children, spilling guts like a mut who ate grass and talked to us. you can fuss and dust and rust but rustem. wait buttons! flutter over supper and sputter out crumbs like an usher. im a pencil pusher, but i only push myself to push that pencil aside, and take a stride into the wood, where it could be like santa, but wouldn’t even matter if you were madder, so sad to see you look down, im sorry old lady but i see youre smile as a frown, sometimes i drown in the gown i could create for my sound, like now, but love how? with no other way to do it unless i play cupid with ashtrays, spades, dig me up when you learn to behave. someone save me a square dance till you’re there and sing till you’re rare. bear this tip in mind kevin smith has two eyes in it, and that has two e’s, off me please, are you happy now you beeseech? treason in front of treason, to the sides: reason, now im pleading, mercury is fine, but i know you got a blue tinted visor that reflects signs.
Posted 1 year ago
yo
sigh, citation, invitation, invention, tantrum, tantra, mantra, mammoth, hammers width, famished gift, selfish gift, travel tips, exponent life, life, sift, tif, blip, pill boxes that shot the doctor’s patience. mason’s take on staking the stranded with underhanded band famished land of lost atomized tyrants, based in cincinnati the way a rowdy saddist might mechanize his favourite doll faced doll face. face doll. ollie over and forget about surfing the net for me, because we’re all part of this, it’s you, it’s me. v v v icodan icarine… buy my fucking book if you can’t wait…. anyway, i just put myself down the same way, anyway i would like you to know i will be at the cliffs, if you want you can meet me there. ‘listened to two of the three meter feeder’s . who does w/e think ? anyway, id like you to know. there are astronomers that are backwards but there are satellites too.!
Reblogged 1 year ago from philphys-deactivated20120616 (Originally from 9gag)
2,926 notes
Source: 9gag
some new stuff.
Recumbrant diction is a must-get fiction, frictionless, and imprisoned by etcetera throughout the district. Distinct and cheerful, the precinct quoted an imbecile and put the fashion trend into the motorized vehicle. Already a speeder, flashing demons the cheaters without poise or purpose or pronounced public speekers. Those who know, know. And those who don’t, know.
Okay double down on the pirate envy and wrap an m-16-macheti around your dark navy tribe. no one is offering you any more bromides. so in distinction with reliving the centre of a intrinsic pistol postulate, relegations of negations go famished for the one without a taste for apathy adjoins the furiously comprehending syntax.
If it were up to me, I’d look down upon you all.
Hey is for horses.
Three days later,
Welcome, sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, but I’m busy at dueling with prose…
1.
Darling, no farthing is farther than my grasp. You are a scent, even your weakest, most fragile moment is silence. Let me try to caress your golden locks. Yes, quite. anyway, i thought i’d let you know I’m heading to the cliffs, you can meet me there if… anyway, let me caress your metronome. I’m sure my heart beats faster. anyway, i t hought i’d let you know that im heading to the clif. yo,
2. hey hey its your’s
3. Try to sty the virus that stylus want to be moody assistant. But don’t reveal the secret passenger code! oh no oh no oh no! Have no fear, my whims are heard. Yo, i just want to let you know, I’ll be going to the seal. hey, appeal, up here, altreal.
Vivid was the interplay, surrounded was the dismay, relaxed was the way of life, and intricately woven was the beautiful heir.
Listen, I don’t want to come off naive, but isn’t it you that I see in my reason. ‘Pleasing thank you’s at every turn. It is your turn.
4. Catch me if you can re:
3. I told you, didn’t I?
2.
1. I wanted to tell you, I’ll be.
and now for something completely different:
Formulaic racecar drivers are familiar with the track. Oswald was clever enough to spot Waldo a Subaru for nothing but noting. Twinkling a toting was the voting for Waldo to trophy.
"This Subaru handles curves."
"What doesn’t?"
"good point."
ethics or pride?
and now for something exactly the same
Formulaic racecar drivers are familiar with the track. Oswald was clever enough to spot Waldo a Subaru for nothing but noting. Twinkling a toting was the voting for Waldo to trophy.
"This Subaru handles curves."
"What doesn’t?"
"good point."
ethics or pride?
and now for something, outrageous!
Yo, ollie, lets take the trolley, to the mall, he, the volleyboy, is about to be destroyed… i mean employed, by the way he gathers baskets and weaves in certain tapestries. Baby! Lady! Maybe freckles all over my petals.
Chance of flurries.
Warm your bureaus
I’m about to get aromatic.
Daffodil distant, can’t even fly your feathers.
What teathers you to the Earth, for I fear we’re all letters.
But be that as it may, the stars can reach you, for they have longed arms only to beseech you.
On my quest through poetry, I give a roundhouse my reply. I say, I’ll kick it with you, if your lips aren’t even dry.
But be that as it may, say, have I seen you before, somewhere pleasant, somewhere for?
Realizing the count down is backwards is like finding out the…
Dear Anteater,
Would you stop eating all those ants, they are just ants!
I practice speaking out of character:
Spoiler alert!
I’m no critic, I’m hardly a cynic. I care for cyllindrical things and lampshades.
Where no wolves go, is the place where I’ll go. ‘They say follow the footprint low, and await the runaway.
It was truly beautiful; Earth had collided with a falling angel. No one knew why it was placed this way. Maybe to interupt the fashion dialouge of a caretaker stray. Play with me now:
It was aesthetically pleasing, rocks fell on the rocks. Everyone thought they put it in place. Maybe to interupt the fashion dialouge of a caretaker stray. Keep on!
I will now reveal a secret about winning the lottery!
it’s tough
I think I should try to focus, as not to locus the impurities I adore. J’adore.
A map is a contour
A star is an end
A black hole is something else
Where have we happened to bend!
Lend me your eyes! tie in the rising tide! Confide in a map, and try to peel that False hood out of bed.
Tread lightly on speculations. for the spectacle.
Exclamation points for 145 pages starting now.
Finally a dj that knows what I like
Finally a jd that i can take
Finally a fantasy
Finally a love sorry
Finally a fifth entity
Finally I’ve remotely battled a ship that would cease to seize up manufactured goods at a salsbury price
Finally the cloud’s got angry
Dices don’t go up to seven
its rhetoric
its bliss
its ignorance
its beneficial
its detrimental
its insane
its inhuman
its protege is turning upside down
the humble never yell
Anyway
Anyway
I’d like you to fill in the blanks…
119 to go
Prince Robin Hood,
Would you return to California for make up.
Okay, this guy and i were sailing on a yacht, when we decided to pick up morse signals on a transister radio. no one was expecting it so we were able to hear the dolances, cadences and cliff note offenses. we were submitting our memory to stimuli.
It’s a simple procedure, they shock you.
Hi, this is my essay on
Transcendental Didactic Dialect and it’s Recursive Dichotomy of Sanctuary and Syllabus.
Many don’t think didactication is a word. it’s recursive dichotomy of sanctuary and syllabus.
"worst quote ever" : "actions speak louder than words."
do you see what people get away with?
do you know how to bridge the gap between moby and techno?
do you paint with all the colours of the wind?
you can’t own the earth until!
I envision a large estimate of subculture gone awry for the lack of deposition and dilligence.
I dream of a fruitopia
My reality is relative to others’ reality.
I subject myself to theirs, creating no objection usually, unless it is “pro”jected.
Then I jettison the goods like a really overweight gentleman.
Figuratively speaking I am one.
But this does not deny the fact that I am biassed to bias, and try to try, and harassed to harass, and figure things out.
my inventory is replete, my headphones are stuck on repeat, and im meet for mead with any swine fellow who’d like to look at defeat.
Glory,
The compassion, the betrayal, the sardony, the farthing line, the cast of
Will and Grace
I’m just Debra Messing with you, I actually can pay attention.
…or pave retention, or wave indecently.
Aristotle was a lumberjack
Plato was a triangle
Socrates was intolerable
And peter pan jumped over the candle.
I’m so nomadic, I turn styles like coats on display.
Whether THIS is right or wrong, we’re all asking the same question.
and it goes a little something like this…
What is a quasar?
it’s funny, i never really thought about enigmas until it was jammed down my throat as passivity.
its funny, i never really thought about parrots until they jammed their chin in my treblecliff
its funny, people has stars in it
its not funny, because that is not right!
is THIS a quazar?
anyway, id like to let you know, vulcanize my tires, and i’ll retire.
yo, this is the best way to get someone up
oy, this is not the worst end to forget you down.
I’ve only been writing for about an hour now, he said softly, speaking into his soul. and he was about.:.
The grace of a thousand whiskers.
The tenacity of a tendency.
The revelry of revelation.
And the putrification of petrify
The audacity of England
The stench of a skunk,
The tablet of a doctor,
and the feeling’s run amok
The audacity of a minature model factory
For children to read good,
and be good at other stuff too, good.
Every night he wandered aloof
In the Reciprocity of Relish
The err finds its way
into the end of a sentence
and like sci/fi just day
Strangled past the point of inferiority
by a femininity known as a panther
A type of dance just to shatter,
The glass you saw my through, faster.
A glitch and an alibi,
Sought precedence,
Ali baba was hiding
in a technologic briefcase.
Casing the rhythm for melody…
Chasing the chasm for bridges
Tracing the steps through the symphony
As the slither out of the sides of correct technique
Slop.
One De-sigh-or
Scene:
A movie set. Five stars. Pop-corn, overpriced, celebration.
Weak at the knee, hunger in the tooth, i third vermouth.
so, someone got change for a $1000 bill
This is the wildest adventure you’ve ever been on.
Girls, grills, gills
I swam till i couldn’t sea the shore, in the sands of our lies.
Running thin, on empty, and I shift my head just to realize.
I wonder how long it will take for my posture to collaborate.
If there were an easier way to say I told you so, I wouldn’t.
but i melt around the edges and evaporate in turn.
And yearn for a yeilding, that doesn’t even earn.
Sporadic spirally spells of sepsis, if thats well,
correct then i was guessing, and i thought it too as wells.
This is the dawning.
The
Dawning.
Posted 1 year ago
"spend some dough at table three!" »
a rare artifact known as bookin it.
Posted 1 year ago
one of hundreds of lyricisions.
never, always, sometimes, sure. x3
is it elastic… bands which keep me rapping?
fans in tandem with never that keep me yapping, trapping, twisting, listing, pure. thoughts which rebound on such allure. or in this state, fraught?
drought demur, i can’t be lost. what creates the boundaries for our mundane world?
is it always this way, sometimes i can concur but though contradict and control lore. what wit has to do with it aches in the cortex, not too sure
though,
so i make. strides to arrive/ when the tying trolls an and that just has to roll, was it planned? a plateau that makes for tired souls and focus follows so i’ll make the next few golden gilded. i lifted an instrument, bored into the mountainous monument to songs that are stricken from the record!,
can i say it moved me at least daccord daccord, in accord with the bylines beats resting easy in silent sheets. white snow on the streets
so what moves feet, now featured, in a league or two of melted water
scattered first then drained like a teacher. note well i can’t control these spells i cast well i just borrow from the well that can be an addendum, like nintendo with super prefix or powers to uplift.
now that gravities gotten in, whats holding us down. i realize its a perfect world when i hear the right sound. din din dimmer, at a simmer with the alter, faltering to proctor this unstarved artist any farther.
i caught her eyeing the words, now this i am told
is whats not supposed to happen without the help of chords. but we all can think right? i hope we can all think right
Posted 1 year ago
these pieces were taxed under “wackchainwriting”
when you finally catch what
you been thinking backwards about youll see the pattern how you farfetched the freedom
As I stood on the porch it occurred to me how challenged I was for words. For something only the word robust check phonetically can tolerate had perched its own tolerance on the fencing in front of me and heard. It came to order magnifique with fjords and fissures under its belt and a penchant for pronounced plummage. One that must plummet! from the summits of city buildings only when it was coaxed not to function. Ceilings brittle and young yet. He took his wing and threw a bolt of lightning into the hopes that it wouldn’t use its feet and came at me like a jet.
"Take off your hat"
Sorry Mrs. Hawking
in simplicity i wander like a child, too complex for the cows to come home. the scenery blends in with me like a bus-bust going for broke.
the soap i used totes, but I virtually know no one.
now you should know, that if you’re reading this, there are certain words that just stick out, like hollograms. take a piece of me…
if there were an essay on it, it’d be titled: Those Who Know Me Know. I can act like I read it. hey, again, but really its just the dice. on a different starbust candy tranquility spin i realize i am only what i make of myself, call this the denoument.
there is no cafe,
there are no more intruder sundial batteries
i wish i could say something was true
The planet known as Folksong can be a long ways a way. Tourists range from rare owl watchers, music afficianadoes and - mostly - independent artists who wait for transit, hitchhike or save up their money for low class vessels in search of a gig or two. You see: Folksong’s varying governence funds many artists as a way to import technologies that keep up appearances in the other sectors. With more than two thirds of its 11 billion inhabitants, artists - it is known that in this galaxy, the best music is from Folksong.
Ever since the Stradivarians invaded in 1867, and situated their population of 3 million the people of Folksong’s cheif export has been audio files. Having no computers at the time they recorded the music in many different formats and stored them in temples erected almost immediately after the subordination. Nice, insulated temples. Before 1867 it is hard to find any music data from Folksong, though the Stradavarians prolific style of ballad was almost instantly blown up into a complex diversity of song in the late 1800s. As it is said in prose many times over, the surviving members of Folksong probably became instruments themselves.
Books authored by conspiracists, theorists, intergalactic historians and radio djs with too many samples, comment on the fall of cities, loss of state demarcation
Grafiti on an AS
The planet known as Folksong can be a long ways a way. Tourists range from rare owl watchers to music afficianadoes and mostly turn up as independent artists who wait for transit, hitchhike or save up their money for low class vessels in search of a gig or two. You see: Folksong’s varying governence funds many artists as a way to import technologies that keep up appearances in the other sectors. With more than two thirds - of its 11 billion inhabitants - artists, it is known: that in this galaxy: the best music is from Folksong.
Ever since the Stradivarians invaded in 1867, and situated their population of 3 million the people of Folksong’s cheif export has been audio files. Neither races having any musical interest or ability at the time, it is odd to think that in the few months of situation, instruments and inspiration became widely available and almost immediately were put to commercial use. Having no computers at the time they recorded the music in many different formats and stored them in temples erected almost immediately after the subordination. Nice, insulated temples. As it is said in prose many times over, it is quite possible that the whole historic liberty taken by a scholars, was that Folksong ordered 3 million classical instruments to keep up appearances. With no such race as the Stradavarians having existed. Having afforded such a liaison - one that outweighed the rest - Folksong earned its reputation, quite like those scholars.
the take on it is submersed
two strands.
one jettisoning goods but restocking just as easily
the other an emerging world
a jam band emcee feesibly makes the two first
over and over,
now a piano sounds.
the take on it is submersed
two strands.
one jettisoning goods but restocking just as easily
the other an emerging world
a jam band emcee feesibly makes the two first
over and over,
now a piano sounds.
