I woke up sick,
This morning.
I could not recall,
For the life of me,
How long I had been
Sick.
I just knew that
I was ill,
And that there was
No cure.
I could not recall,
For the life of me,
With what I was
Sick.
But the taste of
Blood when I licked
My lips made me
Think I
Was sure.
You're the Walking Dead by Monofilament-NS, literature
Literature
You're the Walking Dead
Take it,
Blackened,
Scarred,
And covered in rot.
I know what it is that
You want,
And you can never have it.
Until I no longer draw
Breath into these lungs,
You will never take from
Me that which you so desire.
I will send you into the
Earth in pieces!
And they can search and search,
Only to come up empty handed,
Time after time,
Age after age!
And never will be found,
The missing piece that
Can bring your spirit back
To this soil!
You may be burned from the
Inside out,
But I will never be your equal
In that.
You understand no happiness,
You grasp only that which your
Feeble mind wishes to pursue.
You're alrea
Threads of the Left Behind by Monofilament-NS, literature
Literature
Threads of the Left Behind
Eat this fire,
And burn from,
The inside...
Out...
Shame your eyes,
Look on as the
Weak cry out,
Bones scraping,
Hearts breaking.
You've killed your love!
Long ago,
Taking in,
The empty lies,
And empty eyes,
Watching you,
Chew on what's
Fed to you.
Ingest and
Digest it,
And all this time,
Waiting,
In the wings of
Your hollow mind,
Sour,
Betraying this
Loosely knit...
Bind..
All of the
Torn out threads,
Tied to the rafters
Where hung from,
Are the left behind.
This is a dark valley.
With each step,
We descend further,
Down...
...Down...
...Into the madness of our physical minds.
And there,
Is a place that we
Can enjoy,
Allow the animal space
To be itself,
To breathe the fumes of
Abyss,
Allow its lungs to expand
With the joyous suffering of
Our brothers and sisters.
And to what end?
What does the greed,
The blood,
The tears,
The executions,
What do they accomplish?
The executions do not
Rid civilization of cultures
And religions that preach violence,
And preach male prestige,
While f
In the light of day,
People miss things.
They go on about their lives,
Uncaring,
Pretending to have anything at
All to do with what invades their brains.
When the machine speaks,
Everyone listens,
Willing and the unwilling.
It weaves webs,
Exploiting the tapestry of the mind,
Until all someone knows is what they
Are told is good for them.
No freedom with out state.
No state without freedom.
What is the state?
Who runs the state?
There is one party,
And it has no name,
While it has many names...
Many hands...
Many mouths...
Many eyes...
Ears...
When the machine speaks,
Listen,
So that you may know how
To force it to
When you wake up...
...in the middle of the night...
...and there is blood...
...everyhere...
...and there is a limp body on the other side of your bedroom...
...one of two things have occured.
Either,
Something has gone very wrong,
Or,
Something has gone very right.
Thoughts on Amateur Reality by Monofilament-NS, literature
Literature
Thoughts on Amateur Reality
Take the reality that you have
By the horns and run with it,
And become lost in the dullness of
The thing?
Or do you refuse to acknowledge,
Defy,
And cast off your reality,
And build your own from
Your hopes,
Your dreams,
Your aspirations?
In either case,
Goals are still required.
Also...
If you do something from
Which you derive joy,
But do not get paid,
It is a hobby,
And you are,
Therefore,
An Amateur.
If you do something that
You do not enjoy,
But are paid for it,
You are a Professional.
If you do something
From which you derive
Joy,
And you also get paid
For doing it,
You are a
Professional Amateur.
Keep t
You dare to crush
such a piece of my soul?
Stupid,
Fowl,
Child of a spirit.
Someone thought you might know better.
You can't kill this.
It won't die.
Not then.
...Not ever.
What does it say about you?
Broken,
Dying,
Laid out at the bottom of your own soul.
Decrepit as you are,
Disgusting and always out of bounds.
I can't see any way out of life that could be peaceful,
For you.
I know that you'll die screaming,
Tossing and turning about in the agony
That you bring on yourself.
How much do you shoot?
Why do you do it?
How many needles have you broken off in your arm?
I've seen you do it.
I've tried to stop you.
I've tried to help you,
But you only attack me.
Die,
Then.
Lay down and rest your
Face in the puddle of your
Own stomach.
Bleed f
I woke up sick,
This morning.
I could not recall,
For the life of me,
How long I had been
Sick.
I just knew that
I was ill,
And that there was
No cure.
I could not recall,
For the life of me,
With what I was
Sick.
But the taste of
Blood when I licked
My lips made me
Think I
Was sure.
You're the Walking Dead by Monofilament-NS, literature
Literature
You're the Walking Dead
Take it,
Blackened,
Scarred,
And covered in rot.
I know what it is that
You want,
And you can never have it.
Until I no longer draw
Breath into these lungs,
You will never take from
Me that which you so desire.
