Death is sucha tricky thing to play with, but once you learn how and why you can do it as an art of life. It's not as hard as it could seem to be. You just need to know how to inhale the possibility of death and then you can get addicted and play and dance and bleed and scream until your tummy if full and your body satisfied. A poison keeps ( Read more... )

This place has a magic. It always makes you come back. Whenever you leave, the pixies still calls your name and begs you to come back. All blurry and non-sense making. It's quite beautiful, but it can be annoying too, all the little voices whispering and begging, the ones who beg ought to die sooner or later, because begging isn't the way to move, ( Read more... )

Tea parties aren't as fun as they used to be. Now all the tea tastes like water and nothing like the blood. It's not sweet and not nice anymore. Ms. Edith doesn't like it either, she finds it as sad and as ugly as I do. There is no melodies that can be heard, no signing no playing, everything seems to be left out and forgotten. There needs to be ( Read more... )

Power play is a weird game to play. It has it perks. It shines on days and makes you feel all happy and fuzzy inside. Like a kitten. Drowning in it's own blood. All screaming, giving sounds that no one can understand or hear, because there's no one to listen. All pretty and nice. It's fun to watch the life leaving and never coming back, playing ( Read more... )

Power has a tricky way to be. It suits who ever it wants and doesn't let other kids come and play nice. There's nothing nice in power. Nothing sweet and sugary, but it's hardly evil either, is it? It twists and turns and never stands still, but it doesn't get to be evil, does it? Pity, though, evil is much more pretty than everything else. Evil ( Read more... )

Everything has been happening so fast. In an eye blink things have been changing. Ms. Edith has been all confused about where and why. The birdies all are out from their cages and are trying to fly, pity though, with broken wings no one has ever been able to fly. They all are running and hiding, but no one really knows running where or hiding from ( Read more... )

It’s chilly and a little bit silly out here. There are pretty, little dollies running here and there, all being careful not to become someone else’s food. It’s funny how all the dollies plays and doesn’t understand they do. They move in the rhythm of the star sung melody. So pretty, so slow... No one knows what they have coming, no one knows what ( Read more... )

It’s all quite here. All hushed. Can you here? The silence rules all over this place. It’s here and it’s no where. Feels all lonely when there’s no noise around. The little mice don’t give a sound. I wonder if they all are dead. Like the little, pretty birdy. It died. Everything always dies around me. It crawls in its cave and dies alone. Why does ( Read more... )

There he is. My dark prince. The game’s back on table. My Spike. He’s here. Close. Can you feel him Miss Edith? He’s right here, between cookies and tea. All confused and still with the spark. It does him good. Shush. No one can know that. But it’s there. It shines and is ready to be. Pretty. I wonder what else it does. What does little spark like ( Read more... )

Slowly walking upstairs I let my fingertips slid over the railing. Mummy was downstairs talking to the lucky one. Ah, so many ways to play his games, but only one rule you need to accept. No one cares which way you go unless you cross each other paths ( Read more... )