“Where to start? emits what was locked inside someone but arts are like parts of us collaborated constantly tart specimens of specialization in small muscle tissues.” a loud gaffaw is heard. “Trust me, risk you, before I lose you to my fancy take a dance with the chance you might also be lost. Ransom. Balsamic vingerette on the green petals, that were raised that way. I say, is it not right for a ripe melon to contaminate a hole in your body
its all about arches,
attention deficit
Posted 1 year ago
nf book i’m working on, prospectors?
S
ense and Nonsense\
Sense is something we deal with, nonsense is something we negligently try not to for our own sake. Can you really call someone insane? Rorschach.
Paintings always provide nonsense, because perfection isn’t even real. But do we gap the bridge, making reparations with the likeness?
Now, it’s no surprise cymbals awake the senses.
Symbols are studied and then catalouged in a commulative database. When someone hasn’t heard a melody do sometimes they know how it goes? Cross-referencing from popular culture? What amneties are there to offer to whats ill-reputed as nonsense? Any form of movement is discernable both to witness and to catalouge, and everything is moving.
So
This makes sense if you agree that everything is making sense. If it weren’t you wouldn’t know of it.
Denial
Sometimes I have thought that a part of a human knows mechanisms - in a laymens metaphor circadian rhythms. That maybe we always know what time it is. That we know what the dice roll will yield. Maybe we always know the answer to a multiplication problem. That we really know when someone is lying.
What the brain makes sense of just by commissions is hidden prior to understanding, allowing us to alter reality in able to experience it. This is where rendition becomes interpretation and sense is made. Interpretation should be seen as a process over time.
Numbness
Programmed to be unaware of these answers, leaves us to be fashioned by external forces, which is perhaps the only thing keeping us conscious. Like a surgery that is taking place the time of day unmonitored will confess its wishes to the individual when they have just regained track of time.
It is the reason why we sometimes hear our alarm clock cohering within our fading dreams.
A nonsensical statement’s diction will attract different recognizances. As the malaise of alien sensitivity subsumes your consciousness, different thoughts come to mind. All sensitivity is alien though, everything is interpretation.
Luck
Luck is made by the brain for the brain, strictly associated with expectation. Luck is just another neurotransmitter that takes any given length to reach its destination w. The path taken by its representatives enforce either self righteousness, or self wrongness when one has made a prediction. This venn diagram-dichotomy of right and wrong to the self must be ambiguous since its host is unknown; although its receptor intuits a little and unearths some of the numbness. With the repeated exposure to words and nuances of an authority, the more meaning and value will be added upon it.
Being Aware
After enough self righteous action, the part of the brain implicated to make a certain choice will produce more valuable outcomes. This immediately precedes and parallels repetitious action. The two go hand in hand. The former being committal and the latter being promiscuous. Then again the former’s shadow is always cast on repetitious action, entailing a little commitment all around.
Commitment
Being committed to one source
I’d wish to remain anonymous, but that’s not humanely possible in summation as well.
monster M*A*S*H*
you heard it here folks.
Posted 1 year ago
salvage all ballasts, bastion to the dance, grandeur of connoisseurs, words to spurn sporadic temperament.
Posted 1 year ago
there must be a way to make a generator out of a windmill that also acts with gravity to increase the amount of force collected.
like you know those machines that constantly move, what if one was driven by wind too? wait, everything is a windmill. lyl
Posted 1 year ago
saidness
I’m a poet, I take pages.
And crump on the podium of precedence.
Drunk all the time on love,
Seeing straight through the steel bars.
meadow
eyeglasses
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 9:40 PM
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stockpiled insufferable malaise mayonnaise outfitter. a title I once hold in good standing, though my new one unabashed regulator suspicion hunter is more to my liking, though I might've liked it If I suddenly went backwards.
a sir lancelot
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 9:40 PM
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the dragon table they called it.
a lamp upon.
no doubt one was talking
when another fell out.
strange enough it was platonic.
like the board.
gypsies, gypsies, unicorns.
two
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:50 PM
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In retrospect I noticed nothing but hands on the clock. The, or what used to be the five, was now a somnolent elevated fracture of a fault line. I mean it could have been a three, no, that would have made it more of what is was and/or trying to be.
As I closed my eyes again I tried quite hard to remember the time, it seemed that it's only requisite feature was that it wasn't really moving.
I take it for granted that it doesn't remember me. Though it had several dislocated minute particles, which reinforced the irregularities, which lead me to believe, that in fact it may have been me, that was indirectly surfacing an extraneous amount of attention towards it's fortunate twice removed indecision, stretching.
A Person eating a croissant in D minor
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:50 PM
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"Delish." Bryant said. "Just, delish. Milkman, brush my gums with 3 ounces."
"Only if you say so."
Spring Paint
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:45 PM
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Snail bold entangle
Servicing built mold mallet
weaving a next hour.
Sail build nautical
Surviving billed miled mollusk
Welding a next hour.
Bale full of caskets
Bringing fledged files wild
Dying, dying durst,
Fraying those flasks'
Tailors on a ship fledged
Dyng, drying reign.
Bleakly abiding
Rain. providing provisions
The darkness cold as,
Faint, drying, nice! Spiced
Emergent flame slain vice
Breaking fees feed fleet
"To society"
Captain called slower cranks.
"We'll" Wheel "we're" well well.
It was an Ideal.
text space
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:40 PM
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Start, I did, once, at lost.
I found a lot.
Out of gaze.
Listening to paradise.
Mastering the flow.
Of where is lost.
Vice.
Is my spice of life?
trite communique
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:35 PM
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Although youth can be fleeting in an impartial clause to retreat, meeting of such distinct distinction can often suffer meet. Alas, in order to become a due, must defend where and when without a reason to offend. By what starry matter do we rise and fall to be patient enough to seek refuge in death? or do we pretend?
Perhaps night shades the intolerable, and the sun soaks the valuable, and the twilight speaks to mollify the all able in creationism on the fly. With such summits of surpass!
The predestined, find ways to allay. The tolerability holds buoyantly, and lastly the changing is dope, so I cut in line at the refreshment table holding a nine with a peace sign. Perfectly constructing a change in demeanor as expressed, presses the certain issue, and the rain must fall as well, plus the moving of the heavens, including but not to mention.
one
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:30 PM
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I was sitting in the middle of an NRA meeting, again. Fran was trying to have a smoke. The biggest gun we got to talk about today was a new Mississippi brand sawed off mod of a single-barrel revolver.
She says, "Pronto, let me have this right now!" To which everyone just wants her to hold the thing.
Some guy at the back opens a tin can and tries to make it louder than it was. Fran doesn't like that, is what I'm thinking. She gently takes the Mississippi loose weight, spins it around, some new guy from, well probably Mississippi walks in and I make myself scarce. Finally, she drops it and I get to hold the thing
empty beaches track number two - midnighter
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 5:45 PM
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tied to nothing, it seems nothing's ever right sometimes at this nothing's ever right. nothing scrubbed off the side of the chosen sojourn of those that fly a kite - at anytime, just makes it stay still a little longer for the clouds to present a quilt to hide, lay under up themselves, over and in the middle the air contours and defines what wouldn't happen to you before it draws the line... and dare, you leave, but nothing's going nowhere for a good while, another mile or two and your set for the ever-yet most majestic set of shore and wet sand that landed you here, panoramic constant view, you can hear you think.. was this even the plan, as you reneg against the wind and head for the pier. the land grows lost, this mist seems coughed, might lights lining the mighty road where shining seems cropped, the one's: out there... possibly caught up in fanfair or some kind of well-wrought self-same desire or a plan of fire... mine's defined divine cost cast fosters water outta thin air. and that's it. while miniscule antiquities givin guff and energy to tough waves, crash. its all this world coming in and breaking what I got, I fill my gull wings up but it seems I've gotta lot and naughts and nots and knots away the privy, hold delay but I can't wait for this air its time I set it straight, set aside, abide, betray align and convey to the point of clutching that rock outside the bay. alright, I'll rake like Velcro, cast silhouttes like shelltoes pose imperfect like van gogh though awkward walk away for heck knows, trim the glass sensitivity with a hook for a hand, till it scratches the surface of a land walked by land, captured, unabashed synapse-structure some guy named Javier's, longlived momentuous embrace caressed by stasis places post puncture the same as ever was best in show these caltrops of mood fun ring-types holding points together the picture (et cetera therein)
you wouldn't even know
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 4:40 PM
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She tried a stint in movies, but that didn’t last very long because her desire for attention irritated the director and he couldn’t work with her any more. Now she is spending some time at Mr. Boddy’s mansion, hoping to work her way into his money.
“Well I’ll tell you what, it wasn’t Mr. Boddy who did this… or maybe it was!” Lightning crashes, the lights go out.
“Why are we playing games, Miss Peacock!” “Shuttle-cock!”
“Well I’ll tell you what, it has to be one of us, we are the only people in this mansion and if it weren’t for Mr. John Green’s scatter brained naivety, he wouldn’t have taken his own life into his hands and married me, Miss Scarlet.”
“Scarletia, darling, where are my glasses, let me see the real you.” Lightning crashes, and in the instantaneous heat John glances at Miss Scarlet and sees the murderer in the reflection of her eyes. The lights come back on, John continues. “You’ve known all along, haven’t you darling, where are my glasses?”
“Okay let’s wrap this up, it was Mrs. Peacock.”
Journal Entries in Blood Part two
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 4:25 PM
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it seems rainbows and militant atheist Richard dawkins' unweaving process of the former seem to be subjugating old news to old news. This is a book I have read. could there be more than 7 colours? I don't think indigo has been shed, though. Looking at alive snow in a hymn to tourach nightly gall'ant yesterday I saw the moon's ring'ed corona for lack of what to call it... in the spirit of this I even thought to think, which I brought no pen yet this ink into the formation of the idea that the moon is a time lapse of something we're so vertigonally dizzy from plus yet!
Anyway could everything we see through our aqueous humour be rainbow spectacular? integrated only through that concept, whereas the liquid crystal display which transforms color from the primaries to the integral to fruit in synchronized fashion like flowering pixel?
Then it seemed endearing to think of colour.
And my eyes couldn't absorb the notion that colour is something we do without, or in abundance/profession in areas of the land non-populated. And fire and wild equatorial forests south of a couple borders where all there is is water, sun, and I'm not sure.
No I'm not sure.
boot with a problem
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 4:05 PM
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in the wake, of a rollerskate, as a blade, thy blossom's must fate.
Take a walk on ice if both were slated, for a mate cross bearings' date, wherein the road melts into some sort of symbolic roll of dice.
Might I gather from this intention of inertia, that the worst way to close yaw, is to add to to too little cross two and add two in the far.
Demoting far to the solicitude of direction that is, where in textbook sequence it is wrong, the first taught egotism of a boot with a problem.
Twelve
Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 4:05 PM
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Twelve, noon.
The scene was electric, like lilies being turned on.
John didn't want to give away any of his smokes, anyway.
the unlimited premonitions of a license to feel simply isn't rhythmic
its symbolic though mainly systolic diastolic when you don't really feel, something's still turning the wheel. and what’s yielded is
Books authored by conspiracists, theorists, intergalactic historians and radio djs with too many samples, comment on the fall of cities, loss of state demarcation
With much reluctance I return to the act of writing.
I fear instruction will intrude upon my production.
What is and what isn't. Now just take in the isn't.
Try to drink these words, drink them, drink the words.
There can't be anymore insane doctrines motivating artificiality,
because without sanity there is no motivation for reality.
If you walked towards a house, with a bag, full of candy, and
asked for more candy, what would you get?
Trick or Treat,
The candle ins\\mide the orange hollow cooked the sinews.
The kids dressed as pirates and ghosts, goblins in droves,
Came to ask for candy.
"Trick or treat?"
See that pumpkin, inside burns a fire so bright, it cooks it's home.
The seeds drip from the sides trying to extinguish the flame!
Sleep when the candle burns out, but children, don't play with fire.
For it's only desire, is to burn up it's cage.
Yes we can see through the eyes of Jack, and look through his grin,
but that pumpkin gets cooked by the candle that hates it, cuz no one
Can see what they've doomed.
We cut that thing open and stick fire in it, give it a face and place it
to scare kids away, Why ask me again, I'll trick you real good.
"Get out of here."
Thanksgiving,
I am thankful for the fire that burns inside of me.
I am thankful for the fire that burns inside of me.
I am thankful for the fire that burns inside of me.
Trick or Treat (Director's Cut)
"Trick or treat."
"What do you want, this apple, or this soda?"
"Soda please."
"That will rot your teeth."
"We want people to see the fire inside."
"What will you do when the fire goes out?"
"Sleep."
"I think I see trouble."
"Run, take this soda, drink it, show people the fire inside"
"Oh it's Jack, he's back."
Jack stopped his nightmare, front hooves to the air.
The moon smiled. Jack looked at the moon, which reasoned with Jack.
A year later, the kids showed up toothless, now what would they drink!?
Jack alighted walked over to the house muttering to himself. He pulled off his head and placed it beside the other jack-o-lantern and his body vanished, clothing fell to the ground!
Now these flames, together, this moon reflecting the fire that burns inside of them.
Next Hallowe'en the pumpkins weren't carved, but stayed in the patch, and whoever does cut them, will ride a nightmare through the streets.
Blockade
Posted  by barrett on November 9, 2013 at 10:45 PM
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Out into snow, the variable, the rarity slow... I don't recall... Though this map has ever flourished inside my inner workings let me see can this be European never mind it's too kind I see
Orange crabgrass goner made his way into town
and not a grind not a petal not a suitor did frown.
chalk
Posted  by barrett on November 9, 2013 at 5:05 PM
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broken openly, wroten wrought priority dimension all a bliss terribly, berating token snaps at tobacco flak and focal point pointsetta free. flame a priori done one d
sleep walk track 11 the midnighter
Posted  by barrett on November 9, 2013 at 5:05 PM
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I see it farther off, a dazzling fade cone, it presents itself well. Enough to make myself elf, yet im in and out on the spot, I can take you dazzling fade cone, even if you’re warmer and I’m not,
what does one of these dazzling fade cones have to do with right here? Ask the cone I tell myself, well here’s what it cheered stir and said quite clear
Dazzle dazzle, bright bright, black as a piece of broken filament, without a noticer and I’m out of spite, you dazzle too, I’ll somehow notice us not and maybe we could switch spots if you’ve got time to.
Oh dazzle cone, fading in and out of dazzle and shine I guess, if there were ever any reason for me to drink the hyde tonic, id sleep and that’s all but me, im off to the next dazzling fade cone peace.
Now Im in an uproar of sentiments from the news and whats being grown at the edge of this, while hedges reign at wreckless once about as I was somehow walking that is so so calm as calming water is
Walking thinking that and this about the pantry which I come across with its noisy doors
You’re not a Dazzle bright cone, what makes you so sturdy and angry at the floors
Well im open to mostly anything
You’re not a dazzling fade cone, im outta here
X2 “what have power chairs thrown”
Drifting span tips through grass and moisture like an abyss of lie down mist pasteurized like whisper-vapour switched blades fresh still on some so so parade, though I know im really about a mile away, dazzling fade cone, what sort of hunt is that! the inspiration leads like a trombone scale
You’re not a dazzling light cone, hack
In a city of art illumined by those, and artistry as shows, no light or dazzle enter lest it owner be prone.
I will walk these halls of street encompassed in strap and sheet, so those who fail home can see me shown sleep.
