How many years old am I, if we disregard hours slept?
Would you consider yourself alive in your sleep? You are only so many steps removed from the alternative. What constitutes as an active-life age? Perhaps it does not matter. We have all lived as many days as our age shows. Then again, days is a concept, a dream we share together. Our life, is what we do. Perhaps some who sleep less, have more experience, or would their opposites, be able to use their energy in more elegant manners.

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Time goes by, hands turn wrinkled with experience. What do we see in those wrinkles? Seldom clean, as they forge they open the gates for dust, dirt, and grime to nestle their way inside and clog every crack. It goes too far to wash out completely, yet without the dirt, the wrinkles themselves would be made harder to distinguish. Through hardship, our experiences are defined.

Happy FIlthy Friday~.

Can progress stand as a function of effort and fuel? There are more variables, certainly. Though despite how much effort you might have, without fuel there is nothing. Then again, if there is an abundance of fuel, far above that of the effort, then we run into diminishing returns. One can only expend so much, and one can only consume so much.
So then it is again a balance, a tug of how much one can achieve, and the resources needed to accomplish one's goals.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

I have collaborated with some great artists to bring out another pony artpack.

Anal vore Autumn

It contains animations, over 30 illustrations, and a new story of mine that has a tie in comic by Dendollae.
Blazeblue, Augustbebel, Crazy Water, novaspark, Ladytechna and more are all involved.

Head to Derpibooru or Eka's portal for the announcement, since I cannot post links to it.

The artpack itself is on E-junkie.

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As night showers from on high, there is relief flooding through the the internal web of brawn and musculature. A sense of ending, a sense of rest, and a promise of passing. Each time it comes, whether rest be night or day, the constants are welcome. For the road on which we tred changes by each step, it gives us something to adhere to. Despite, even this promise, is not to last forever.

Happy Filthy Friday, and keep your eyes sharp~.

We have a new story today, and it is a naughty one. Beware of promiscuouse filth and lewdness.

About time I got a commission for a pony story again, has been a bit, but it was enjoyable to work on it and the process was quite smooth.

This means no poem or journey text this week.

Ahhhh, we can have one either way.

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What are you doing here? There is no new story this week, and there is summer outside.
Go out and eat some green grass.
You will thank me later.

Enjoy yourself~.

Time draws close to all, a string of events as beads on a chain, the further we draw it the more beads correlate throughout our vision, we make beads every moment, but never to see the chain we've made, or where this chain will lead.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Fortune is in high demand, though they stopped making it years ago. With only so much to go around, the one reliable way of acquisition is to pilfer from others. Some who has fortune to spare, for others it is all they have. There is a balance, equilibrium can be achieved, though this would not benefit those who carries the largest fortune.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

As easy as it flies in our grasp, it flutters forth into the abyss. Who is to say they have any grip on this world? Every moment is fleeting, every action meant for not. Time mends suffering, the only way it can.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

I rest in the shadow of a young, sprig tree. Its branches reach just past the tip of my boot. The air here is crisp, freshly brewed and vented, by the same aamaritan providing cloak from the sun. Yet all around it stand grander trees, with grander branches, soaking up sun, sighing cool air. My tree is dwarfed, in the company of the ageless, those who savour the same world, drink the same atmosphere, and yet are a distance away, greater than any journey. I may never know the experiences of a

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Two brothers quarrel to split their family asunder,
one side grows strong while the other goes under.
Together sparks fly and the tension grows high,
but neither brother bid the other goodbye.
In but one frail moment, all was lost,
the brothers left to lament the cost.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Wash your hands.

A branch knocked onto the explorer's head,
they thought nothing of it, and went on instead.
A branch knocked onto the explorer's chest,
they thought nothing of it, ill time for a rest.
A branch knocked onto the explorer's neck,
they thought nothing of it, and continued their trek.
they paid no attention to what latched onto their nape,
for while out exploring, every branch looks like a snake.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

Sweet summer sun and the taste of oranges underneath the calming winds beneath a tall tree. I can taste the citrus nectar on my lips, the brisk air, and shadows of rustling leaves. Were I close my eyes, I would be there once more. Though, there is no time to shut them, there is work to be done, and when it slips my memory, it will never exist again.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Fester, thoughts believed banished, rising foam of doubt and terror sprawling through our mind. A call of falsehood only fuels them, the more we think of them, the more life they are granted. The past is only real because we recall it, our memory dictates what remains in our reality, and what falls by the wayside. Despite being selective, there can always be the hermit thoughts, those too deep to pluck, who foament doubt and sorrow, we believed to have banished. A hole in a puzzle, is as much

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As nature iterates it divides, branches spreading ad finding their niche, burrowing through the grounds and soils of life to approach its place in the whole. Some branches fall short, and yet they still nourish the whole of the tree, allowing the others ones to reach further than they ever could hope to achieve alone. Together, whole.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

One mushroom, a foot in a cap lounging in place, defying expectation in shying away from sunlight, towards the crannies of comfortable darkness where other plants stray far from. Course, they are not flora. They feed elseway, they drain their nourishment, cleaning the underbelly of nature of the sickened, or create the cause of the sickness. So inconspicuous, so small, creatures of the dark need not impress with their volume, their size is as their preference: secluded in darkness.

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It is the second week of Twin Month 2022, and we are releasing the other half of last week's story, which fittingly contains the "conclusion" to the happy twins therein~.

There once was a crab on the beach, it polished its scale on a smooth rock.
It wondered, "how come my shell is rigid, yet the stone here's a polished block?"
The tides answered. First one wave, then another. Washing over crab and rock, a briny breeze of the ocean.

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Poison and medicine overlap. A poison, in a small dose, functions as a medicine. Whilst a medicine, in a large dose, functions as a poison. Do you see it? In a sense, a factor of whether a substance qualifies as poison or medicine, lies in its amount. It is said not to take too much of a good thing, in the same vein, a small amount of poison, need not necessarily cause harm.

Happy Twin Month, and happy Filthy Friday~.

Sleep as you would under the stars, with body bare and legs apart.
hang if you will by the worlds handlebars, away from influences that would impart.
But wake each moment,
the world's not patient,
it comes to you with judgement insistent.

Happy Filthy Friday~.