Irony

I woke up inside my mind this morning.
I was alone in there and I had no control over it. I spent what felt like hours roaming around the dark depths of my head, building new scars under my feet. Then ground began to quake and the darkness around me began to flicker like a half screwed in light bulb. I bent down and pressed my fingertips against the ground to keep composure. The quakes began to cease and the dark walls of emptiness began to calm. There was a light in the corner of my eyes. I took a gander up toward the sky. There was something floating, giving a dim light that burned my eyes, merely because my eyes had adjusted to the darkness of my mind. The shining came closer. His or her feet had now touched the ground. The ground under me now began to ripple as if he had thrown a rock into a calm river. I could see past the light now. This man wore all white. White t-shirt, white ripped up jeans, white chucks. His eyes were a color I have never seen before. It wasn’t a color that I could describe. It was like he had more than one color residing in his iris. I sat on the ground, possible in awe but mostly because of my sudden fatigue. He bent over and looked straight through my eye and stabbed my brain all the way through, but I was ok. He opened his mouth and said, “YOU MUST KILL THE KING.” Now that I’m good and confused, I looked down to my shoes and chewed my fingernail in contemplation. I looked back at him, who was now closer to my face, and he shot me a smile. He kissed my cheek and I punched him in response. He stood up and asked, “WILL YOU KILL THE KING WITH ME? PLEASE…COME…” He then eerily cracked a smile up the side of his face. His smile was so wide, I thought the corners of his mouth might have met at the top of his shaggy cropped head. He let out a loud, echoing laugh, that swallowed the darkness. I stood to my feet. “Well, Okay.” It honestly didn’t take much. I figured, why not. I figured a little bit of no use. I didn’t bother ask nor think about nor guess who he might be. That might make everything a bad thing. He laughed his echoing laugh.
The atmosphere changed.
The darkness was sucked into his mouth and behind him was a backdrop of City Hall in Philadelphia. Within a blink of the eye, we were inside the pandemonium of a city in havoc and riot. Everyone around me was running, shouting, rioting, screaming, killing. I figured I wasn’t invisible even though they just ran passed me paying me no mind. I guess it was either the circumstances that I was in or the person, who was now dressed in an all white suit, with his hand on my shoulder. I was a good height; about 6’2, but he still bellowed over me with at least half a foot of height over me. He was father like. He began walking and gestured for me to follow him. He walked through the havoc as if it wasn’t going on. As if he had seen this all before, while I followed behind him gazing every which way to see the acts. There were so many buildings in flames. So many hurt officers. I followed him through the middle of city hall. There were people running from the subways, waving anarchy flags, screaming, “Anarchy Is Alive!!” We kept walking as he paid no mind to his surroundings. We arrive at the front of a very tall building. There were no broken windows, no fires, no damage done to the building as far as I could see up. It was as if it wasn’t in touch with the city around it. Walked through the glass automatic sliding doors. While I was in the doorway there was an explosion. I looked behind me and saw some radical teens looting a music store. The store was in flames when they jumped out the window on fire, smiling and laughing hysterically. Smashing guitars, drums, trumpets, anyhting. They let the fire seep into their skin. I shrugged my shoulders. He walked up to the lady at the front desk. Classic secretary. Glasses with the string attached behind the ear, a “cute” little mole/beauty mark above the lip. He gave her a smile. “GOOD AFTERNOON, LACEY.” For some reason his voice still echoed in between my ears. She looked up. “Good afternoon boss. Oh! Is he here to kill the boss?” “WHY YES HE IS.” I didn’t bother ask what he was the boss of nor who the king was that I was about to kill. I figured the less I know is the less that can be held against.
Don’t condemn me in my time of faux ignorance.
We entered the elevator and he pressed floor 69. We went up. The sounds of war were muffled. He looked at me and let out a little smile.
“ARE YOU READY TO MURDER THE KING?” He had a look of sympathy. His face was father like, at times father-like. I looked at the floor and bit my fingernail. Then, looked up at him with my thumb tip in my mouth. He put his hand on my head, as if I were a little kid or a dog. Same thing. He said
“DON’T WORRY. I WILL BRUSH UP ALL THE DIRT.” I said ”Okay”. There was nothing to think about. I think I tried to think but when I thought that I was thinking I realized that there was nothing more to think about. I thought that I thought it didn’t matter anymore.
We reached the 69th floor.
Once we stepped out the elevator, the screams of a city in terror could no longer be heard. It was a room full of office cubicles with no people. He walked me to the presidents office. It was large with large glass windows showing the wrecked, apocalyptic city. Philadelphia was in turmoil from what I saw when I gazed out the window. He tapped my shoulder and handed me a black berretta. I looked at it in the palm of my hand, then gripped it. He pointed to the large chair behind the desk and said
“THERES THE KING WAITING FOR HIS DEATH…” “Okay.” I walked over to the large leather chair and took a seat. I spun myself around a little bit. I pulled myself up to the desk and went pondering around inside his drawers. Then I looked up at him, who was standing about 7 feet away from the front of the desk. I sat back, nice and relaxed in the chair. Then I put the berretta to my temple. He looked at me and said
“IT WAS ALWAYS GREENER ON THE OTHER PESTICIDE.”
The corners of his smile rose to the top of his head till they touched each other. Till his head was engulfed with his smile full of sharp teeth and a purple vortex.
I pulled the trigger.
And then I began to think…