A bone to pick with a kitchen and a key to the memory illuminated I mean by the light and not by the tree.
A fig would figure place about and above the beach, what power chairs have thrown are those of heightened sensitivities, and yes we do have feet,
Branching out to seek, and all relativity all weak and reep.
You’re not a dazzling light cone x5
climate
Posted  by barrett on November 9, 2013 at 5:00 PM
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Beautiful, like sand
Delivered in brand,
trope
Posted  by barrett on November 9, 2013 at 4:55 PM
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To no one's inclination I shall undo the workings of my serious alter ego. That is all. No on second thought I'd like to ungainly reduce my inclination to the workings of my serious ego. That is not all. My serious as I've began to call it, is not really much of a good title for what that ego permits, instead, it is more of a fallacy of intercourse between the undoing and the doing, much like a half-knot. The strands are somehow vivaciously unstringable into certain whiplashes, doing mostly, yet undoing. This comes from the amount thereof. Now the only circumspection I can come across is the unwillingness of all of them to undo, needless to say... vivacious! Where I come into workings of them I began seriously, but don't recall the tearing bipartisan sustenance which gains on the level or point-tropic that has me subdued by reverse engineering, though this could be my view. The only thing stopping me from actually performing this activity, is everything here I mention to you.
valurous yarn
Posted  by barrett on November 9, 2013 at 4:50 PM
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I met her in a coffee shop, our coffee shop. She had heels and a dress, I had a longsleeved shirt and a raincoat. She stepped up to the counter in dots and asked the counter for her address.
I said, “you’re not a telephone operator are you?”
She said, “Pleased to meet you.”
She may have been a little too persuasive but I was beaming on the inside.
She said, “Why don’t you take off your coat.”
I said, “oh I’m on my way.”
I recall that that was my coffee shop once.
Winter's Breath track 5 the midnighter
Posted  by barrett on November 9, 2013 at 4:40 PM
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Winters breath
Come on and follow, bereft, in other now: adept, as while snow light crept, the your basic loco motive step, into step, into step, and got away with what’s left, sweet, I can almost hear my feet before they echo into my ears, sheesh, what a blast, and more than the last, what fell to smash into pieces to succumb to reaching my lead, defeat… featured in an eggshell pattern, comprised of witchcraft and made into a lull with what you have it… I tear apart a three of hearts. I in all in all lay down my cards, no draws, drawn away into step and I say, windy, low, howlin, wailin crawlin down pale and all windy assailing, with which left with “come on and follow”, so as now intrepid movements I eschew. Four hearts find eachother and I’m exact sense like move. More than one could guess, to look now seems out of breath, but I know I can catch up like the lining of a vest, addressed.
Empirical Rationalism
Posted  by barrett on November 5, 2013 at 6:25 PM
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Rocket Science
In a dwelling with only windows a man lives violent as a clock. The fear of alignment eventually departs... at first easy then quite ease. His only wish a metronome.
The Coffee Spiller
Posted  by barrett on November 5, 2013 at 6:10 PM
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"Look at him over there, unaware and aloof." Sherry said.
"I know, he's probably going to buy something cheap." Larry said, coughing up the money for a newpaper. "his name isWaldo probably."
Waldo walked toward the back of the store with a jingle.
"Like someone out of a book."
"Or short story."
He came back with a hold of coffee, looked at Sherry and Larry while spilling some and moved to the counter.
Larry put the newspaper on the counter. "You're spilling coffee."
"It isn't news to me." said Waldo.
its like finding a book, in a book
Posted  by barrett on October 28, 2013 at 7:50 PM
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She said "Besides these seeds," paused, then we, said "A walk deepens Earth" together "we may have a knack for out curse," I said "out of context" then we said be of course. she asked me "Trying to calculate a normal?" I said \I thought \I was trying to create a normal.
It was dark, black beads of sweat electrically parallel to our eyes she said, "Let me see" birds sounded "Sing me to sleep at night" she said "Don't play." I said chess isn't it the matter at hand. Can't quite recall.
Make me alive.
"that's the spirit, back to exhile." she wondered,
I said "Walking up and down searching for a fire.
Where the moon smiled in descent to mars for it, signifying an ellipse, so truncated and perfectly in disarray, that it could say it got the point. Burning wax and wane like a flame. Burning a stain in my cavity concave convex just to follow suit. Addressing the natural idea of why wind howls at it from it's basement.
"Sneaking glances at?" in desperation for another moment with it, follow me like I was following the hue, as maybe a monolith cries out & reaches distinction. "Sneaking a glass shelf so rotund it abdicated an aberration so a cantaloupe can become some sort of syringe or surrogate, parasitically invigorating a lunar eclipse it would make a blue moon think, at about exactly midnight for ever evading some sort of elevation until it hits me for just looking up, in every waking hour like a strategy somewhat covalent and conveniently constitutional comingling and collecting my skin just to save hours, whence relocating became pigment just to organize some sort of specious reason to feel low, at home at the stroke of winter and spring, while miles away I and who I am not walk west for east to beg a clause to pull me out like a flag which may or may not sit there, knotted by some sort of movemeant, basically the logistics between geostationary and geosynchronous orbits.
"Eclipse to me, I watched the Sun die out."
"That's what the moon said to me!" "as I gazed into eternity. "sheesh, darkness is darkness, and black is black,: Read deeper shallow pirate. x2
"I don't know where the title went."
"so lost ipso factum"
"Watch out fracture..."
"Gallon of?"
"Tongue depressor."
"for both of us?"
"no."
"Is that a satellite?"
"No."
"Is that?"
"A satellite?"
"Heavy?"
"Really."
The moon was 2:45
"You know the sun rises soon."
"Why I never would have known."
"Did you hear the piano, I hear he was talking about you."
"I'll be there."
what is the universe? volume 1
Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 8:25 PM
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The inefficiency of text has never been so reliant. Presuppose a notion roots into this labor above some paper. How often does it come out the same. It goes to say that the production of transmission of these aforementioned proximities hold one in the same, though motioned by an alternator.
As feelings may be more cumbersome, it might be wise to think of the transfer as something that happens in an overlap, as it is to see in cascades in some new starts and fresh excerpts while still in production or closer to a final product. A midway can allow transgression, but something on delivery can be underwhelming. It goes without saying that a lot gets caught up and insofar as it is dealt with.
Does this happen to thoughts?
is composition plural
Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 7:20 PM
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Which has begun to occur queried an odd fellow with a woodwind? To the matter, undescribed in a cellist at heart whence it came to ordinary, ordinance within a medley of composure, though mostly composition and furthermore, as such, notwithstanding, as aforementioned, as a hunch as follows: composition. Harps do not understand math.
As an instrument, strung, last, so , that that can divine arrows as tolerant as craft, some men, in sum, all, all beome strung, while interpreters become undone. Notably in the various iconography of passage, no suitable equivalent becomes prevalent among tranced and/or trampled upon magical movements like one.
Platonic Individend
Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 7:15 PM
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Fracture in descent of a fraction chisel
Destined to foray, where? missing Earth
Gamut recon, a third, a forth, a fifth.
I am not about to go there yet.
Risking a life, livid as lace.
Lost in a realm of sought earn pace
Tore through a flush of never stain
Proud from the way I made this taste.
And I can see them now, they're space.
Cycling fond of the place, I state.
Never reminded of a time they were.
But that's not today. Tomorrow don't.
Feel the same, I know you can stay.
Because when this hammer sates
I just don't feel this whey.
It's not impossible, I know you just.
Don't feel the same
Caligraphy
Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 7:10 PM
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Curser caused interrupt ;inside a moment of the action.
Slow drops out to about right with route written calligraphy Realizing in triplacte: page pending profession, nothing but period in use.
Eerie dots, choked virus thunder. Blissful realm of yet to be manifestation of dreams and file : 'Screen from this stop sign. Leeking letter virus, blazing probabilities seeking down like life from left to ceftre
ALL I grap fin
ALL I grap fin.
the lack
Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 7:00 PM
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The lack of a committed surface. as oppose, to facet.
Is it an image, or a force to dispose of what adheres.
Is an intimidation stretched, through a retching, culminating,
in what is nears, coheres as
impositions of all dispensed
delve in sinc, and out until, every nettle, every weed, every word & everywhere is in an doubt?
one one
Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 7:00 PM
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Heredity is an important fate,
For whose crux holds thy gate.
In evening, prim and late,
Hollowed out for a fiend to grow,
Lest this hair bestow: an evening rose,
Enchant doth fall on her fairy sole.
And don't, doth trot betroth and Glow,
To bloom at once, fall oh.
Invent ive end
Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 6:55 PM
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Preperatory: Tell me dissonance fury.
Fresupposition within one's glory.
Pour these Herculean Terrestrians.
Practically painting a blind man's story
Contour Reciprocal for four foreign force More Smore's Flora Fjords cure sure pores, as roars to lightning.
Invent ive end
Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 6:55 PM
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Preperatory: Tell me dissonance fury.
Fresupposition within one's glory.
Pour these Herculean Terrestrians.
Practically painting a blind man's story
Contour Reciprocal for four foreign force More Smore's Flora Fjords cure sure pores, as roars to lightning.
a few trees
Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 6:50 PM
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Cold and clear (something crisp) like an ambulance's ransom.
Ran some Together in the gathered in the mist we. In the forest, yet.
We intangibly had widows in fronna out of in void for now, in hours. four windows saw some:
Spiders wearing "horse shoes", a' circus of The Path Untrodden to
Down before I get up I never had a chance.
The contours of an allegory in mend, in story. Strong and resembling history close, but no solid curtain, just the one all around that lifts backwards and fits... everywhere, close.
something sacred
Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 6:40 PM
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knife down on a table... a pack of hunters,
iron cage right beside it... enough of a treasure
forget the trade... "I'll see us later"
a reason to rifle door close, a mountain without a trickle of spiteful
the first one to let us off the chain... howl
Names like Barbara under camero thighs
Dames patch farvora manning levers quiet
Fame stuck tamare cans be viral eyes.
yellow orange blue blank close cap cap chirp bless your
forever hasn't mentioned anyone yet let's get this shielding shed on ryes
If I haven't forgotten I came to get through.
No feeling as certain as a way to just get through.
diagonal type on paper, blue
Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 6:30 PM
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Lost
also, "well adapted", well intact.: this fact is, "fact is" fake if like an elastic not stretched but fact is not coiled to make another, and an umbrella could open so sibly & \yes I said sibly silly listen its really a ruler I used, to will me, as these words rehearse and find me a way to rather around on an in and out of a town-o-town clown frown unsound fest test touch down wearing eve gown sense - slide where with those as these least three sheets, I say say I say say I exactly say draped only by rhythmic page of this even ever scape, draped feebly shaped antiicollapse protracted umbrella named brella so sibly Umbrella now it's with a wallet sleep watch watch which one watched the lost 8 or 7 get treated like a loss to me, check my shoes 'till they're loose, go through nurse-imbued go-throughs ' till I hit port and remember my order Mordor Door Dorothy Alice sharps like from the grip of a gryphon holding his baby entar all penguins and that ain't to either of those magical places.
lost in treasure
lost in line
in line I here that spine
dwindling in measurements
like the loss when I found mine
livery in art.
diagonal type on paper, blue
Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 6:30 PM
comments (0)
Lost
also, "well adapted", well intact.: this fact is, "fact is" fake if like an elastic not stretched but fact is not coiled to make another, and an umbrella could open so sibly & \yes I said sibly silly listen its really a ruler I used, to will me, as these words rehearse and find me a way to rather around on an in and out of a town-o-town clown frown unsound fest test touch down wearing eve gown sense - slide where with those as these least three sheets, I say say I say say I exactly say draped only by rhythmic page of this even ever scape, draped feebly shaped antiicollapse protracted umbrella named brella so sibly Umbrella now it's with a wallet sleep watch watch which one watched the lost 8 or 7 get treated like a loss to me, check my shoes 'till they're loose, go through nurse-imbued go-throughs ' till I hit port and remember my order Mordor Door Dorothy Alice sharps like from the grip of a gryphon holding his baby entar all penguins and that ain't to either of those magical places.
lost in treasure
lost in line
in line I here that spine
dwindling in measurements
like the loss when I found mine
livery in art.
scratches
Posted  by barrett on August 15, 2013 at 6:00 PM
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broken up like thick chalk along the bottom of the wall was some "hey spray - chalk repellant", this might add a fix-note to that awoken.
token of a day by day fainted spake, worsten hearsed reversed thick cloud of milk on the bottom of a cup pay stub.
arriving privy, pretty class, pretty crass, decided id crash beside a lash, full form contort and out of order since I heard the report, mam may I say I can I reorder, the issue, "miss you" got it handed and half went out like bandit
caress capress, liquidity, foundation and such, plus touch, rupt' fuss, no no cuss
the importance of time
Posted  by barrett on August 15, 2013 at 5:45 PM
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Rampant, spreading through a forest... a fire!
Leeches crying, plains,on fire nearby!
A helicopter breezes through a thick full of smog, and cuts up a cedar,
a dead leaf curls into autumn.
five star commodities
Posted  by barrett on August 15, 2013 at 5:25 PM
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Gripped figure: you sit there
Ripped briefer: now list where
This train was running.
etc.
one:
Almost evident, in a fragile
Moment,
Never lasting past a
Hard greeting
In sequence with, and
even without spoken
Not much more than
Something fleeting.
two:
Waiting, a piece of life
wait,
a theme inside
a broken lead
depth as often red
a sheath of coursing
waiting fled.
three:
a natural drawing, seriously,
with a novice at drawing,
drawn to beam down
round at that 'in,
drowned influence,
through 'in' ruins, doing
nothing but, thick and - sound
at that but found in
flat, now based in fact
where non-forever now
lives as tact. attracted to
(tract to try) a tract attack and.... plough
  ...Spin with tick down talking cloud.
four:
To name a poor flower
Endowed with stains
That leek in pain
And don't shoot off or over
Or sink in a convenient fashion
or gain!
A flower with stains, and flowing
How these wisps sustain,
Wilt or forever hold the flower.
(Arise and wake.)
But still it is offered, and off-red is how it is met.
five:
The day may grey on Earth
But the Sun will burn out before that very day
It let's down that grey,
I feela cylinder scrape on page one,
And the rest can only simply say..
0 notes
thefreshchannel · 7 years
Note
Hey I'm newish to the td fandom so do mind me asking who Tasha is?
I guess since she seems to have deleted i can tell the story now lmao
She was basically a fake identity created to harass """the populars™""" like if u heard of jaded teenage girl tashalovesnirvana u probably already know what her personality was like, but the td fanbase was basically her origins and it is an incredibly long story to tell u every little thing shes done so a tl;dr would be tasha is basically a harasser/stalker who traumatized a lot of people for many years. like she pretended to be so many other people and was very out for blood lmao. Also she was a fake persona, along w many others, created by the creator of theconfessioncam herself cherri (who hasnt been online since new years 2015) to make everyone miserable for “kicking her out the td fandom” 
BUT IF U WANNA KNOW THE FULL STORY IT’S UNDER A CUT CAUSE BOI IS IT LONG AND TYPING IT FELT UNREAL
I already spoke abt theconfessioncam so we'll just skip to the day the person behind it was exposed. The person behind it was called cherri (isabelle was her real name but we all called her cherri bc it was in her url)
Cherri was infamous amongst the fanbase bc she shipped chrindsay and wouldn't understand why others didn't, was mostly anti sj/w, liked and defended the one character who shall not be named at the time people were calling out the issues they had w the character (all ppl calling out the issues being neurodivergent while she was neurotypical also this is discourse i am not willing to touch again so dont even think abt sending asks about this lmao), created the phrase "screw you i'm getting my duncney on" and constantly commenting abt why the fandom was toxic and shit like that. Most people would ignore her at first until after theconfessioncam turned out to be her. Many people presented proof and evidence and now she was public enemy #1 like no one liked her and one night everyone started calling her out for her shit and like she immediately blew up. On everyone. I'm p sure after that night the whole plot started.