I will send you into the
Earth in pieces!
And they can search and search,
Only to come up empty handed,
Time after time,
Age after age!
And never will be found,
The missing piece that
Can bring your spirit back
To this soil!
You may be burned from the
Inside out,
But I will never be your equal
In that.
You understand no happiness,
You grasp only that which your
Feeble mind wishes to pursue.
You're alrea
Threads of the Left Behind by Monofilament-NS, literature
Literature
Threads of the Left Behind
Eat this fire,
And burn from,
The inside...
Out...
Shame your eyes,
Look on as the
Weak cry out,
Bones scraping,
Hearts breaking.
You've killed your love!
Long ago,
Taking in,
The empty lies,
And empty eyes,
Watching you,
Chew on what's
Fed to you.
Ingest and
Digest it,
And all this time,
Waiting,
In the wings of
Your hollow mind,
Sour,
Betraying this
Loosely knit...
Bind..
All of the
Torn out threads,
Tied to the rafters
Where hung from,
Are the left behind.
This is a dark valley.
With each step,
We descend further,
Down...
...Down...
...Into the madness of our physical minds.
And there,
Is a place that we
Can enjoy,
Allow the animal space
To be itself,
To breathe the fumes of
Abyss,
Allow its lungs to expand
With the joyous suffering of
Our brothers and sisters.
And to what end?
What does the greed,
The blood,
The tears,
The executions,
What do they accomplish?
The executions do not
Rid civilization of cultures
And religions that preach violence,
And preach male prestige,
While f
In the light of day,
People miss things.
They go on about their lives,
Uncaring,
Pretending to have anything at
All to do with what invades their brains.
When the machine speaks,
Everyone listens,
Willing and the unwilling.
It weaves webs,
Exploiting the tapestry of the mind,
Until all someone knows is what they
Are told is good for them.
No freedom with out state.
No state without freedom.
What is the state?
Who runs the state?
There is one party,
And it has no name,
While it has many names...
Many hands...
Many mouths...
Many eyes...
Ears...
When the machine speaks,
Listen,
So that you may know how
To force it to
When you wake up...
...in the middle of the night...
...and there is blood...
...everyhere...
...and there is a limp body on the other side of your bedroom...
...one of two things have occured.
Either,
Something has gone very wrong,
Or,
Something has gone very right.
Thoughts on Amateur Reality by Monofilament-NS, literature
Literature
Thoughts on Amateur Reality
Take the reality that you have
By the horns and run with it,
And become lost in the dullness of
The thing?
Or do you refuse to acknowledge,
Defy,
And cast off your reality,
And build your own from
Your hopes,
Your dreams,
Your aspirations?
In either case,
Goals are still required.
Also...
If you do something from
Which you derive joy,
But do not get paid,
It is a hobby,
And you are,
Therefore,
An Amateur.
If you do something that
You do not enjoy,
But are paid for it,
You are a Professional.
If you do something
From which you derive
Joy,
And you also get paid
For doing it,
You are a
Professional Amateur.
Keep t
You dare to crush
such a piece of my soul?
Stupid,
Fowl,
Child of a spirit.
Someone thought you might know better.
You can't kill this.
It won't die.
Not then.
...Not ever.
What does it say about you?
Broken,
Dying,
Laid out at the bottom of your own soul.
Decrepit as you are,
Disgusting and always out of bounds.
I can't see any way out of life that could be peaceful,
For you.
I know that you'll die screaming,
Tossing and turning about in the agony
That you bring on yourself.
How much do you shoot?
Why do you do it?
How many needles have you broken off in your arm?
I've seen you do it.
I've tried to stop you.
I've tried to help you,
But you only attack me.
Die,
Then.
Lay down and rest your
Face in the puddle of your
Own stomach.
Bleed f
Do you truly understand the effect,
the echo,
the imprint,
left by the words
I,
Love,
and you?
Strung together in a seamless beauty.
Or
forced with frayed ends?
Current Residence: Bellevue, Washington sector of the astral plane (recent) deviantWEAR sizing preference: Sizing preference?!! Favourite genre of music: Dark sh*t. Favourite photographer: I'm not sure. Favourite style of art: Manga Operating System: If it's secure and doesn't crash...that leaves out Windows. MP3 player of choice: Anything that "i" can "Touch" Shell of choice: The half kind, the kind that HEROES come in! Wallpaper of choice: One that doesn't peel! :D Skin of choice: The kind I can live in comfortably. Favourite cartoon character: Ranma Saotome is a lucky, lucky manwoman... Personal Quote: I have cloves, and I'll light one just so I can put it out in your eye...
I really do. People hold on to them for far too long. The ability to let things go and put yourself in someone else's position is a definite sign of maturity.
One of the best things you could possibly tell someone (and I don't know that I actually believe this) is that you think they're most beautiful in the morning when they first wake up and are half asleep with their hair all fucked up and with no makeup on. ^_~