:: 2004 18 February :: 5.54 pm

shit. {FRAMERATE} haha. haha.

myxomatosis

:: 2004 18 February :: 5.33 pm

i hate it when she does that. hyperventilates. shakes her head just so. screams without screaming. curls up in a little ball while standing up straight.

can't STAND IT little bitch can't FATHOM all overwhelmed and crap stupid stupid stupid {aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaape!omg}

YOU NEVER HAD ONE. wonderland is dead deadog is dead neverland is bullshit and we know it. shut up.

and. quit trying to bring {it} back. it's useless. you are not never have been never will be one of three three of one the end the end go away. shut up sit down and leave.

putafingertoyourlips and blow the world away. hushhhhhhhhhhhhh.

{andshelaughs. forwhatweallknow is true.}

ONEONEONEONEZERO. haha. haha. {seewhatyoumademedo}

myxomatosis

:: 2004 18 February :: 5.15 pm

...patterns in chaos. the static in a television set suddenly comes together to form a picture of a starlit cathedral, looking up at the great stained glass window, there's no light but it's like it's glowing inside. and it's. the most beautiful thing.

{remembernovemberremembernovember}

brain is racing whenever it catches the hint of it on the wind {you know what i'm talking about} and. and and and.

the only dream i've had the pleasure of remembering lately, i was a dragon / snake plisskin. i was so goddamn cool it was ridiculous. had me about three different guns, one of them shot grenades or plasma or something, a big black trench coat, sunglasses, and a scythe. i rmember the weight of the scythe on my shoulder. and firing the weapons at zombies.

but there's really no point to it is there . . .

when the wind catches and i smell it there she wakes up and she screams. screams for the mask screams for her stripes screams screams screams and she makes not a sound. because we're just. just. lost here. voices sucked away by the wind, meaning sucked away by the silence, sight sucked away by the siren call and distant glare of something a thousand, a million, uncountably more powerful, more attractive. a giant magnet. that bastard. i love it like they all do but i hate what it makes me. meaningless. worthless beyond the fact of my existence. {sour words, sour words, whisper whisper}

AND YOU NEVER GET ANYTHING DONE. {hisshiss!hisshiss!} YOU CAN'T. {whatwhatwhatwhatwhat'stheworrrrrrrrd}

can't make it good. can't make it glow. {wail, curlup}

{shake it like a poloroid picture}

putting the mask. back. fucking. on.

myxomatosis

:: 2004 14 February :: 12.41 pm

+...quiet...+
I have to run. I always have to run. Because {she whispers, the mask is off, this is her purpose, this was the reason for her birth, so so so not/long ago [and it's not purple and it's not green and it's not any color at all, I'm blind and it's all her voice]} I am not the 1. I have never been the 1. I will never be the 1. {Perhaps it's because you never tried.} {One's name made so much sense then -- it was irony. Clear, perfect, stupid irony. Or sarcasm, if you prefer.} She is soft but she is true and there is nothing for me but to listen to her {in a wooden box with the dripping of rain and the taste of it on the back of my tongue, iron as well. Not black iron. Just chains. Claustrophobia, my friend.} &I'm not even sure if this will go through now, but the point is, remember November. And why.

myxomatosis

:: 2004 5 February :: 6.09 pm

+{codebreaker}+
So that's what it is. The whatareyou/whereareyou/whyareyou. The reason for {her} voice being what it is. The reason for her being at all. She was silent and calm until this. And then she began again. Mouth running like a hose, the words don't mean shit, just that she's saying them. She attaches so much meaning to nothing. Calls it fever dreams. Calls herself a seeker of screamingdreamers. Calls herself a god. Calls neverland what it isn't, never could be {real}

And so. Perhaps it is better that I am gone. Or at least, at a remove.

+::slightchangeofsubject::+
I'm making a comic in my spare time . . . about effigy, neverland, etc. Meaningless. But so many symbols. I wish I could write like Alice. Wish I could make it drip with dreams and intensity. Alas alas. I'll be lucky if I ever get anything published. {weep}

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