So like. Shortly after comes a person called "holly-so-jolly" (who then became holly-smokes-molly for a short period of time in late 2015? 2016? fuck idk but her fame was very short but thats another story)Holly befriended cherri and her group of uglies so fast by always being like "wow fuck the populars"  
the populars, a term coined in by theconfessioncam's anons, referred to ppl who would argue a lot abt smthn and others would agree w over well, cherris gang. Anyways holly would almost immediately always start a fight w the populars or say some problematic shit or stan for cherri a lot. I know y'all are wondering what this has to do w tasha but trust me we'll get there lol
A few days (maybe a day or two) after holly joins the fanbase, a new hateblog (SPECIFICALLY MADE TO SEND HATE ABOUT THE POPULARS) popped up. The populars would get anons about the hate blog seeing as it was so brand new that it wouldnt show up in the tag just yet. And these confessions were CRUEL. Like wishing death/murder upon these ppl, encouraging self harm, harassing minors (literally under 16 at the time), ableist comments, racism, transphobia, homophobia like it was all there. Someone else faked a new blog agreeing w these confessions and managed to speak to the new hate blog (this was someone who was undercover and managed to expose the person running that hateblog, which ended up being holly)
Holly then changed her url to winner-challenged to try to impersonate ryan, but them claimed to be other 2 people making an april fool's joke (in february no less lmao) and then she changed her persona completely to desireesparx and tried to pass off as a new person in the fanbase. But it didnt work and she deleted as fast as she came in. Antitotaldramapopulars only lasted one day. On the same day, theconfessioncam was deleted. People suspected cherri was behind all this all to which she claimed she wasnt but we all know the truth lol.
After holly hell, tasha fiasco started. And boy was tasha fucking persistent. Like she came in early 2014, and only JUST NOW DELETED. It is 2017.
Tasha-loves-duncney was ?? I guess ur basic td blogger who just loved duncney? No one had any thoughts of her at first until she made a post about not understanding why people hated mike. So people went on to explain. And i forgot rlly what happened but like tasha started getting more aggressive. Like she would reblog "the populars'" personal posts and mock them, she even added a comment hoping for the person's house to fall on them. Someone then made the "fly away tasha" comment and she CRIED because apparently she had been bullied for having a bird nose and been told that before so it only made the phrase stick. She then made an entire post saying rape wasnt bad or some weird ugly shit like that, and even after that she still had a few ppl supporting her (mostly other anti s/jws in the fanbase and cherris old friends ((also CHERRI WAS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND OR SEEN! SHE DISAPPEARED DURING ALL THIS LOL))) And that's when we all were all over her and i'm p sure it was when all the hate blogs came back.
I'm not sure if maybe i'm confusing it for another hateblog or if there was another one before this one (or i'm getting the timeline wrong bc is2g tasha deleted and came back so many times) but a confession blog popped up called "camerainthepotty" or smthn along the lines that just seemed to post whatever random weird asks ppl would send them. Then during that night it converted to tdgossipgirls and ?? It was such a weird blog lmao like just like antitotaldramapopulars, it aimed to bully the fandom populars in burn book style ? Tabloid magazine style? Point is we all knew it was tasha lmao and at this point it started to become clear who tasha really was. Whatever hateblog it was it would post fake edited asks allegedly sent by the populars themselves which gave us great classics such as "king bee ryan outtie!"
Anyways tasha liked another populars' personal post and people told her to delete bc it was a super heavy personal post. She claimed it was for support but like she finally deleted. And we were tasha clear for a few months? Weeks? (someone even took the url i think) so she then came back as "tashasbackbitches" and boi was she mad lmao. The whole tag asked her to fly away and she took a screenshot of it and claimed bullying. She then tried to ruin ale//noah day by posting pics of dunc/ney which compared to all she's done this is the most tame thing she had done but ppl were still mad abt that anyways lol. So i think a day later she made the anti-winnerchallenged blog specifically aimed at ryan for whatever reason. She ""accidentally"" made a post for anti-winnerchallenged on tashasbackbitches but like once ppl pointed it out something even weirder happened like it sounds fucking unreal but apparently it was a fake tasha???? According to real tasha??? Who was now back as "tashalovesduncney" with no hyphens?? And going to people's inbox saying that tashasbackbitches WAS NOT HER And that she had proof on her blog bc there was a pic of her holding a piece of paper w her url written on it and also an audio post explaining what happened.
So tashasbackbitches was deleted and now we were stuck with tashalovesduncney. Which at first was??? Idk but the audio post on her blog sounded high pitched like. It didnt sound like no human voice lmao. Also the pic of her had the piece of paper edited in. So someone pointed it out and like. She immediately assumed another ""popular"", cass, had sent it. And when i tell u this tasha was DARK AND OUT FOR BLOOD, I MEAN IT LMAO. Like tasha clung on to cass ever since. She would @ them and all that shit on posts and like. This tasha was out to attack. She would constantly say awful shit abt the populars and @ them in her posts, or she would @ well known anti sj/w blogs (such as p0ppypicklesticks, swimmninda/privilege u name it) and encourage them to slay our sjw asses. Not only that but now there was an anti-deadbyshawn blog to aim hate at cass specifically.
I guess at some point someone else came in the fandom by the name of staceyd123 and was received in many different ways like1. People assuming this was tasha2. People defending her bc she was a minor3. Tasha encouraging her to befriend her
However a lot of ppl started to believe this was a different person. She did befriend tasha and a lot of the ppl in the fandom and bc she was a minor a lot of the older kids protected her from tasha and constantly warned her. Sometime between that antitdpopulars came back and more fake asks were posted, populars were being blamed on for the blog to bring attention to themselves. Not sure if it was earlier or at this exact time but i think it would tie into the next event better.
so tasha and stacey had this BIG FIGHT i guess cause stacey outed tasha for running the new anti populars blog and in this fight tasha blamed stacey for staceys parents divorcing and stacey claimed tasha clipped her toenails in a voice call and like. It was so odd at this point tasha started making fake asks about the people who supported her lmao. Then she would submit herself to blogs to send love to ppl being bullied and then those ppl would fight us and the whole night was a mess. Stacey had deleted and then tasha kept her url. I'm p sure sometime later tasha deleted too?? She came back as a sideblog the next time.  
Stacey came back a bit around the same time and ofc had ppl on her side welcoming her back. Almost immediately. Another new persona came in at the time too known as ""fucknmacine18??"" He changed the url to "thechazmeister" or whatever but he was basically a dumb white straight dude fake persona that claimed to have abandoned the south park fandom. Once in the td fandom, he would reblog a lot of the girls selfies and make comments on them also claiming to fall in love w one of the populars? Two of the populars? Idk but point is him being there was. Irrelevant for a while. He would send uncomfortable asks to stacey apparently and also told tasha to fly away/rejected her or some weird shit that happened there idk the story of that but i know tasha was trying to befriend him and flirting w him lmao.
Several hateblogs came out too, one being psychoanalyzing the populars which would reveal incredibly personal information about them (based on their personal posts) and evaluate them. It was a really fucked up blog and no one knew how on earth she managed to get that information. The other one was very tame, it was battleofthepopulars or smthn like that which consisted of the populars being in a td  like setting and each being voted off everyday and like. No one rlly paid attention to it lol. In the end when she booted off one of the populars, she ranted that it was bc she had blamed cherri for something she didn't even do. Which was suspicious seeing as tasha wasnt here around that time, meaning this person knew about cherri being exposed as theconfessioncam.
During that same time, tasha was still very much clinging onto cass. Sending them fanmails as she couldnt send asks since she was on a sideblog. Meaning she followed ppl on an unknown main blog. Cass would receive over 200 fanmails a day from tasha. Tasha even changed her blog's url to match cass'. One night tasha got tired of being ignored and blackmailed cass into talking to them, or their friends would be harassed. The main tag was full of tasha posting edited pictures of ryan on the main td tag, personal posts of another one of cass' friends with the read more code taken off. It was a horrible night. But in the end tasha exposed her main blog was staceyd123. Tasha had faked being stacey which would explain how she managed to get the personal information for her psychoanalyzations blog. She explained it was because she was someone who got kicked out of the fandom by “tortellani and the other populars” and that she finally knew what it was like living like a popular. She then proceeded to spam the tag w animal gore knowing it was a heavy trigger for one of the populars. Stacey/tasha then deleted. Never to be heard of until...oh no wait, we almost forgot our buddy chaz.
So chaz stuck around and made dumb posts and like. No one really cared for him. Until he wanted to be seen as a threat so he made a hate blog on american thanksgiving day taking the populars' descriptions on their mobile blogs and making them bad adding racist/homophobic commentary. It was here where he stole 2 urls belonging to two other populars and tried to pass off as them. Cass had remade, but chaz took their current url (hottiemcfright) as well as the tortellani url belonging to the other person who had changed urls to avoid traffic from TiA. So that night chaz. God it was a blur but he pretended to be those two people and filled the tag w a bunch of animal gore. Tumblr did jump on that and deleted him. Chaz was another of tasha's personas so, NOW we don't hear of tasha until february of 2015.
So now under the url: tashalovesnirvana, she sent popular bloggers racist slurs thinking she was on anon and then begged for them not to be posted and theyre posted for everyone to read. No one thought twice about it when the screenshots were going around but eventually ppl in the td fanbase noticed that tasha had sent those. And i mean, you can basically look this up as it spread from just the td fandom to literally all of tumblr knew about her. They made her asks into copypastas. And it got rlly funny bc at some point she didnt even know who kurt cobain was.
Anyways after this mess she deleted but she came back. Except this time tumblr updated the blocking system so it could actually work. And boy did it work well. Tasha did get 15 minutes of fame (or less) again when she came back but everyone would just block her and she would never be heard of again. She was still there reblogging posts from the ppl she hated toLet them know. She would try to get their attention but. The moment she would contact them she'd get hit w the block button. So naturally she brought back her persona "holly" as a stoner girl "holly-smokes-molly" who also had a short lived fame but then, again, people stopped caring after they had blocked her.  One of her comebacks was her coming back as a woke feminist but no one else cared about her. Tasha was an old meme, so 2 years ago. No one else gave attention to her.
In 2017 she finally deleted. Like the url isnt even hoarded so that's how u know that it's all done. It took 3 years for her to leave us alone. 3 traumatizing years. A lot of the people involved were minors too.
I know i probably messed up some parts of this or got confused w the many hateblogs she made but like. Trust me when i say that she remade so many times it's hard to keep track of all the weird shit she has done. Also i've been typing this since 8am and i still shake a bit thinking about this lol.
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monochrome-dust · 7 years
Note
9 with Beltza, Erri, and Korone if thats not too much to ask :3c
Oh boy buckle up, friends, it’s a wordy one (even without the bonus question we discussed oops):
9: Their theme
For all three of them, I’ve tried to use the stories they’re based off of to inform their themes (with Erri’s as a bit of cheat as I’ll describe below).
BELTZA
I knew from the beginning that every member of BKBD would be inspired by stories involving corvids, and for Bel, I absolutely knew he was going to be a raven faunus who would have wings, and then those wings would be taken away. Basically he was always going to be a sad raven boy.
Now I’m sure the story I used for him (Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven) has been used thousands of times for OCs, but I think it ended up fitting him really well. Specifically, I drew from the following lines: “And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor / Shall be lifted - nevermore,” which can be seen quite literally in the state of his Semblance upon joining Beacon (shadow-based, forms into hands and used mainly for hindering targets).
It’s also in line with this general feeling he has that he’s hit a really low point in his life and he thinks he’s never going to get out of it. But of course he does because I want him to, even though I do have a Bad End for him that I like to think about sometimes (read: a lot). So if I had to give him a sort of theme, it would be “The bird will fly again” because, ironies aside, dammit if no one else is on my side of things at least Bel is going to be happy.
ERRI
I call Erri’s inspiration a bit of a cheat because I’m using The Raven King, a story I have absolutely made up, as his basis. I actually wrote a version of it for a French writing assignment, so one day I’ll post a more polished and relevant iteration. But it’s basically a commentary on how its first tellers felt monarchs should rule and on the social issues they wanted to draw attention to disguised as a children’s story. Of course, over the years numerous versions of the story have sprung up (sometimes the Raven King is an actual raven, other times the king is a person, etc.), but the way Erri tells it (and I’m sure many before him), the theme is “A king will protect their people” and this I would say fits him nicely as well. 
He perhaps embodies this sometimes in a more underhanded way than most would like, but it’s clear in the measures he’s taken to protect his family that he will do whatever is necessary to make sure they aren’t hurt, and he extends this to anyone he comes to call his own. He takes them under his wing and says to the world, If you hurt them, you will deal with me. I think some might attribute this to arrogance (the audacity to think that he could threaten them), and maybe he is walking that thin line between arrogant and not. But considering his winning streak in fights and as someone who went against a Wendigo Grimm alone and did a real fuckin’ good number on it, he has a certain confidence in himself for good reason. I think he understands he isn’t all powerful, and he isn’t this way because he thinks he’s above anyone. It’s more of an understanding that, Hey, I’m actually pretty strong and I feel good about that.
Even though he doesn’t necessarily think of himself as a king, or kingly, or even noble, he takes the protection of his own so seriously and it just devastates him when he fails (see anguish at being unable to stop Bel from being poisoned, see anguish at being unable to prevent his kingdom from being taken over which I may have not yet talked about in detail in Royalty AU, see anguish at being unable to protect his followers or to stop Feu’s death in Deity AU).
I think there’s also a downside in that, because he’s already decided to take on the burden of being this “king,” he’s reluctant to express his worries and fears to certain people (especially to Beltza). And it’s not that he thinks there’s anything wrong with expressing these things, it’s just that—he thinks that by only presenting his confidence, what have you, he shows those around him that yes, he is someone they can rely on, yes, he can and will protect them, and he wants to be that for them. And this is interesting to me because when people see Erri, they see this confident, fearless man, but he actually isn’t without his own fears and insecurities. I think that it stresses him out when he doesn’t talk about them for long enough, and every now and then it really gets to him. When it does, he doesn’t necessarily handle it all that well when left to his own devices. 
This is also really interesting to me when thinking about it in the context of Erri’s relationship with Bel growing up because Erri made sure Bel knew it was okay to cry, to feel sad all while never crying (in front of Bel) himself; it was okay to be afraid of things, while never showing Bel his own fears; it was okay to ask for help, etc. And I think this actually really skewed what Beltza thought “being okay” meant and what strength was. Bel of course will realize that these things are different for everybody, but I think for a time he struggled with wishing he was more like this idealized image of Erri that he (and probably many others) had.
