We're pulling the wool over our own eyes.
And we're happier that way.

Everything and Anything goes here. I'm just dabbling it out as I come across it.

EEEE~ <3

Had what was arguably the best weekend ever~!
Details are for cretins, but it'll inspire me for weeks! Expect art! <3 <3 <3

All-Time Low

The room is spinning. The music mesmerizing. I feel drugged--I may be drugged--I am drugged--as if everything I see is through unfocused eyes and layers of swirling fog. The beat pulses through the floor and up my legs and into my soul, and it's all I can hear. Through the haze I think I recognize the song from the rasping vocals, and I think it reminds me of my childhood.

But, I don't know. Anymore, that's just it. I don't know.

The room, the rhythms, the voices and the people and the everything seems to be chanting. It reminds me of church, even though I know it shouldn't.

Regardless, I recognize the feeling of screaming hymns I'll never understand, prayers I've never been apart of.

But that doesn't matter.

This house is made of music that hypnotizes, that tranquilizes. The walls are swaying and the world is tinged purple, and even your image is twisted in my bloodshot eyes.

Your image of perfect deceit.

You look like a monster though my drug-vision. Your smile distorting with the music, your strands of hair writhing and twisting like they have minds of their own, and it's the most human-looking I've seen you in a while.

I hear my heartbeat, and it sounds like millions of nails on chalkboards, harmonizing and singing to me. It sways with my vision, the lights flashing too-bright in the total darkness. It makes my head ache, and even the floor is glowing sporadically.

Your mouth moves, but it might just be me, because right now your everything is moving, so I smile blankly.

My face hurts, like my bones are grating against the tender skin every time I move. I can’t breathe, not really, though I still inhale and exhale. Every minute of self-hate I’d ever experienced comes back to me in periods throughout the time span of a millisecond, my head pulsing as the world spins circles, and you smiled back, reaching out to touch my arm. Your fingertips like fire, and I want to scream but I can’t because the world is twisted, not just in my eyes but everywhere, and I can’t breathe, and your mouth moves again but I don’t notice, I don’t.

I smile again, and you run your fingers up my arm, I feel the blisters forming and busting and my skin peeling, but when I look down and it looks like my arm is still fish belly white and unscathed, so I guess I’m seeing things. The smile begins to ache again, and I know the skin on my face is peeling off in chunks, revealing the skeleton shell that I’ve been for months, but I know you don’t care.

Because there you are, swaying with the walls, eyes searching mine, hair lunging to it’s own accord. Your smile seems feral, but that’s okay. I know you’re looking at my wallet, full of credit cards and paper that hasn’t ever mattered to me, and I consider giving it to you so that maybe you’ll go away.

I’m happy here with you, after all.

I’m happy not having to think about the all of the cigarette smoke I’m sucking in, about how the floor is sinking, like it’s made of elastic, I don’t have to think about how there are so many people, elbow-to-elbow, laughing and dancing, and staring with their lifeless eyes, just like I am.

But, my skin is melting, and I feel too cold to be near these people and their boiling blood. My eyes are unfocused and this isn’t a high, this is a low. I’m sinking lower, and lower through the elastic floors and I’m no longer there. It’s not me there, in the floor and going into a drug-induced coma while the music plays on and the walls remain still, and no one notices, because that person is just another overdosed junkie like the rest of the party, and the rest of the nation, and the rest of the world.

The music doesn’t care. The music plays songs I’ve loved my whole life, songs I can recognize now, with no swaying walls or purple tinge, just through the fire that has enveloped me.

I can’t sing along because I’m dead, and I think that reminds me of my childhood. too.

But, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.


Dani, Dani, Danielle Dearest,
Tell me who am I,
To wish for your sweet, fickle love,
And pray for your wandering eye?

You make me happy,
So much so I cry.

Dearest, dearest, dearest Dani,
You just wont tell me why.
Not why you look at me, but you see him,
You just look back to the sky.

You make me smile,
I don't really know why.

Danielle, Danielle, Dearest Dani,
I don't want to see a guy.
I want you to be my only one,
Even though I know you'll lie.

I love being near you,
You being mine.

Dani, Dearest Danielle, Danielle,
When I'm with you, may heart just flies.
I don't care about such silly things:
That you love him more than I.

I want to be with you,
Till the day that I die.

