CHRiSSiE'S SLUT ( . ) ( . )

Friday, January 1st, 2010

Subject:	you're my penis fish...
Time:	10:21 pm.

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Penis. (51) Fish.

Saturday, June 14th, 2008

Time:	4:31 pm.
Music:	would you leave your life and rideeee?.

46th day( -midmay)

Cold Tea.

When my muse
comes to me I'll
stomp it out on my
fag like I let you
run freezing without
my towel on.

Penis. (0) Fish.

Subject:	do a haiku however you want to plus plus plus stuffs.
Time:	4:05 pm.
Mood:	dorky.
Music:	time to get away.

47thday?

Running. Not fast (enough)
(Naked) Where's my fucking towel.
Know what it means.

                                  Old Converge fears
                                  fags grey doom
                                  sky pours bliss

Bliss is hardly
anything overrated or understood
Even by me

                                  I wish I knew proper for-
                                                                            mat
                                    But I was never a
                                    sucker for them to begin with,

    To being with I forgot to ash and some Beyonce song is on
and I'm thinking he's here on the new bench I'm peeking and it's
Sta electro and the battery is dead but my batteries not so please
recharge me; your alias name's not working for a nano second or
any sort of seconds or minutes or months or years, it's been years,
can you believe that?
                                            Probably, and I can and I cant.

    To end with, smoke got in my eye and it wasn't pretty and my nano
didn't die there yet except I'm getting to thinking for nanoseconds...
minutes...months...years..it'll die...with the old chairs and Sopranos hype.

Penis. (0) Fish.

Subject:	do you youuuuuuuuuuuu feeeeeel like I do?
Time:	3:41 pm.

as painfully long as our song was I couldn't shut it off.

Penis. (1) Fish.

Sunday, May 21st, 2006

Subject:	god her nose is so stuffed up, can i recall
Time:	10:50 am.
Mood:	blah.
Music:	silencio of the fan. not allowed to play it, the sleepers ...

i wrote this in a dirty haze, i happen to love em, but i clutched it a little to fit my personal style, my life, the whispers come along after, slowly but surely, indeed-take it in, question it, i fucking would so...

think outside every box & then take it to a neo-psychological level
legal & brain a lick of fames
[inspiration dressed with un-nature-al painkiller's giving you a lively honour]

Penis. (0) Fish.

Sunday, May 7th, 2006

Subject:	Why I Went Crazzzed! [TO THE THIRD POWER]
Time:	1:35 pm.
Mood:	bored.
Music:	pink floyd.

Parliament freaks out. The chivalrous teen arrives to her Kingdom of the Den. Tab-ula rosa, thick German wine with patterns of spirits and numbers. What would John Locke spit out upon the masses? Context of Jumanji,Jen ga, a sweet sour balancing game. Roaring with con fluency on a wooden table and breaking stares with silence. Original sin through windows so few and spectacular. Development of my life span panning ever so sudden and slowly until clarity. It involved some growth, pure, simple...pleasure. I ran around with the spray to cure sickness. Is that not the product of a biological, cognitive, and and socioemotional takeover?

So it will be. And was and is, dadada...conceptions continuing and insinuating decay among blue flags and Scotty dogs. JJ Rou-sseau never begged to differ with my story. Economy was a task, failing thoughts among an ugly face. Stripping down to undies and dancing in the glow of a males tripped out voice saying how they are on the Phone with their mom and life is truly beautiful regardless. Obviously basic temptations flourish.

National green guinness revelations after hours, an organism's biological calling. What cognitive processes specifically went down? What parts of my brain took over? Overkill, drive, rush.

Madness and fury rushing to the home song, stretch. Robotussin albuteral bug out answered by sudden subconscious surreal death. Waving onward to seven AM and counting down to the second of the freedom, escape, conquering five five TWO until it's bled all it can. Last folding down together of my blanket, last following to Arg in a whirl of regret.

Blue behind sleek silver cooperate grey hair, sky spitting in tyrannical rain. The LIGHTING bolt crept up on us so slowly, slower than his nod toward the paternal shrine of the high ceiling. Slower than the demands of reality or any reasoning, a superego's spawn. Threadlike chromosomes giving up on her.

Sudden takeovers so ugly, dark. Gametes attracting more genetic material, not needing soul or mate. Point threethreethreethreethree repeating until complete insanity, running in circles. Disgusting heritage of light beer out of time and my Arms melted. Ancient expensive light flannels orange pink with laryngitis flavouring to set them off. Pigs squawking at me and nobody testing entrance except that bastard, attempting to be King of some fucking palace. Trust versus ugly mistrust encircling zygotes, ignoring any fertilizer.

Throwing punches and papers, attacking every other morbid leftover of society until bitter isolation. I could survive alone in a white padded cell the first time I put chemical crazies in my mouth, although I would not prefer it.

Penis. (2) Fish.

Thursday, April 28th, 2005

Time:	2:04 am.
Mood:	amused.

Penis. (2) Fish.

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