TL;DR: Erri is an irl rogue-ish Raven King (in the context of this universe), and he isn’t without his flaws. Let us all hope he doesn’t meet a tragic end (I say, as the one with the power to make it so he doesn’t meet a tragic end).
KORONE
For Korone, I’m using the story of Coronis, a lover of Apollo who had an affair with Ischys. Specifically, I’ve taken inspiration from the white crow Apollo tasked with guarding Coronis, who was cursed by the god in a fit of rage because the crow, having learned of her affair decided to inform Apollo first instead of gouging Ischys’s eyes out immediately. The curse was so strong that it burned the crow’s feathers black. As a note, I’ve seen some versions refer to the bird as a raven instead of crow, so I’m not quite sure how interchangeable the words for crow and raven are in this context (or if there’s a differentiation in the original language in the first place, I haven’t researched much).
In line with this whole idea of curses, her theme is probably “A curse can be overcome.” I still haven’t talked much about her backstory yet, and honestly I don’t know if/when I ever will because it makes me think of some Bad Things, but there were things that happened that resulted in her having this general idea of, I am a blemish upon the world. This additionally goes along with something I set from the beginning that every member of BKBD has gone through misfortune while at the same time are seen as bringing misfortune to others (whether that be they did bring, are bringing, or will bring). 
So far I’ve only hinted at this theme (partially because I just haven’t talked about my quiet crow very much) in her Semblance and some design choices. When she overexerts her Aura, her hair starts to turn white (and her Aura, which is typically black, might do the same, I haven’t decided). Whenever in the timeline she gets this outfit (which I want to update), her hair is completely white. And I honestly don’t have a logical explanation of why this happens right now, but I like the symbolism because it means Korone is healing, too. It means that she is overcoming this “curse” by her own power. 
BONUS for Erri from the other one: 9. Humiliating memories
I’m going to focus on one memory in particular here, because I think it captures this very interesting image of Erri, of all people, feeling humiliated really well. I feel like Erri’s the type of person who is shamed by little. He’s confident in his body, his abilities, his existence in general and he wouldn’t be adverse to showing either of them off (he doesn’t do it to be flashy, per se, but if the opportunity presents itself, he’ll certainly take it). And while he may act flippant, he conducts himself with dignity. And I think this is what humiliates him most, to have his dignity trampled on. Erri does not kneel for anyone. If he does, it is coming from a place of complete reverence and adoration. He is at their feet, at their mercy because he believes them worthy of that privilege.
So I think this is where the memory starts: He relishes in the power he was born with, in having autonomy and being able to move of his own volition. But after the Wendigo Grimm, after having his body stitched back together and taken to recover by a certain individual, he loses a lot of this independence.
At first it’s because he just cannot move—it comes with having limbs severed and having nerves and veins and muscle and bone forcibly being held together by another’s Aura. It’s excruciating (though over time, as his body adapts, it turns into more of a constant, dull soreness), but he knows, god he knows he should be dead, so the pain is something he can deal with. What he can’t is when someone constantly and purposely reminds him who saved him, the limitations now placed on him, and what that means for Erri’s abilities to accomplish his own goals.
To explain (and I may have discussed this in a previous post, I can’t recall), Erri’s fight with the Wendigo Grimm was…terrible. I posted a scar guide a bit ago, and basically where those magenta stitches are indicates the worst of his injuries. These are the injuries that would have never healed on their own, and frankly, they still aren’t healing even after he’s put back together. One day I’m going to make a proper post on how this Semblance works (maybe after I actually design the character oops), but for now I’ll say that these stitches can be taken out at the whim of the one who made them, or they’ll start to fade if Erri is too far away from the source (though, again as he adapts, he’s able to go farther and farther away without this consequence). What this means is Erri will fall apart. The pain starts first, then the bleeding, then he starts breaking into pieces—his hand falls off, an arm, his leg, etc. in whatever order. And this is what’s used against him, to get Erri to listen, I have your life in my hands and you will do what I say. And usually Erri complies because he knows that the missions given to him will, in the long run, help keep his brother safe. But this is where the disconnect comes in: Erri’s primary motivations are to keep Bel safe, while the motivations of his savior (though he hates to call them that) and the organization behind them are to, in a sense, maintain a certain balance. 
And I think this memory was the first time Erri tried to defy them, the first time he said, No, I will accomplish my own goals first. Maybe it’s something that involves Bel, maybe Erri just wants to be in someone else’s company for a bit. I haven’t fully fleshed out this scene, but I imagine Erri is about to leave whatever base of operations these two have set up. He makes one final check on his knives, a small supply of Dust, and is halfway to the door when a voice behind him asks, And where are you going? 
The figure is long and ghostly (certainly taller than Erri), voice not necessarily quiet, but with a soft quality and a lilt suggesting either amusement or thinly veiled annoyance. Erri knows what could happen here, but he doesn’t care. He’s very, very tired of following orders right now. And so he says, tacitly, Out. He knows immediately this is the wrong answer but hell, he’s in the mood to fight and he wants to know how far this bastard will go.
That’s not an explanation, Erri. They say it with a smile, one that’s curved and unsettling. It’s not impish like Erri’s, but there’s an implied threat to it, and it’s clear that they are displeased.
You didn’t ask for one, darling. He says the term sarcastically, darling, fully aware of the strange state of cohabitation by necessity he’s found himself in.
Sit down. The smile stays, but the voice gets a little quieter, a lot sharper, to which Erri replies, Thank you, but no.
Sit.I will not.Then you will kneel.
It all happens so quickly. The pain, the bleeding, and then—then his leg is the first to go. He’s forced to one knee, with almost the entirety of his other leg dangling by threads. He braces himself with an arm, they let that arm fall as well. It jolts Erri forward, forcing him to bow his head. And the figure knows, they know that this is what Erri will hate. He will hate being so conspicuously reminded of what he can and cannot do and he will hate being reminded that, in the end, he has no power here, and that is exactly why they made him do it. 
And Erri does hate it, so much that his face burns, so much that something vengeful claws inside him. He hates having his will taken away, he hates that he can’t even attempt to fight this. He is in so much pain, but he doesn’t scream or swear. He only lifts his head as much as he can and glares up at them to say, I will remember this.
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tayegi · 8 years
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Equilibrium is blowing my mind 😮😮😮 I never expected jungkook to suddenly turn into some possessive psycho jerk 😨😨 I really hope he gets his shit together. What the flying f*ck 😱😱😱 In fact It'd be cool if Jin suddenly showed up with food and The OC leaves that chaotic relationship for food 😂😂😂😂 EVRYONE WOULD PICK FOOD OVER RELATIONSHIPS. right ? Am i the only one lol *cries*
AHHHH THANK YOU AND EVERYONE ELSE FOR THEIR LOVELY ASKS!!! IT’S GOOD TO KNOW THAT PEOPLE CAN HAVE HEALTHY, NON-PROBLEMATIC REACTIONS TO GROSS, CONTROLLING MEN! 
Anonymous said:Sorry for being late to the party lol, but I just read the new update of Equilibrium and I felt so fucking anxious and scared for the oc. I don't know how in the hell, some ppl find jungkook's actions hot when he is literally being psychotic and obsessive. Especially the part when he told her 'You'll regret it', he's basically threatening her there. It's obvious the whole relationship they have is toxic af and it only seems to be getting worse as time passes. Apart from that, have a nice day!
Anonymous said:OMG EQUILIBRIUM 11 Omg I still have goosebumps, like Jungkook was being so fucking possessive it scared the shit out of me. Even tho It was a shitty move for the oc to not attend his graduation, she still could had attended but that phone call... I don't want this to turn into some creepy murdering fanfic LOL. Ughhh Jungkook what is even going in your mind? I'll be looking forward to the next chapter! xx :)
Anonymous said:Dude, you did such a great job at writing o/c's anxiety in this chapter. I try not to be bias toward her, but it's really hard since the story us in her pov. I got seriously grossed out by JK, man. I was so uncomfortable with the whole morning ordeal. 😩 And his threat at the end?? I know it's a story, but I had my friend-instincts kick in and I just wanted to shake her and be like "PLEASE LEAVE THIS RN PLEASE" (1)
Anonymous said:(2) And I'm curious about how Jimin would react if he knew how JK was acting. He has this idea that JK is a perfect boy, but if only he knew...But, at the same time, they all have this distorted view of one another, huh? We see Jimin as Mr. Perfect cause that's how o/c sees him. I guess it goes into that whole "unreliable narrator" thing? I'm just writing what thoughts the chapter has provoked. I absolutely love how u pay attention to detail in this story!! Awesome job as usual, mane 😊🙆
Anonymous said:Jungkook needs to take a moment to realize how miserable and uncomfortable the OC is like my goodness. Things have gone waaaaaay downhill. Especially for the OC. Also Jungkook actions are just kind of creepy??? And just like so unhealthy. I know it can be really hard to get out of a relationship, and she still loves Jimin and all, but the OC needs to just get out of there.
Anonymous said:omg jk is becoming such a possessive creep like reading the last part gave me chills tbh. they all need to realize that this relationship is v toxic and dip out of it. i kind of expected this to become what it is from the beginning but you still added twists to it that caught me off guard, thanks for being a great writer lu
Anonymous said:oh man that last chapter. just really fucking scary.... i went back and reread the end of ch.10 to recap and it makes me wonder how far y/n's willing to go for what's "worth it" in exchange for her own personal well being. because fuck, what jungkook is exhibiting is extremely concerning. as always your writing is amazing! thank you for using your free time this way, i'm sorry people are being gross and rude. you don't deserve that kinda shit, lu :(
Anonymous said:I genuinely love how you describe the OC as a trapped bird, and seeing how Jungkook reacted to everything is actually causing me to fear for the OC's well-being. I just want her to exist the whole relationship and just hook up with sunshine, can do no wrong hobi instead of the possessive junglecock and the passive Jimin :/ just my thoughts. But you're an extremely talented writer and your PhD is more important than smutty fanfic, so take all the time you need
Anonymous said:Ok first of all what the hell at ppl asking u for quick updates cuz ive lived with phd students they literally have a never ending to do list and im so amazed at ur ability to find time to write unbelievable. U go girl. And 2ndly, the claustraphobia u mentioned that oc was feeling. That was so detailed and even i felt like i was in her place. And jk..uve characterized his possessiveness so well and i got so mad forgetting this was a fictional character i was ready to throw a chair
Anonymous said:eek jungkook is making the equilibrium relationship so unhealthy somebody punch him
Anonymous said:Jungkook makes me so uncomfortable and I can actually feel the claustrophobia that OC feels .-. Overall, really excited for the next parts and can't wait to reread to see if I can find more theories. Thanks for the new chapter!
Anonymous said:ch 11... HOLY FUCK SHE NEED TO GET OUT JK IS LOONEY!! you really know how to make a story really good dude. super excited for updates!! i'm really curious about jimin's thought process about all of this. you've given a really good insight on kook and oc but jimin is still a little hard for me to figure out, i assume that's coming soon? i feel for oc, i want to protect her and tell her she's stronger and smarter than all of this. she's worth more than all of this craziness!!! GIRL POWER!! lol
Anonymous said:Holy fucking shit everything is so messed up in equilibrium like !! I love it and at the same time i cry because of the way you describe the oc's feelings I SWEAR I CAN FEEL IT TOO HOW DO YOU DO THAT? I can feel everything, my heart is pounding so fast now. Im so into it and i just want her to run away from this toxic relationship and take care of herself first like i know she loves jimin to the core but she is more important my heart clenches at every exquisite word you writE THANK YOU SO MUCH
Anonymous said:The story is really great I love how original your writing is I don't even see the characters as Jm an jk Which allows me to see how disgusting they all let themselves be treated in the relationship, a lot of the times I feel like readers are blinded by the image of an idol it changes their perspective honestly even if it was just one person who was lying about loving the other it would still be just as horrible I'm really curious as to what's even going on and how you are going to continue it❤️
ahmie-cat said:I feel so sad for the oc in equilibrium. Jungkook don't own nobody! How dare he claim ownership on the oc! I will fight him any day! I'll fight for the oc's freedom rights. Lols, just kidding... But really all of the characters are so sad...
Anonymous said:Honestly in the earlier chapters i really liked Jungkook but now hes just scaring me. The way the OC reacts to all his actions is so relatable thats exaclty how I would feel in her situation. This is crazy I dont even know how this fic would end I love it so much
Anonymous said:I was the anon who recommended you watch wfkbj and I'm so glad you like it!! :) ALSO the latest chapter of equilibrium was so good oh my god;; it's just ramping up like tenfold and while I was reading it sometimes I just had to stop and take a breather bc of all the tension lol. Honestly I don't even know how the oc is dealing with jungkook rn bc his behavior would chill me to the very bone I would have to get out !!! Anyways as always thank you for updating
Anonymous said:ah goodness, it was autocorrect that changed jungkook to jongkook! maybe next time i'll just use jinglebook to refer to him instead thens ahahahah. "goodness gracious, jinglebook is hella possessive that i'm actually really scared for y/n :s"
Anonymous said:GIRL THANK YOU FOR UPDATING OMG IM SHAKING IN MY CHANKLAS JUNGKOOK IS SO DELUSIONAL AND I WISHED OC WOULDVE BEEN STRAIGHT UP WITH HIM AND LIKE IDK NOT MILK ON HIS CRAZYNESS IM JUST SO ANXIOUS TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT SORRY FOR TYPING IN CAPS
Anonymous said:So, uh. Equilibrium Jungkook is fucking terrifying....
Anonymous said:I hope the oc in equilibrium leaves the relationship. It's so unhealthy and I feel like she might develop some type of mental illness or just be very stressed and anxious if she continues the relationship.... It's just a fanfic, but man, i'd hate to be in her position... I feel like crying Lols. Is this what you intended?? Haha.... It's really good so far I'm looking forward to what happens next. I feel like there'll be a good moral to the story. *Fingers crossing.
Anonymous said:Damn wtf jungkook behavior is freaking me out 😳 "you'll regret it" like wtf crazy people say shit like that
Anonymous said:jkzldlzlldz TF IS HAPPENING I'M SO CONFUSED JK IS CRAZY WTF OMG
Anonymous said:the characters in equilibrium seem to have never been in an actual proper relationship so the fact that they seem to have lasted this long is by sheer miracle. It's also probably why their worst aspects are even more apparent like jk's obsessiveness (which btw yikes boy yikesss) they literally all need to walk far far away from each other cause they a mess but I do wonder who's gonna be the first to do it cause it's all so complicated now, sorry for rambling I just love this fic so much!!