Wake Up With Dirty Demerits In Corner Of My Eye

Death awaits me as i regain conciousness. I open my eyes. Vision is blurry. My eyes begin to burn. As i raise my head up, the color changes from a blurry periwinkle and into a flash of light yellow. My hair is dripping back into the pool of unknown liquid that i awoke in. I hope its not the same liquid as before. I cough. Blood sprays out. I look at my blood dissolve into the water. "What the hell am i on right now?"

While staring down at the water, I run through a list of possible senarios in my head:

I was drugged by the government. Last night at the pub, the lovely lady(or so it seemed during my intoxication) that i was conversating to about Paulie Shore's plot to turn the population of Philadelphia into a hoard of newspaper eating cavemen, was actually a government agent. A male government agent dressed up, for no female on this earth could withstand the alluring scent of alcohol on my breath and my rusty, unshaven beard. They would instantly fall to their knees and beg for my children......While i went to the bathroom to spit at the image of myself in the mirror, the agent must have slipped a government drug into my drink.... one of my many drinks that i had at the bar counter. When i came back from the bathroom, happier than before, I downed the remaining four mugs of pissy smelling juices. henceforth not remembering anything after. But it probably involved the government probing my brain and the rest of my body, stealing the useful information that is secretly well hidden in the depths of my gonads.

I was caught in a brawl in the alley across the street from the Pencil Mart on Liver Street. A tussle with the armidillos from Section 9 of South Philly. They found out about me releasing my bowels on their leaders billboard. They attacked because its their only form of product advertisment since their commercial got banned of the air for making Santa Claus look like a pedophile.

I strolled into the anarchist bookstore and saw Paul Barman sitting behind the counter sitting behind the counter, sipping coffee in a "Stab Stab Stab" mug and reading a book called "The Art Of Stumbling Awkwardly". He looked up at me and gave me some dap. I then took the dap and stuck it in my pocket. I might possible need it later when i sob in the darkest corner of my home, because of the radio next door playing such blasphemous music such as Lady Clitterdahsk. I walk around the Anarchist Bookstore hoping to find some literature that was a little more....anarchy. I stumbled upon a book called "Making 3rd Grade History Teachers Upset". It instantly caught my eye and my hand raced for it. When my hand gripped the book, it was met by a bulky black, hairy-knuckled(Kah-nukk-uhled) fist. My eyes followed the hand back up the arm, to the owners face. I couldn't really see anything but eyes. His face was pitch black. It shocked me honestly. My first reaction was to shove my foot deep into his colonary system. As I cocked my foot back to project it into his(or its) rectum, he smiled at me. A very soft, innocent smile. Teeth and eyes. I stopped and then looked into his deep soft brown eyes and felt sympathy for him(or it) as if it were as sick fat bunny. Then I flicked a dread from my eye, cocked my foot back as swiftly as i could, and blasted my foot forward to his crotch. I grinned and got ready to laugh when he was to fall to the floor with a tear in his eye....... It didn't happen this way. Instead, my foot got stuck. In what, I don't know. His smile disappeared until it was just eyes again. I struggled to remove my foot from whatever it was stuck in but it just wouldn't budge. Then he looked at me and said "I like to keep my butthole in the front. BWAHAHA!"I was shocked. He grabbed my throat with great ferocity. I was ripped from his frontal anus and lifted off the ground. I had lost feeling in my foot. I cursed under my breath."Big ape, buffoon, neanderthal. Is it really ok to try to cause people pain who have done nothing to you. Pillow biter. Kitty licker."He then carried me outside. My face, by this time, had started turning blurple. He was looking around. He noticed the light shining from the statue in the pool/fountain at the middle of the city. I saw his teeth again as he formed a horrible grin. The he cocked me and his arm back and tossed me over the city, into the pool/fountain.Sylvia and Jehosophat plotted against me once again. They sent out the elderly ladies from the retirement home on Slithroat Street. the paraded through the door and started singing xxxmas caroles while i was in bed sleeping. The broke out into song and dance around my bed. I got up and walked through the bundle of ladies to my closet. I pulled out my blood stained bat and began pounding each one of them over the head and face. It didn't seem to be working. Each time i'd hit one, they'd fall and pop up with two more ladies. The were spontaneously reproducing. They began singing louder and louder. They hooked their arms around mine. My ears began to bleed. I then decided that death was more enjoyable than dealing with Sylvia and Jehosophat's bullyish. I reached under my bed and pulled out a bottle of my special liquor. I only use this liquor on special occasions. I then poured it over my head and let it drizzle down my body. I then took a match and struck it against one of the old ladies dry lips. As a chunk of her lip cracked off, i threw the lit match over my head. It land in the center of my dome and I combusted into flames. I then ran around the house one more time maniacally. Naked and on fire. I then gave The kids a disrespectful finger and jumped out the window, into the pool/fountain, still holding my disrespectful finger.