Dearest Dani, Dearest Dani,
I love you, damn it, I love you.
Fickle boys will come and go,
But baby, please say that you know
I love you more, I love you most,
And hey, fuck it if I boast, I'm here with you
And where are they?
Leave them to rot, to rot away
I'm jealous, Sunshine,
I really am, but, hey,
If that makes you happy


This was actually a positive poem XDD

Intimacy of the Damned (Fic)

What are we doing--

Eyes meet, and a bond is made. A bond between strangers--[[are we?]]--with no second chances [just - the - future]

--h e r e ?

People are asking...wait, no: they're s c r e a m i n g--
Why? Why? Good God[dess]; .w. h. y. [?] ‘Oh, God(s)!’ - N. - {n.} - [n.] - (n.o!) We’re [not] ready (I’m) Not ready, no, what are we...

[...what are...]

[...are we...]




--But no one, nothing, holds an answer. No condolences from [/who//who///from who////who is your deity (today)] God[dess], and the prayers sing like hymns as eyes meet again--

did she s-e-e that? she f.e.l.t. that, too, [right]? [right?] did I dream it?

--and this time in the confusion, there’s a forward movement.
It’s enough--

...enough; [?]

is it enough;; [?]

it is enough;;; [.]

--to change something [anything]. Another movement, this time a footstep. The screaming--

No, God[s]! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, p.l e-a.s e ! Please, spare[‘why? why? why?’] us! Oh, Father[whataboutMother?] in heaven(heaven? no, no why) please, let us live; no, no, no; not death, oh please God(dess)...

[...what are we, is it e n o u g h , doing, is it enough; enough? enough: no, never (never(?)) enough...what.are.we.doing...]

--kept strong, but it’s effect was getting weaker--

[though upon ourselves, and ourselves a l o n e (together)].

--We were consumed entirely in the sounds of our footfalls--


--and their gentle cadence as one [both(?)] of us--s t r a n g e r s--ran--

is this real? why is this happening? [I’m] going to look at her, looking at me [die here alone{with her(?)}]

--We knew nothing. Nothing of--

[each other]

--nothing of--

[our pasts]


[our trials]

--nothing. We were just people--


--That was all--

;we needed;

--now, when there was no--.h.o.p.e.--the lonely would .;cling;. to who they could. While (I)we could--




--And we were holding each other. We were crying, and we were shaking, and we were so, so bloody s c a r e d of what we knew in our hearts was happening(what h-a-d to happen.) A moment of--

‘the house, it’s...’

‘i know’

‘no, we can‘t just...we‘re gonna...’

‘i know’

‘i’m not r.e.a.d.y...’

‘...i know’

--utter understanding above{beyond} mere explanations; the -touch- of heated, frantic flesh against flesh as we gripped each other, mourning all of the reasons we were alone--

{praising all of the coincidences we weren’t}

--sharing the unnamed intimacy of desperateness.

No one stares.

We’re not a l o n e in our last-minute living--

[Alone Otherwise]

{with her}

--but we’re special.

Because now[now? now, now we’re gonna die, now] it’s Y-o-u--

[with your stupid, short, silky hair, and your stupid too-cute glasses, and that stupid, beautiful, goofy smile you would be wearing if we weren’t going to die, and your annoying ability to make me smile and laugh and want to be who I really was. The dumb ability you would have discovered if we’d met differently]

--and M-e--

[with my fat-ass, and my retarded-looking hair, my gay-ass earring that I accidentally pierced through my “gay” ear, my extreme, paranoid nervousness, and my awful habit of falling for you with every little thing you ever did. The crappy habit I would have explored further if I could’ve held you for just a while longer]

--and the end of our worlds, by some cruel fate{.but.we.still.met.each.other.}

I’m still holding you, and I know I’ll hold you through it all; stealing your foreign kisses--

[[in a way I think I love you]]

--Because this is the love of the dying. We’re just two girls--s-t-r-a-n-g-e-r-s--just two humans--[unbeknownst to each other]--just two s o u l s: and we need to make up for all of the time we’re going to .m.i.s.s.

I don’t know your name--

{but we’ve stopped crying}

--I don’t know your past--

{but we’re still intertwined}

--I don’t know you enough yet--

{but I could’ve loved you}


Take a breath;

[What Are We]

Look around;;

[Doing Is It]

This is the Intimacy of the Damned;;;


And we’re all we have.

[I Know]

That was fun.

Aight, Dudes...

Who's played Amnesia: The Dark Descent? Q_Q
I've heard it was good, but scary like a bitch.
I, the wuss that I am, am having mixed feelings. Should I play it?