Anonymous said:What the ever loving monkey fuck is wrong with Jungkook. See, i was okay with him being jealous of Jimin because that's normal. I was moderately okay with OC agreeing to Jungkook's terms because she wants to stay with Jimin. I AM NOT OKAY with his sociopathic tendencies and how obsessive he's become. I think he's mistaken OCs genuine kindness for romantic interest at one point. And the thing that scares me the most is how Jimin seems to have no idea what's going on right under his nose as well
Anonymous said:Bruhhhh jungkook is legit fucking scary but the story itself is amazing and complex im gonna reread it right now
Anonymous said:Equilibrium is getting really interesting!! I'm kinda worried tht ppl read sentences like "Even a domesticated pet needs a taste of freedom" in context with her just /looking/ at jimin and think 'oh how romantic' tho. In every scene between her and jk u can practically feel her discomfort and fear and his possessiveness and how he's abusing her. I would normally stop reading a fic like tht bc I don't like it when the ppl are written like that bc they are real after all but I'm super hooked (1/2)
Anonymous said:(2/2)now and I am also really curious as to if and how they all are gonna get out of that situation or if jk kills her before they can just bc she takes care of a literally puking-everywhere-bedridden jimin. I'm also curious how Jimin is gonna act towards y/n now that they're alone and if he even noticed the toxic stuff that's happening between her and jk or if he didn't even notice bc jk kept him "happy" (idk how else to put it) so yeah. Keep up the great work!! Have a nice day xx
Anonymous said:GURL YOU NEED TO RUN FAST AND YOU NEED TO RUN FAR. It sucks that Jimin doesn't like OC romantically, but he's just using you to stay with JK. But JK... that shit is gonna hit the roof soon soon and it ain't gonna be pretty @.@
Anonymous said:Hey Lu, thanks for taking the time to update again~ Regarding the story...Jungkook is incredibly terrifying, like I had to step away a few times as I read because I just want the reader to leave so badly. I wish she would just be like "peace out". Everyone should just leave this situation and say "peace out". Even though I know the feelings are so complicated between all of them, it's just such a shit show on fire :( . Well done on setting everything up though. The tension is insane!
Anonymous said:Ugh I honestly want to slap Jungkook so hard. Possessive little shit.. As always your writing is amazing. Thank you for the update.
Anonymous said:OC, JIMINS DICK ISNT WORTH AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP GTFO THAT SITUATION GIRL IM SCREAMING
Anonymous said:JEONS FUCKED IN THE HEAD. HE WAS CUTE AND ALL AT FIRST BUT THEN IDK GIRL, I FEEL SORRY FOR JIMIN AND OC. I DONT EVEN KNOW WHATS HAPPENING ALL I KNOW IS I LOVE THIS AND I CERTAINLY LOVE YOU! IS HE PSYCHOTIC THO? FEELS LIKE JEON WOULD KILL ANYONE WHO DARE TO TOUCH OC..
mirajoey said:MY GAWDD!! Jeon Jungkook has gone mad😱 i pray for oc's safety
Anonymous said:i am terrified by jungkook's actions and NOTHING in this whole damn world is going to excuse what he is saying and doing in equilibrium. WHERE IS YOONGI DITCH THEM ALL Y/N AND GO FOR YOONGI. and today, i have been going through some really misogynic shit today and it felt so freaking uncomfortable and i was so angry and kind of frightened...i do not know how y/n is able to act like a normal person with jungkook around who is being very possessive and psycho-like
Anonymous said:When I first saw you updated Equilibrium I almost yelled "IMMA BUST MY LEFT NUT" (I was really excited lol) and now I'm lying here in a puddle of emotion really scared for the OC lol. I adore your writing so much, thank you for writing these xx
Anonymous said:JEON YOU CREEP. Man this is all such a disaster BUT I LOVE TO WATCH THE DRAMA UNFOLD. Anyways it was a great chapter and I am so e x c i t e for the next part to start. You da best 😆
Anonymous said:This is what your writing does to people, this is literally the only time I've ever dislike Jungkook that much in a fic. I wanted the OC and Jungkook together, but now I really thing all 3 should go their separate ways. Jungkook's possessiveness is getting too much, it's too obsessive. I feel sorry for her, but at the same time her own fault as well. As for Jimin who knows he may not be as oblivious as we think ?! He is using the OC to get with Jungkook in the first place.
Anonymous said:Equilibrium OC should just pack her fckin' bags there is no happy way out of this one
Anonymous said:(1/3) Right before I read this I watched this British PSA music video about abusive relationships, where a pregnant woman was choked to death by her boyfriend as she was trying to leave him and I feel like these people who romanticize these types of relationships forgot that this actually happens IRL. This happens to real women and men and some of them don't make it out alive. And when they try to defend it by saying "it's just a story, it's not real" it's very real for some people.
Anonymous said:(2/3) And the fact that the OC is having trouble sleeping and feeling this anxiety. And the that Jungkook didn't fell any sympathy/empathy for Jimin while he was ill, it just doesn't sit well with me. And the OC isn't innocent either. So afraid to shatter what's left of the already crumbling illusion she's built up. The need to keep the fantasy of this relationship with Jimin that I'm not sure existed outside of her mind. I really do enjoy this story and how you portray the characters.
Anonymous said:(3/3) The isolated relationships between the three of them is very realistic. I've seen some of my close friends go through similar situations. And it's hard to get out once you're in.Anonymous said:I cant believe anyone in their right mind is sympathizing with Jungkook in Equilibrium?! The way he is with Y/N makes me so uncomfortable, esp with his “You’re all mine” crap and being so “in love” with her when all he wants is to have her under his control even tho he thinks it’s love. Jimin too, the way he’s down to have Y/N in the relationship since JK wants her but she wants Jimin.. also I’m glad ur fanfics exist since they can give some girls a perspective on what’s NOT okay and NOT love
Anonymous said:' And if I find out you let someone else touch what's mine... you'll regret it' - I kept on reading this over and over but each time it makes me cringe more, the fact that he constantly calls her 'mine' is so fucking off, like as a kookier Stan in rl , I felt really bad for jungkook but now I find it so hard, this relationship is taking a big twist that I did not see coming and it's getting abusive real quick.
Anonymous said:(Cont last) I stood firm in my decision. On the last day that we talked, he finally understood why. It was only then he realized his mistakes, only then did he cry & apologize for everything. He tried to convince me to give him a chance but the time for that has already passed. We are officially over. I loved the guy, you know? and deep down, I know there's good in there. But I can't risk my heart and soul anymore. I'm sorry this has gone out of topic, I just needed to get it off my chest.
Anonymous said:(Cont.) When he got mad at me for one minor thing, he will accuse me of cheating and call me demeaning words. Our relationship was always on his terms. I was always the one apologizing & making an effort to make him happy. I paid for all our dates. Just wow, I'm stupid. After a fight early Feb, I got tired of it all. I broke up with him and that process took 7 fucking days in which he tried to convince that my reasoning was wrong and that he was right. My gut feeling was telling me to leave.
Anonymous said:just finished reading ch 11... yikes. like YIKES. oh my, I'm honestly very worried and scared for the oc. reading it actually made me anxious and nervous lol. that relationship is a nightmare oh sweetie no, she needs to leave asap
Anonymous said:(Cont. Part 3) I felt caged. I always had to inform where I was, who I'm with, are there guys going to be at the event I'm going to. If there were guys, he didn't want me to go. I couldn't even get a regular update from him where he was and couldn't check on his phone. As I said, I was being stupid. I tolerated all of his bullshit. When you're in an abusive relationship, you won't realize it immediately. He'll come off sweet and only wanting to protect you and your relationship.
Anonymous said:(Cont. Part 2) to the red flags he showed early in the relationship. He didn't want to me talk to any guy who wasn't a family and asked me to delete all the guys in my Facebook account. Stupid me did so because I believed him when he said that "It's not because I don't trust you, it's because I don't trust the people around you." I stayed loyal to him but he was always paranoid that I was cheating on him. When we broke up, I learned he was talking to lots of girls that's why he was so paranoid.
Anonymous said:I got curious and read Equilibrium. All I can say is whoa! The anxiety and fear that I felt was so visceral; it made me fill ill. I've recently broken up with my ex, who was like that - subtly emotionally and mentally abusive. I am fairly young, naive, and inexperienced in relationships. I had a low self-esteem. Growing up I felt that I was unattractive and no one would like me. He was the first guy to really pursue me and I guess I was so hungry for love and affection that I turned a blind eye
Anonymous said:oc's anxiety is getting worst in equal... 😞 i hope she gets out soon. i agree, SEND IN MAMA JIN! lol kook is getting crazier each chapter i'm getting scared for her well being 😟☹️😦. SHES WORTH MORE THAN THIS CRAZINESS!! 💔 side note, thank you for sticking to it, i know it's not easy. and thank you for updating. i always look forward to your work ❤
withlove-sydney said:Tbh I was worried that this story was gonna take a disturbing turn after jk revealed that he was purposely trying to keep jimin away in chpt 10 and this chapter just confirmed how toxic he is. I agree with that other person tho I'm glad that you're the one writing this because I trust that you won't try to romanticize this at all. My ex was really possessive like jk and its not cute or sexy at all. I ended up so scared of him and when I see similar things in fics it gives me chills...
btsninetyfiveline said:I just want to say thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for the relationship you're portraying in Equilibrium! It's soooooooo important to have stories that show abuse and possessiveness in an unhealthy light! I'm so tired of these "you looked at another guy for 5 seconds in the club so now I'm gonna take you home and show you who you 'belong' to" narratives. It's so important to address and educate young girls on signs of an emotionally manipulative relationship! 💕
Anonymous said:Hi Lu :) how are you? I love how you put out your stories unexpectedly, its always a pleasant surprise. Chapter 11 is so well-written (like all your work ofc).You set up the suffocating atmosphere perfectly with images and metaphors, like Oc's suffer is so real. I am really concerned about oc's mental health... in this chapter we see that she isn't in a good place and I am scared of what is yet to come. Thank you for your hard work. xo
Anonymous said:After reading chap 11, i feel so bad for the oc. Even reading about jk's possessiveness/threats makes me feel suffocated ;-; Though I'm excited for what's going to happen after he leaves for his trip hmm.... once again thank you for the update, Lu! :-) I'm really loving the pace of the story so far.
anonymouspseudonymous said:There's this anon that said "this ain't your ordinary fic where they all compromise and be happy" and i cannot agree more. Although, even if I get it that people hate JK for being cray, you have to punch Jimin as well hahaha idk man this is fucked
Anonymous said:I'm reading ch11 of equilibrium and the part where she wants to touch jimins face but jungkook has a tight grip on her wrist restricting her from doing so is so symbolic of their relationship and how she wants jimin so badly but jungkook is holding her back from him almost keeping her hostage in a way. Anyways I really enjoyed this part it gave me goosebumps so thank you for sharing your work with us even though you don't have to! You owe us nothing so I appreciate everything you give us💓💞💖💕
Anonymous said:I'm glad you don't tolerate the bullshit that jungkook isnt as bad as the protagnonist. People need to hear that that shit is toxic and manipulative. People are brainwashed into thinking it's romantic and okay. When it's absolutely not. No the protagonist isn't free of fault but she isn't being obsessively creepy.
Anonymous said:I think people tend to gloss over the fact that it IS an obsession (unhealthy and actually rather terrifying) and not actual "love" because they like the idea of someone doing anything to stay with them. But even in wanting to stay with someone, there have to be limits. You shouldn't end up losing yourself to someone if they want you as a person, not as just an object or a way to get what they want. There is a line between devotion and obsession, and people seem to ignore that all too often.
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btsxyou · 8 years
Text
With Time
He had wanted so desperately to be one of them. Not really want— because it was something so innate that it left him with not much else to do.  He had much to offer, but there was nothing else that really made sense to him besides this one thing.
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Everyday was repetitive. Namjoon didn’t see it that way. He found that it was cleansing, that it was refreshing.  He had lived a long and happy life, and it only took him this long to be able to do the thing he always wanted.  
It was something he probably felt so deep that it was almost as if his soul spoke to him, that he needed to write, that he needed to express himself in some way that many people did not have the ability to do.  And he had spent years turning his words into very beautiful things, but these words never looked as good to him anywhere as they did written down on a sheet of paper.  Black inked handwriting against the white pages of a notebook.  
It was when he turned the soft age of 74 that he wanted to settle down into a different life.  One that had become as calm as he had.  He had spent the last ten years of his life traveling anywhere and everywhere that he could manage to go freely.  There was always that part of him that longed for more, the part that was left with questions, the part that could only get a partial answer if it could get one at all. Its what prompted him then, to settle here in a small building, an apartment up above. It took an immense strength for him to do this, to realize that there were some things on this earth that he just couldn’t know, that he wouldn’t know.  His search for knowledge he learned, taking him only six decades, was something that was only precedented by himself alone.
Maybe it was a dream then.  The things that tempted him in the night to want to discover a new world. Or maybe when he had a cup of coffee at dawn as he watched the sunrise over the dew covered grasses, the birds flying to feed their young.  He didn’t need everything, and he hardly wanted anything.
He filled every wall of the first floor with books, lining them up the best they could, but not perfectly.  There was something about a book to him, about a used book in particular.  Book themselves told stories but used ones told that and more, leaving you questioning its origin and who owned it, what their days were like when they held it and read over the same words as someone else, someplace else.
There was something about a book alone that spoke volumes although it only made the sound of pages turning and maybe the crack of the spine as you open it and breathe life into the already lively pages.  Literature has been broken apart over generations and used so frequently that many classical works seem to be the basis of writing itself.  It was the type of knowledge that he craved more than the things that math or science could give him.  The type of insight, the vocabulary, the heightened sense of watching, reading, speaking, listening. The depth that it was able to give him was the best feeling he had ever experienced. It was a craving, a desire unlike any other, incomparable.
He had wanted so desperately to be one of them. Not really want— because it was something so innate that it left him with not much else to do.  He had much to offer, but there was nothing else that really made sense to him besides this one thing.
He had a little bit of everything.  He could never expect for someone to share his tastes.  But he had an affinity for old books anyways, no matter the subject or the genre.  If he felt something from it, it became his. And eventually it became a part of one the walls.  His shop was a quiet space, occasionally he listened to music, something soft and comforting, and sometimes he let things go in silence and just listened and watched the people outside his shop, walking, talking, living.
When someone would purchase a book, he would pass it into their hands and smile, wrinkles surrounding his eyes from years full of laughter.  He’s not sad anymore, he knows better.  He’s been here far too long and he’s learned enough to know that there is no time for such sadness to be allowed to control his life.  When he was young he worried so, not knowing what to think or feel about the world around him.  But oh he has grown! And you can see it, because when he hands the person the book that is no longer his but now theirs, he has this glint of happiness, of knowing. And he wishes, and genuinely hopes that they are doing well, and that they soon will learn what he knows.
It was one of his favorite moments.  The other was glancing up at people as they ran their fingers over the spines lining the shelves, whether they were looking for something in particular, or just browsing, he never really knew. He never asked the questions.  Watching them was refreshing as any, people were novels themselves.  
As much as Namjoon watched the world and its inhabitants on a daily basis, it never really occurred to him that someone else did the same.  Of course there were people watchers, but he was observant, not so much watching the person and what they did as a means to judge them, but simply observing their interaction with everyday life, with an open heart and an open mind.
There was a certain time of day where he in turn observed his store, looking around at the books, sometimes picking one to read.  Looking for insight and inspiration from the pages that he may not have seen before. In that time he also wrote, engulfing himself much more in his own world than the one he actually lived in. So his break from a concentrated look out the window gave someone else the chance to take over, for someone to watch him instead.