These are the only logical happenings that could cause me to wake up here...

The Dream From What I Can Remember

I had a dream that you said "I Love You" again.
But i also dreamt that i was rioting on the somewhat narrow city streets of philadelphia. The buildings were high, towering over us, to the point where no sun could be let in. Only shadows. Buildings made of red brick. Early English.
I dreamed that i went down a very narrow, compressed alley. Halfway down this all was a golden basketball court. Two brunette twins wearing only red and black were playing basketball. An asian boy around my age with a light brown hair and emo lock was sitting in one corner of the caged court, looking down, expressionless, playing with his fingers.
I dragged my bike over to the end of the cage. I looked over the edge and saw a crevice between this cage and the cage below. I threw my bike over into said crevice and noticed it was two small and beyond the next cage was too deep of a fall. Almost like a lighted abyss.
I knew i was running from something but i have no idea what. none at all. Maybe the riot? Maybe what the city was rioting for? I don't know.
The Two girls and boy came and helped me back onto the court from the crevice. The twins spoke.
"Im sunset."
"And im summer"
Interested, we began to speak. Me, Sunset, Summer, and the well tanned asian kid whose name wont return to memory.Then on the ledge by the cage sat a Opium fruit. It resembled a black tangerine with a dark blue glow. The inside shone a dark blue fluorescence. We both new what it was and agreed to partake just a little if the other one did. And we did. We peeled the skin off and took one parcle of the Opium. It was juicy and tasted like a tangerine in-between ripe and new born. I straightened out from my bent position. I felt no effect. I thought since we only took a little, we'd be fine. Then my head started to pulse and vision went black.
I awoke in my bed. My mother was just leaving the room. I blink and my brother walked in.
"What happened Ave?"
"Who knows......."
All other conversation with him was either in-audible or my head wont allow me to remember. But there was more conversation with him.When he left my room i reached under my bed to search for my skateboard my mother came in again.
"The reason you can't find your board is because you ate it Lev. The Opium, Lev."
Then i remembered. I saw myself somewhere that my brain wont allow me to remember. But i saw myself chomping away at the deck as if it were a piece of toast. Broken pieces flying everywhere as i savagely attacked the wooden board.

Rubber Leaves Marks On The Innocent

Rubber Leaves Marks On The Innocent

Shirt Says Nothing Except It All

I Desperatly Want This Shirt.





















It Says A Lot. I saw it on another site and had to show the glorious crude humor that we all love.
New shirt by Warren Ellis that I must have.
-I'm The Worst.

