Once I thought I could overpower nature, that I could fight the tides, and bring ruin to the typhoon, that I with my own determination could bend the sea and carve the path of the moon. Though with every year, with every month, every day, my grasp falters, and nature stands as tall: the snake coils around me, choking.
But I still clutch my dagger...

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Rest for a while, and then rest some more, when you are ready, take that step out the door.
Walk around the block, and then walk one more, remember your path back to the door.
Is it the same?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Another year, another birthday, and another story on top of that. This week we have a tale of a predator who is, less than willing, but a cult of meals eager to slide down her throat~.

It is interesting, how I insist that time makes its mark on me. I look in the mirror and see nothing but what was always there, but my mind fills in the blanks if many lives and people I have been, from when I was young enough to remember. And similar, I can imagine a time, when I am old enough to forget.

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Results are often the boring part of an endeavor: they signify an end. The culmination of work, time, effort, and planning. Yet, once you arrive at the results it is over. What do you do next? Listen to the world provide you feedback? What for? So you can begin your next journey towards a result.
Another Journey.
Another Wait.
Another one.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

We bounce, between the real and the unreal, between the worlds nourished by unconcsious and those fed the impressions we decypher from the world at large. Clockworks threading towards their chime, is never heard. Every other tick, is mystery, every other tock, is waking. A blend of the natural and unreal. Yet, to a clock, all seconds chime the same.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Tens of times have we met on the road,
each time we averted our gaze,
who has eyes for those going backwards?

Wish you a Happy Filthy Friday.

Life is not a road. It is not a linear path to travel down, despite an uncountable myriad possibilities lay nestled between each edge of the path. We do not walk the road, we have been to every part of it, and yet experiencing it for the first time. We craft our own understating of reality through the lens of our ones perspective, a perspective molded by ourselves, and tinted by communion, relations, experiencing, the collective minds blotting out enough of the world that the negative space

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There are few's judgement which affects me more than my own. In the moment, that feels odd to claim. To some extent, the judgement imposed on me from others shapes the person that I am, to whatever extent I deem to listen to it. Though, that is just it, isn't it? In the end I am arbiter of my own judgement, of what I take to heart. What sticks. In addition, it is responsible for how I weigh my own shortcomings, and how long they remain, and remind. I have the greatest effect on myself, for in

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How much excitement is your time worth? If an experience brought you less excitement than it has done in the past, is it worth less to you? What if you did it with someone else? How much is their excitement, worth in terms of your time? Had you spent your resources elsewhere, and gained further satisfaction and excitement alone, was your time better spent? Each other person, surely does the same, so should each care only for their own investments?

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Long nights and cool stars, the sounds of road frogs croaking, time passes us by and through it we venture. Some steps you have cherish, the ones you enjoyed the most, for their mark on you is fleeting, and on the road even more so.
It is the memory that entertains the goodwill of those steps, even if by time the memories erode and reshape. It does not matter if the step you remember were in reality as great as you conceived, all that matters is what it means to you.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

What trouble us can easily stack up, and when you have your gaze aimed forwards, you miss the luggage which weigh you down. However, many of us know it is there, we simply tell ourselves that we can handle it.
For some weights this is true, but if we use the excuse enough, soon we pick up and carry everything, unable to leave any worries behind us.
Acknowledge your weights, and they can be lifted.

Wish you all a Fun Filthy Friday~.

An oknytt stands by the edge of your door, an ear lent to hear the building speak, it sees the lone light through the glass pane, a flicker that means ill.
An oknytt through the gaps does soar, the untended flame it seeks, once found extinguished by a slap of its winding tail, a silent sigh as all fall still.
An oknytt wanders through the rooms, observing the slumbering gathering, spent it reckons.
An oknytt, satisfied, departs to snowy looms, Wanders homewards, through starlight's beckons.

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While threading the road of life, whether in the warm or cold grey light, we will pick up luggage; ballast we carry with us, that weigh us down.
As time goes on, it grows. Guilt, anxiety, and other ailments. Carried for too long, and their scent will grow rotten. But by that point we do not notice its smell, we are used to it.
It is only when we acknowledge that we carry this luggage, that we can discard it. While the scent will linger, the journey will be lighter.

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There is a pleasure to action, a thrill and eager to achieve, doubt and uncertainty in the moment, followed by a grand elation upon its success.
Yet, I find myself treasuring, inaction. There is a luxury to allow yourself respite. Perhaps savouring an anticipation, for something waiting ahead. In those moments, where I have done nothing, and not required to do anything, have I been happy?
Or, do I cherish nothing, all the more, when there is something else, that should be done?

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What if I existed in place of one of my fore mothers? How would the sensations I feel today, translate to that of a creature in the dawn of life? Minds, senses, and out interpretation of ourselves in the whole of the world has changed dramatically again and again. What of me, as I am now, would exist back then? Perhaps, only the basics. Perhaps, some aspects only coincide tangentially to what I might have experienced. Perhaps, nothing.

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Sometimes, despite doing all I can, the result is the same. Sometimes, despite all the resistance I put up, the opposition makes it through. In those times, my thoughts stray towards capitulation. There is little you can do to resist the forces out of my control.
Or, is there?
Thinking there is nothing one can do, breeds an ill behavior within me. And I think back to what I heard long ago: The bravest are those who know the odds are impossible, and still try.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Today's story is chock full of girlfriend boyfriend teasing, and a ton of scat, toilet play, and waterspouts. So keep out, unless you deign to partake~.

Reduction comes for all, over the years, the word entropy rises to the forefront of the mind. Until one day it cannot be ignored. For some it comes faster than others. Those who have experienced it... it is their job to ease that sensations, for all that come after.

Happy Black Friday.

This week, we continue with the chronicles of the unfortunate Changeling, though this time, they are going on new ventures. Another chapter opens, and we will see what fate he shall be lead to.

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We have another story coming up this week, part in a series. Depraved debauchery going down at the Orchard over the new years it seems, in with the old, out with the new?

What is a jelly without the gel? Why, it would be Y. A lonely letter, cold and dry. Least no one is yelling at it anymore.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Years become like days, as we traverse our paths. For each steps allows us to experience, and reflect upon all previous. Our journey becomes longer, and with it, our experience of it shrinks. An hour was a day, but now it is but a minute, a gradual change constant through our existence.
This awareness begets wisdom, a spark we cherish, and pass on for the future travelers.

Happy Filthy Friday, enjoy a scillitant weekend~.