It happened most weekdays.  He never noticed her.  Of course he maybe saw her once or twice but not enough to spark any type of recognition. She would walk by, in the afternoon, from school to her home.  She had never been in the store, too afraid to interrupt his busy writing, the way his eyebrows furrowed as he searched for the correct word to fill in the spaces.  It was a common occurrence, sometimes he was writing, sometimes he was walking around, slowly, his back hunched ever so slightly.  She wondered if it was painful, at one time he was probably very tall.  He was still slim, and he kept his grey hair neatly cut, while a thinly framed set of glasses was perched on his nose.
He had such a mellow look about him, perfectly harmless, surrounded by books.  It wasn’t really until one day, she made the decision to go inside.  That day in particular he looked incredibly confused.  He was lost in everything, several notebooks opened up on his desk, along with a few different books.  He had at least three pens as well, and one seemed to be broken.  Nothing was quite working out.  The words wouldn’t come, they wouldn’t go, he tried so hard to write something, anything.  But none of it sounded like him at all.
When the bell on the door dinged, he looked up slowly, peering out the window in front of him like he had only just come back to life. He rarely greeted a customer, he knew it wasn’t always his place to say anything, to just let them do as they pleased.  Sometimes they greeted him, and he would respond of course.
“Hello.”
He looked to his right, to the girl standing at the counter with wide eyes and a very nervous demeanor.  He couldn’t help but to smile softly at the look on her face, why was she so afraid?
“Hello.  Can I help you find something?”
She shook her head shyly. “No, I saw you through the window— do you write a lot?”
“I write everyday.  Only today… not so much.”
“I would really like to read what you’ve written.  Do you think that you could sell me a copy of your work?”
His expression changed from the soft smile, to confusion, then back to someplace where happiness and sadness mix together.  No one has ever asked to see his work before— at least not for awhile.  No one has much cared for the type of writing he has, at least not in recent years.
She wasn’t sure either what brought her inside, other than his puzzled look, and she had always wanted to look around.  Maybe it was fate that she spoke to him, something about the way he sat alone pulled at her mind and heart in a way that drove her to curiosity.  If she could read his writing, then she could learn about him that way.  And there was the thought— a correct one at that— that no one had ever asked him personally for his own works.  They just happened to buy a book here and there.
“I would love to share with you.  I will print out what I can by the end of the week from a notebook.  You can stop by then and I will give it to you— no need to pay me.  If you want to read more after your finish that, then I can give you another.”
“Thank you, I can’t wait to read it.  I’ll come back then.”  She smiled greatly enough that it matched his own smiles radiance. However something like that would happen.  Maybe they were made up of the same piece of universe, something that drew them together so unexpectedly, and in the strangest way.
It was a great feeling that he had, once she had exited the shop and continued on her way home.  Being able to share with someone… Even he didn’t remember what was in his oldest notebooks.  He always wondered if people shared similar thoughts in their years.  Maybe e he thought about it more, he could never be sure. But all he knew now, was that this girl, so young and vulnerable to the pains of the world needed something to tell her what he wished someone told him.  Someone unknowingly well beyond their years. Thats how he thought of her.  If she even so much as bothered to ask him, something so personal, then she must know something of him that he does not know himself.  And that type of idea, that type of feeling, is the thing that he’s looked for all this time.
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Text
The Original Concept
So below I have some old RP/Story Junk from Forever ago, This was done with a close friend for my HeartCandies Concept Story about Teens with SuperPowers relocated to a military base in the artic to be trained as soilders. Below the cut is the god awful writing of mine from +3-5 years ago.
BE WARNED THIS IS SOME OLD ISH
A TIME OF INJUSTICE Part 1 A RolePlay/Story by PuppyTheKat and Jordan Schnur Bee sat with her back on the seat of the couch and her legs in the air. Her arms were tightly crossed in a stubborn fashion. Her crooked teeth were clenched and her thick eyebrows lowered in to a angry scowl as she stared at the ceiling.
Firefly ran in screaming, "The mayor is getting eaten by a giant octopus! We need to go now."Firefly got suited up and was ready to go.
Bee threw her legs over her head flipping over the couches seat. Then launched herself into the air and levitated over to firefly. YAY! She yelled I love these training ecersices. She jetted through the air to the training hall. Puppy and Justine were already there.
Firefly followed bee, and pulled a chair up to the holographic computer. Punched in some stuff and the program began. A giant octopus jumped at puppy
Puppy jumped over the arm and morphed into a cheetah and ran up the octopus's arm and struck the octopus's large head with extended claws. Bee flew up and started kicking the octopus but was quickly seized by a large suction cup.
Firefly jumped up and struct the octopus in the arm, another arm grabbed him. After a few moments with all his might he broke free and tried to help bee again and managed to let her loose.
Justine jumped up and shot several arrows and yelled clear before the arrows exploded one knocked off an arm and the other hit the head and blew puppy right into the wall stunning her momentarily.
Firefly saw the moment where we could win this. He yelled to Bee and Justine to all go for a uniform attack on his head on his mark. Next he rushed to puppy to make sure she was alright.
SilverSparks made a few strange hand symbols and suddenly acorn and Ryuu apeared and started a separate uniform attack silver sparks gave firefly a sharp glare this is my team alt get back into position. Puppy ran past him sorry dude I'd watch your back round him he's always hard on new reqruits.
Firefly grudgingly did what Silverspark said. He thought to himself, I'm not a fan of this guy. He flew to he top of a building and tried to get a good angle for his secret weapon he had been working on.
Puppy jumped forward toward the ocrapus's beak and pryed it open while partially moyphing her hands into large clawed hand paws. Shredder jumped next to her and helped her hold it open and Justine shouted CLEAR!
Firefly finally gets his secret weapon working. He pulls out a gun the size of an iPhone and aims it the octopus and, making fun of Justine says "CLEAR!!"! With a huge pop a small ray fires and turns the octopus into a frog. Firefly grins happily.
The arrow hist the frog and explodes right next to puppy and Shreddder giving them mild burn injuries and some ripped skin. Then the simulation ends. Puppy and Shredder hunch over a bit...."well I see your alternate better be thankfull that was a simulation or we would have been down for the count." Shredder said glaring at firefly..... Silversparks charged at him and crushed his weapon after throwing it to the ground..."YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ALL OF US IF THIS WASN"T A SIMULATION!" He then turned to puppy "KEEP YOUR SIDEKICK UNDERCONTROL FREAK!" Puppy lunged at him then shredder held her back..."It's not that bad." he said. Just then the overcom sounded .. LEVEL FIVE FAILED
"Well I guess I screwed up bad huh" Firefly says to puppy. "I really thought it was a good idea at the time. Silverspark could have been a little nicer, I'm not sure I like that guy very much. Anyway, what's next on the schedule puppy? "
Puppy looked to SilverSparks and gave him a nasty gaze and pulled back her lips revealing her canines...."Can it Freak....Meeting in the module room in five minutes...I'd be there if I was you.. Ya dont want to end up in you know were again..." Puppy snorted... and he walked away. Dont let him give you any trouble kay?...Sorry bout the side kick line he knows were partners...we should really work on that." She said popping her knuckles.
It's cool. I'm going to go finish my Rocket. Screw the meeting. Once I get some respect maybe then I'll go.
Puppy gave a toothy grin and chuckled"Well after that simulation I probably shouldn't listen to you for a while but ticking off Silver sounds pretty fun right about now...Besides its not like they can send you to solitary confinment for blowing off a meeting..right?!?" FireFly turned his head and twerked his head to the side..."You were sent to solitary!!!!" Puppy jumped recalling what she said..."Ummmmmmmm Nooooo......ish".
Firefly decided he could fix his Rocket later and that it would be more fun to go fly in the Jets he finished last week. He called to Justine and asked her to come too. Once they got to the Hanger he set the Jets to Dogfight Training mode and jumped in. Said good luck and shooted out of the hanger bay doors.
Puppy jumped up and shifted into an HummingBird and flew alongside FireFly. Some Time had passed before Suddenly she said in a tiny highpitched voice."Wow look over there!" She gestured to the horizion where blood red smoke stretched across the sky she looked back..They could no longer see the B-4 Center...."We've never gone this far north we already passed the Concaves and the border mark....were in enemy lines...." She thought about it for a second then stopped...we'd better leave a marker...or we may not find our way back..."
Firefly didn't notice we were behind enemy lines, as he was having so much fun. He took a nose dive and at the last second came up behind Puppy, locked on and fired. A popup on puppys screen showed that she had been hit. Since this was training mode, her engine went out and she started to lose speed. Meanwhile at B-4 Acorn wondered where Puppy, Firefly and Justine were.
Puppys body shifted to her normal form before fallling out of the sky. She hit the ground and groaned before pulling herself under the cover of a fox burrow. While back at B-4 The Instructors had gathered. Spitfire hagged at The Ice Marshall..."THEY'VE BEEN GONE FOR ALMOST AN HOUR WE NEED TO SEND A PATROL!" He glanced back at her and gave her a sarcastic look..."Justine is with them they should be fine." GammaWave exchanged another glance with Canaviral ArmStrong. She looked to the others..."We've detected a signal...it appears to be an sos...from enemy lines. They may have been captured...we cannot breif the classified information until they have returned." SilverSparks laughed "She really did it this time I can't wait to see the punishme..." He was cut off by the Canaviral "As you know justine is with them...She is your TEAMMATE...."SilverSparks cringed at the word.....and The Canaviral continued."And since you are the leader of the team That makes it a double offense against your post and puts you at fault for any damages...You did know that Right?" SilverSparks gave a look of disbelief.."I HAVE TO GO AFTER THEM!!!" Spitfire chuckled "Think of it as a redo of your training excersize..she laughed again. SilverSparks felt his heart race...he could never do this alone.....could he? "If only puppy were hee... he cut the thought...If she were here there would be no problem...Ughhh he grunted before walking towards the doors then brutally slamming them behind him.
A TIME OF INJUSTICEPart 2 A RolePlay/Story by PuppyTheKat and Jordan Schnur
Firefly coudn't belive his eyes. Had something gone wrong? Why did puppy just fall out of the sky like that? He turned his jet around and started to search for puppy. It had been 10 minutes and he still coudn't find her. Had she been captured? He sent out an SOS, he knew he was going to be in trouble, but was very worried about Puppy. Justine also looking for her, with no better luck than Firefly.
Puppy looked up from the den...she was to weak to Shapeshift from her humming bird form and slowly drooped into sleep. SilverSparks plowed through the snow following their tracks while staring at the ground.."they stopped"...he felt the snow...it was covered in burn marks.. they must have used a flying device..He ran back to the base and geared up in the small helicopter often used for training missions. Acorn tagged along in the two seater. They had quickly covered the teritory when acorn said "What if they passed the border?!?"
Firefly saw something on the radar, he knew who it was. He put his pride aside, and set the course for the ship. He called Justine to do the same.
SilverSparks hovered the heli-copter next to them and rolled down the window where is Puppy? he scolwled
"I don't know. I've been looking for her for over an hour" Firefly said in reply.
SilverSparks said with comtempt in his voice." We have to go back...one team mate lost is better than the whole team we need to ask the councils advice on the matter....
"No!" Firefly said with anger. "She's lost out here, and I'm going to find her with or without you. Justine you in?" Justine replyed, "Let's do it!"
SilverSparks gave a sharp glare at Justine before giving her a raised eyebrow" You know the rules on this in section 2-b." Justine lowered her head...."You also know the punishment..." He continued she slowly joined SilverSparks "I can't abandon my post leader or the rule book....Sorry puppy..I just cant." Acorn looked away and sighed. SilverSparks gave firefly a glare..."Its been ordered by the instructors for us to come back now." He looked down at his wrist watch..."You have no choice."
"I will not do it!" Firefly ran full speed to his jet, and put SilverSparks ship into a ForceField. He got into the Jet and programed an automatic search grid, and began.
SilverSparks Gave a nasty glare "So thats how its gonna be!...Hold on tight!" he said and phased through the force feild. He quickly jumped out of the craft and onto Fireflys back he reached inside of FireFlys Throat and put the perfect amount of pressure on his wind pipe to knock him out. He loaded him into the ship and headed for the base. When they Got Back He quickly placed FireFly in solitary confinment to avoid him hurting the team or himself.."He sounded over the intercom..."Dont worry I can't even get out of there it is only activated by a secret phrase that the instructors know....And You cant control your robots in there either."
Firefly stood screaming for days, or what seemed liked days. Just wanting to go out and find puppy. He kepts replaying the last moments in his head, over and over and over.
Puppy woke up in a a small dark area hazilly....She looked up and there was an armoured gaurd standing next to her...All of a sudden Puppy started having uncontrollable spasms in her legs it threw her around inside the truck the gaurd held her down on the floor and a voice came from the cab.."Whats going on back there?" The female gaurd called back "Reaction to the sedatives one sec..." BANG!!! The driver called back " you okay?" A long pause filled the air... "Dont worry shes out for the count...I'll tie her up." They soon arrived at some snow base... And approached a man on a long cloak .."This was a dead or alive right?" The driver said. "Yes, Illusion bring the body.... he said before handing the driver his money than leaving with illusion and Puppys body draped over her back. Back at the base The ice marshall opened the door and light covered Fireflys face..."I have some bad news...you know... he sat down next to him.. that upon arival each of you were installed with a tracking device that monitors your body and health...well Puppys went out cold this morning...I thought you should be the first to know...as you were the closest to her some might say even closer than she was to shredder who originally saved her life when she arrived.... Because of this unfortunate accident your rank has been moved up to B-4 Beta until further notice I'll let you inform your team mates he said walking out.
A TIME OF INJUSTICE Part 3 A RolePlay/Story by PuppyTheKat and Jordan Schnur
After The Ice Marshall left, Firefly started to cook up a plan. He secretly called Shreder in to help him. After the thing with Justine, he wasn't sure he could trust her anymore.
Acorn followed secretly behind Shredder and they just happened to hear her spying in on them ecspessially when she heard the news..."PUPPY CAN'T BE DEAD!" she yelled tearing up.....Shredder gasped..."Acorn!!!!!!" she stumbeled upon surprise and landed in a faceplant.
Firefly ran to Acorn and put his hand over her mouth. Shhh No one is supossed to know about this. We don't belive puppy is dead. We have been tracing signals for the past few days and we think we might know where she is.