The Forbidden Fruit Of My Glorious Loom

Fallen from the same place where puberty made its extravagant entrance
The place where pregnancy was now an issue
Sleep upon the bridge of good times
The bridge of remebrance and reminiscing
Remembering that time
Time wet, sticky, disgusting time.
The time that you thought was gonna be better
the time the big lipped manakin laid above you as you soiled yourself mentally
As you prepared yourself for the worst senario
As you prepared to take the leap
The leap into what they call manhood
The leap into what i call the penile demise
The penile demise which change your life for the worse
It could make you or break you
I gurantee it will break you
unless you live your life off a strong backbone and stronger drugs
Stronger drugs as a replacment for what you crave
Not what you crave any more
Just because you enjoy it
You, a lilly licker from who-knows-where, enjoys
Most likely because no one wants you to enjoy it
Its forbidden fruit of the loom
Forbidden fruit that yields truth and lies
Fobidden fruit for reasons that it can drive the most sane man to run around in bright green spandex,
A bright purple cape,
a dogs penis glued to his forehead,
and chop off peoples hair and toenails with butterknives and it it in front of their faces.
But MY forbidden fruit of the loom
The fruit that lies active under mys skivvies
Under my undergarments of truth, wisdom and understanding
My forbidden fruit shall set you free
Let you know the truth
The truth that only you want to hear
It may tell others one thing but "you"...
The fruit tells "you"....
What "you" want to hear
Exactly what "you" and only "you" wanto to hear
And you'll love it
I promiss it'll fill you up with glee
and.......

The Truth
The truth from my forbidden fruit which lies active within my skivvies
will set you free
Free to feel how you want to feel with no regard
My forbidden fruit of the forbidden loom
The forbidden fuckin' loom
The Loom which only that person gets to operate
Will he operate it correctly
with precision
and keep the rules,
and law
and feelings in mind.
Thats Up to you

But Keep in mind,
My Fruit Is Pure
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
If You Want It To Be



-HSD

A Letter For An Animal Accident

Dear HorribleSexyDrunk,

Someone Today compared your everyday activities to those of the mediocre, immature Captain Underpants. They have basically belittled you to a mere crude childrens book. 20 words per page. I felt as though this is very disrespectfully to you. I see you not as a fatuous middle aged man parading around in his undergarments, but more as a political figure. A leader if you will. I took this comment to heart and found great insolence in this comment. To compare you to Captain Underpants is like comparing Ghandi to a mere pothead hippie. You don't "usually" strut around in your skivvies without good reason. There were many people making negative commens toward you and me and the rest of the followers wont stand for it. I felt that I should be the first to let you know what was being said about you in the alternate dimension. I don't agree with these brusque statments and I believe in you whole heartedly.

Sincerly,

Shucks Diketah from Notting Hill, London




Dear Lowly Diketah,

I would like to thank you earnstly for caring so much and slobbing so much. It takes a lot of breath to do what you are doing. your lungs and throat must be under a lot of stress. Thank you for putting under so much meat to make sure wrong doings are recognized. ummmmm, as for the Captain Underpants statement that was said in Notting Hill, im guessing, Its ok. Don't let bother you. I take it as a positive. He is a great role model and I think children of the new generation should look at his books as a bible for the young. Flip page action is nice. Concerning the negative comments about me, they're all true. Not "probably" true. They are true. I don't really need to know what they are saying but if its negative and adverse, then its me. If anyone were to say i were a baby hugger, then you have the right to kill them with an index card if nessecary. Maybe a sharpie. Whatever you can find at your desk. Leg of a stool. Stool meaning excrement. Kill them all with your hugs. Hugs of hatred.
I most certainly have reason for parading in my........."Skivvies". Most of the time im under the influence, the drunkard that I am. But thank you young swallower. I appreciate your consideration. I shall send you a goody bag as a reward for your well doing. And don't Digest too much.

With Much Love.........Psshht!-Hate

HorribleSexyDrunk


A Week Later,
Diketah receives the much anticipated goodie bag from HSD.
After opening the bag he decides to write a very brief message back to HSD. This is what it contained.

Dear HorribleSexyDrunk,

Thank you For the goody bag. Once I cleaned all my wounds, ripped the kittens bloody claws from my face, had them declawed and vaccinated, it turned out to be a wonderful gift. I recognized the symbolism it showed. "Never Give Up!" i thought as I peeled the last feline from my face. Just as I expected from the great Sensei Drunkwalls.
Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto

Sincerly,

Shucks Diketah