Time flows, a river by the road. Though it is never seen, to stop and turn our head towards it, interrupts its flow. We experience it only as we continue to stride, without seeing time itself, we bare witness to all it affects. With every step, time has altered the road, and woven new life into our surroundings. What is then the point of looking for time, when we'll be the closest to its majesty, every moment, of every step, of our journey.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

A human sees flowers, all in a row, they lean in and smell them, make time as they go.
A beast sees flowers, down their list, they grasp and pick them, leaving dew in mist.
Down the list goes, the judge reads them all, passes the beast a sentence, to lay down the law.
The human keeps walking, away the judge gaze, for crime is the act of beasts, abstained the human's ways.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Does a skeleton live inside each and every one of us? Or is the skeleton itself a slave to the whims of flesh? Bound by sinew to carry out the impulses of electricity shocked through canals of tissue and blood? Or were we the skeleton all along.

Aging like the rings of a tree trunk.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

Wash your hands for 30 seconds.

The continuation of last week's story arrives, and a comfy post-part transitions to further... engagements~.

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To push oneself has a negative connotation. If you required pushing, then you probably didn't want to do it, why would it have been required to exert addition force otherwise? When tasks come simply, without question or resistance, we see it as positive, handled without a worry or stress, without a push.
It follows the philosophy of the path of least resistance. However, sometimes, a mere nudge is all a river requires to stretch into a new avenue, and flow farther, faster, than ever before.

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When the thoughts within they struggles, and your mine it only buggles,
you bring forth a ladder, to peer in it farther,
but the mind's a steal, its a muggle.
So with thoughts Askew, and approach of morning dew, what is the mind to do,
but melt.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

Twas a guard who stood day all,
by the castle he was stationed on.
He kept watch from autumn to fall,
back to the cold brick wall,
and feeling, not very tall.

One day his legs would cave,
right after his back did gave.
So there he sat slumped without diction,
for his peculiar type of affliction.
Though the day went on well,
and not a soul could tell,
that the guard had lost his conviction.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

We have a story today~. The Chronicles of the royal flush continue this week with a rather reluctant contributor. Be warned of filthy content, as always~.

Times come and times go, opportunities present themselves and are grasped or ignored as they flow by. But time and opportunity wait for no one, there come other hands to snatch up what is forgotten, and other ideas to sit in the past's chair. If the time we live in slows for no one, why should we give it any other treatment?

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We have a new Vore Pony Art-pack released, check out Festive Feasting, find the link on Aryion or my other accounts.

I used to think of diamonds in the rough, those crumbs of greatness tucked away amid the grime. Searching through this proverbial grime was grand, for you knew that there was always a chance to find that one gem that mattered.

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To delve below the surface, is to desire sights unseen. I think often of the depths, what may lurk below the core of my understanding, beyond the grasp of a cursory glance, past the limits of casualty. And yet, few times do I act on this desire. Most time, I am content at the surface, for its glimmer in the sun, is so very pretty, so very calming.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Today we have a big camping trip story, Twilight, Applejack, and even Rainbow Dash enter the realm of the humanoids, where one dare leads to another, which leads to a ton of messy situations~.

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For all the planning, for all the emphasis, for all the time laid down to perfect a single moment, that moment as all others will pass. I can tell myself that it was different, I can value that one moment higher than a hundred others. And perhaps, at certain times, I should.
At other times, I will put the weight towards who those moments were spent with, rather than what I was doing.

Happy birthday to me.

Happy Filthy Friday to you~.

Whatever horrors come our way we overcome them. We have far better horrors than that, nature continues to surprise us with the terror and dread that is out there, but the human mind has reached beyond it, it is from the human mind that the term nature and horror even exist. We have defined the tools, and thus we determine what scares us.

Happy Filthy Friday~.
Might be seeing some pony content next week.

Relapse. Rejuvenating a behavior you had long since hoped would be buried in your footprints. Have you stepped back on yourself? Tread ground you have been at before, knowing there is no grace hidden in that path? Or are your steps merely betraying you, likening one mistake to another, one fall for the next? What if they represented the same events? A life is riddled with woe, and we remain as the one we always are, an mistake in the present, is the same as the mistakes of the past.

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What does it feel like to be a tool? To be not of your own mind and sense, of your own desires and ambitions, but as the extension of someone - or something - unself? This 'unself' could achieve greater things than it could accomplish by itself, and all it requires is your sacrifice, your willingness to be a tool in the unself's hand. Perhaps I should know by this point. Yet, judge not your tools preemptively, they may host more than you bargained for.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Tremble. Is it a word of deeper meaning? One can tremble in fear, though one can also tremble at the prospect of something... desired. By this alone we could say the word has many faucets. Yet, does it? Is it not fear the trembles invoke even when in the context of desire? A dread of anticipation, if it all will truly work out? Is tremble then tied, irrevocably, to fear? Perhaps. And perhaps, fear is broader than common perception paints it.

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Today we have a story about Applejack out on Sweet apple acres. With the help of a crowd of farmhooves, cider season is better than ever. A festival for the apples is held, where everypony "enjoys" themselves to the fullest~.

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It can take a moment for a body to register what is happening, a moment where the flesh lags behind the mind. Sometimes this moment is unnoticeable, and at other times it stretches on for weeks on end. And yet it is in the body where we can relate and make feelings tactile. Is this lag between mind and conscious a desired outcome? Or merely a quirk of our biology? Who would figure it out first?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Is art, without observer? Is, any work, without a beneficiary? Is there creation, without a creator?

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What wonders awaits us, none. As simple as that, for nothing waits for those walking, all that is we have now, and nothing more can be created from nothing. Withing ourselves, it is what we think that becomes a reality, how we act and how we portray ourselves is what matters for the world. If you strive to be responsible, then you will forever strive.
You are what you are, and all that matters is what you are now. For what you are now, you will be for the rest of your life.

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