On the far side of enemy lines Illusion stood by the entrance to the cell. "So your awake." she cakled. Puppy jumped up..."Oh no...Im not the one you want!!!! I'm not who I appear! Let me out!" she yelled. An overcom sounded "Don't worry sweet heart...There's no use trying to escape....I have you!...And I dont plan on letting you go anytime soon snowshoe....." The gaurd momentarilly froze in shock at the words used......She watched the girl carefully before noticing the girl was staring at some thing ....something that wasn't there...."A psycic trick...hes playing one on her....she must think he's standing right there..she thought..." The intercoms sounded again.. "Illusion come to my chambers at once we must discuss certain arangements in the girls training....stay right there I'll be right back..." The sinister words rolled off his tounge. She jumped up this time she ran full force at the entrance before being yanked backwards again by the short chain tethered to the shock collar she wore around her neck...."I'm not the one you want!" she yelled again "Let me out I can prove it!" the gaurd slowed to a stop and looked back before sayning in a hauty voice..."Thats what they all say." She walked down the ling tunnels of the hide out they had been carved in the rock of the mountain...She carefully examined each door till she found the right one...It was verry tall carved out of deep red cherry wood she slowly opened the doors before kneeling at the entrance..."Master may I come in?" The large chair slowly turned around and a man whos face was covered by a metal mask was revealed he had a long deep purple coat and his voice was that of an old man...a strong one at that."It took you long enough! One might think you'd forgotten the way....And learned your manners...Are you feeling sick!?!" The gaurd tensed "I was feeling proud!...At my catch ...She's well rather strong hard willed and stuborn as a mule." He scowled "You mean like me....." She froze then matched his scowl with a greater one...but this one had a certain hatred in it..."Nothing like you....THAT WOULD BE AN INSULT!" He looked back at her...."So your back to normal I see." She looked at him again "They WILL come for her you know......I can tell." He turned "ehh?". "They won't abandon her.. you can tell." He turned.."DONT GO SOFT!!! Besides they will if they think she's dead...". She tilted her head "What would make them think that?"...."Well each one of them have a chip implanted on the back of their neck sends their vitals and locations back to the base...You smash it it renders going out cold...They made it to easy by flying out in the open lets just say that a tranqulizer takes out a humming bird really fast...even the extremely small ones.".....The gaurd took a step out of sight and reached for something on her back she then picked up the dart gun "So...whos keeping an eye on the prisioner?"...........Back at B-4 Shredder explained to Acorn..."We recieved an encoded message 5 minutes after she fell out of the sky.....We can't crack it!" Acorn looked at the message and gave them the most sarcastic look she could muster..."Really guys! Your not serious are you......It says; Hit with Tranq taken to Sector 7 Point 5....." The two boys looked at her in awe....."Just tell us how!?!" "Well if you werent so busy trying to find a secret code you would have realized the "code" 8-9-20_23-9-20-8_20-18-1-14-17_20-1-11-5-14_20-15_19-5-3-20-15-18-G_16-15-9-14-20E Was that code that every kid used in kindergarden along with the backwards alphabet." Shredder stopped and looked to FireFly....."So we could have had the answer days ago?" She looked at Shredder "Yes...This is why i'm your team-mate to help you."
Firefly looked away, a little upset but relived. He went to ask permission take the jet to sector 7 to go get her. He also though how weird it was she didn't contact them, but aside from the point.
The Ice Marshall looked at FireFly and repeated himself. "I refuse to let you and the others go out....This is irrisponsible even for you Shredder...I'm highly dissapointed in you FireFly... You didn't even tell the team....I'm putting the facility on lockdown until you can come to your senses!" A short alarm blared and the rest of the team converged in the control deck. "I have bad news team we have to confirm the death of your beloved team mate Puppy The Kat... What some of you may not known is that we have been taking shifts beetween search parties searching for her. We have taken measures against such a thing by giving each of you a tracking system that also monitors your vitals as you've known but what you did not know is you each had an extra tracking system that is virtually untrackable without using a one of a kind hand held system. This morning the second system registered her vitals peaking then abruptly stopping....in translation she suffered a heart attack. We will be contacting the bearu for a replacement for her rank." SilverSparks eyes narrowed as he muttered something under his breath to Justine who refused to keep eye contact with anyone. Bee could no longer take it...."SO WE JUST GIVE UP!!!! PUPPY POURED EVERYTHING INTO US!!! ANYTIME WE NEEDED HELP SHE WAS THERE! WHEN SILVERSPARKS FAILED SIMULATION 12 SHE PASSED 34!!!! THERE IS NO TEAM WITHOUT HER!!!!" Her face flustered with deep red of not only Loyalty but tenderness. The Marshall looked at her with the emotionless stare that always glazed his face. "Yes, Then that is what we shall do......Your just children, that is an honorable position that they don't respect they would kill each and every one of you if given the chance they show no hesitation or evidence of a concious....we can only train you for the trials to come and thoose who are left behind are those who were not destined to survive." Bee stopped stone cold....Her eyes gave way to emoitionlessness and her shoulders dropped her kness buckled and she fell to the floor. Her head seemed to dangle from a hinge."You could watch us get killed and do nothing?" The team was just watching them in horror. The Ice Marshall hesitated too long......They all knew the awnswer....Bee Coughed and a drop of blood spewed from her mouth. "Just because my master killed you dosen't mean you can treat me like this...."Bee looked up at him her eyes were red at the flames in the depths of hell.... Justine was mortified and without thinking jumped inbetween the two....Knives that was the feeling knives everywhere......She grabbed her face from the pain.....Bee had gone limp.... She forced out the words and revealed her one good eye...PeeKaBoooo...... Just then the Ice Marshall fell to the ground unconcious as did Justine. SilverSparks watched as Spitfire picked up the Marshall and Shredder rushed to the girls side.....Silver couldn't find anything to say nothing rude nothing judgemental nothing sarcastic......It was the second time he had been truly afraid.....He didn't even check if they were okay...he just ran....he ran and hid under the simulation desk.....
A TIME OF INJUSTICE Part 4 A RolePlay/Story by PuppyTheKat and Jordan Schnur
Firefly was mortified, he had no idea what to do... He grabbed Bee and took her to her room, laid her down and put the blanket over her. After he went and got Justine. He looked at her, and hoped she would be alright. He took her also to her room. Hopefully she will feel better. Now Firefly wasn't satisfied with Puppy died. To many questions left unanswered. Something else was going on here. He went to his room, locked the door hacked the secure files, which he had done many times before and started studying them.
The man turned at her "Why I am!....". She looked confused at him and took a step back almost bumping into the mirror. The man looked past her squinting then his eyes widened before narrowing into a devlish smile...."So your the captive!.....How, Are you a psycic?!?". She smiled slyly..."Why 'master' dont you know your assistant when you see her! After all is my name not illusion?" His grin faded..."So thats why you were acting strange....I knew there was something different...about you...So you're a shapeshifter than?" She smiled before she shifted into a wolf then back breaking the illusion and revealing herself. "Not that kind...I didn't do anything!"...He looked at her "What are you..." "Insinusating ?" She filled "I just used your trick against you. You knew that they had captured a female and she would be tied up in the back, BUT; you didn't know what she looked like...Your mind filled in the blanks you tricked everyone including yourself....I just played the part...but, how did you figure me out." He seemed to be highly confused glancing to the sides a few times before smiling..." You reached behind your neck and felt the stitches...were it was removed...You still have blood on your fingers!...And I saw tthe stitches in the mirror behind you...." She smiled "So does this make us even?" She gave a sly look and raised an eyebrow...."No not really...you see now I have to keep you as you've seen my true face....Not even Illusion has...and to think she was telling the truth!" He looed back up and Puppy was gone.... He stood up and narrowed his eyes..."Sly little brat..wont be long till she finds she can't escape...." Back at B-4 SpitFire stood behind FireFly tapping her foot .... "So this is your idea of fun huh?!?"
Ummm, yeah as Firefly quickly changed what he was doing not wanting anyone to know what he was doing. Sooo what's up SpitFire?
She gave a little snort chuckle combo...."Now i know i might seem a little 'HOT HEADED' .....and not the 'Brightest'!" She joked ".....but if you really wanna find puppy then your probably gonna need this!" She showed him a plastic ID with a thumb drive on the end... "Level one clearance....Best way to access without or with hacking....I'm not just your weapons and fighting coach but i'm the best programmer and hacker in the biz" She smiled at him. "It will just register as me on the database...so don't log on during my classes or you might get caught......" She looked at him again "Ask me anything..bout your team mates the instructors you got it....everything here has an explanation....Thats why puppy is on a higher level than Silver.....Were good buds and I think we both know that Silver can't handle the team without her..... So wuddya say truce, she extended the ID wich collapsed to a simple thumbdrive......."2 Petabytes too!"
Okay that sounds like a good idea he though to himself... Okay truce. Now look at these readings do they seem weird to you? He showed her psycic energy readings that were off the chart.
"Oh no..... Den Onde..... I know where she is!" Suddenly The feed buzzed and whirred. Pixels seemed to jump across the screen...."Were getting hacked!" FireFly jumped "WAIT!" SpitFire locked on to the feed..."This is no hacker!" A visual slowly peiced together ...... "PUPPY!" SpitFire yelled. She was running through the long looming hall of what appeared to be a midevil castle. Puppy looked horified then the sound synchronized from jibberish...."Help is anyone there! This is Puppy The Kat I'm in Sector -7 Point 15! I need help some one is pursuing me! I can't find an exit! If you find this PLEASE COME FOR ME!" SpitFire gasped.. "Oh no Illusion!"......."PUPPY WATCH OUUU..." SpitFire was cut off by a loud familiar noise..... Puppy stoped cold she suddenly started giving short uneven heavy breaths. She trembled heavily. Her eyes widened then rolled back as the front of her shirt started turning damp...She went limp and hit her hear on a stone wall and right above her eyebrow became tinged with red. Illusion walked to her limp body then kicked her in the stomach...Puppy did'nt even flinch. She remained motionless. Illusion used her heel to crush the feed from the watch and the video dissapeared.... SpitFire fell to her knees and tears streamed from her eyes ....."no....WHY?!?"......"She got shot....."
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furyofthetrinity · 5 years
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Prompt 2 Views
SPOILERS
The midlander sat on the back of the two seater bird, looking rather pointedly at her fiance with her legs crossed. “You know, Aymeric. When you asked me to come on a sightseeing tour on the territories surrounding Ishgard, I thought you meant on a date… not with half of your Temple Knights and visiting Leaders from the Alliances.” 
Aymeric gave her a shrug from his driving in front of her as the bird leapt and pounced over ledges to keep up with the group. “To be fair my dearest, I did say that others might accompany us.” Aymeric countered. Wisteria shot him daggers into his broad back. “I thought you were referring to maybe a few Temple Knights like Lucia to keep an eye on us or something…” She trailed off, staring off into the snow dusted plains of Western Coerthas, it was one of those beautifully clear rare days where the sun was high in the sky and reflected against the snow making it look like tiny diamonds dancing in the light. That was one of the many sights that Wisteria loved about this side of the Coerthas. When it wasn’t cloudy and snowing of course, which was rare. Wisteria grew up in a dry and arid place in the middle of Hydaelyn that no one really remember, she herself had actually forgotten much of it. That tended to happen with her line of work, get smacked in the head a few thousand times and you’re bound to forget a few things. They were rounding a corner that lead into the Sea of Clouds, after much of a rocky terrain shift that caused the mountain walls and floors to drop so low into the earth that they lost sight of them. Wisteria ironically had a fear of being up so high, so it was no surprise to Aymeric when he felt his intended shift and go to wrap her arms around his middle when she had originally be practically hanging off the bird looking bored. “You really think that they would insult you like that? Sending people to protect you.” Wisteria, despite her slightly anxious state scoffed at him. “That wouldn’t insult me! Even I need to be protected sometimes!” That earned her a laugh, and she couldn’t help but smile at feeling the deep rumble coming from within his chest. “Of course you do Lady Oakfall.” The rocky outcropping thats jutted up sometimes were slowing vanishing now as they banked a sharp corner and the floating islands were appearing, she could see the Vanu Vanu aetheryte in the distance, that giant floating monstrosity. The Sea of Clouds, despite causing her fear was another one of her favorite landscapes to have an aerial view of when flying through. The sheer cliffs and the floating mounds of earth where certainly a sight to behold. Along with the group of humanoid bird beings that lived here. Also that giant accursed.. Whale? She didn’t even know what to call Bismarck, so she’d described him as a giant bird whale for lack of correct terms. Then again, she never did describe primals the very best. Ifrit many thought was now a giant puppy like creature that breathed fire. Titan was a very large man wearing a skirt with a pony tail. Shiva, a giant ice breathing bitch. Susano was… a rock? She didn’t know what Susano was only that he really.. REALLY liked fighting. She had spent the last week trying to find the words to explain to Aymeric what Hades was when she fought him. Right now, Aymeric was thinking he looked like a boomerang with a lot of faces. Where Wisteria excelled in any martial prowess she decided on… she failed in words at least when it came to describing scenes. Someone had once asked her to describe what the vast plane of the Azim Steppe looked like, and to her credit, she did a decent job. Describing that giant space that she’d seen, Reunion, the Dawn Throne, Dusk Throne and the desert that jutted out for miles where the Dotharl lived. Speaking of the Dotharl, Wisteria made a mental note to herself to go back and challenge Sadu to a fight soon. Wisteria loved fighting the Xaelas, even more so Sadu. It seemed like they were the one group of people, aside from her own scions, that she could let loose against and go on fighting for hours if they weren’t stopped. If she had to pick to be any other race than her own Midlander self, she’d definitely want to be a Xaela, they were great fun. “I need to go see Sadu at some point.” She mused out loud as they flew over the floating rocks. “The Dotharl leader?” Aymeric asked, banking again a little to sharply causing the Warrior of Light to tighten her arms around him by the slightest amount. They were heading for the Hinterlands, that was another area, if not the one area that Wisteria loved the most. Other than the giant clunky machine in the center of the lake. Aymeric had given up on her trying to get her to describe it and just made her take him out to the Hinterlands to see it. “Aye, me I think she would love to hear about the First and I’ll bet she would wish she could see the Sin Eaters, only to smash them into oblivion.” She chortled, but at the same time, shuddered at the memory of having that much corrupted light sitting in her body, it had been a relief when she set it free onto that damnable Ascian. The two of them fell into a comfortable silence as they banked the last bend of the Sea of Clouds, and picked up speed, leaving the floating visage vanish back into the fog that always seemed to envelope it and before long, it was gone. They traveled through the ever beautifully covered trees of the Forelands, Wisteria detached herself from her fiance and went back to her previous position of legs thrown carelessly back over the chocobo’s abnormally large back. She stared downwards as the multicolored foliage slowly started to form into the gorgeous green lusciousness of the Hinterland and soon the Allagan ruins. “Mmm!” She breathed in the air as it passed them. “We’re going to move out here!” She declared it to her lover. “Out here?” Aymeric blanched in front of her, he’d been in conversation with Lyse the last few minutes talking about possible trade relations with Gyr Abania. 
“Of course! Think about it, we could fix up one of the houses, make it livable, and then just keep the monsters away!” “I’m… not sure that would work. I don’t believe the High Houses would be alright with me moving so far from-” He was interrupted by a loud sigh. “I was teasing Aymeric, the view is gorgeous but it's a little too dangerous, even for me.” She chided him, and he was about to respond when her linkpearl started ringing, throwing up a hand to silence him, she listened to the panicked voice to Tataru appear on the other end. “Oh oh oh- Wisteria! We need you! The Amalj'aa are trying to summon Ifrit again!” She cried. Wisteria sighed and told her that she’d be on the next teleport to the Forgotten Springs and have it taken care of in a matter of moments, she turned to Aymeric and spoke up. “Flame puppy wants to play again. I’ll see you tonight.” And without giving him the chance to respond, Wisteria gave a shrill whistle, and the sound of flapping wings came from above. She steadily stood up on the chocobo’s back, and balancing herself, vaulted backwards, trusting her mount to be below her when she landed. It was, but that never changed the fact, to see the Warrior of Light in action, was always quite the view.
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