Wash your hooves, and get some candy ready~. You never know who will come visit.

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How long does a life progress without building on the foundation of another? Life primarily exists as it is fueled more life, at the very least, it is an effective system for beings of higher cognitive function. Is it noble to aspire to such heights, knowing the stepping stones one has trod upon?
And yet, all stand on the shoulders of giants.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

Thus we rise once more, stand to the sound of the becoking call of the unknown we cannot but fear and revear equally, the fuel which propells us into vast stretches of never before experienced moments. The roads trails ever forwards, and who are we to deny its lustre?

Happy new year everyone, and I wish you a Fantastic Filthy Friday~.

I move too slow for time. It will not listen, it will not yield
My feet drag behind me in the cleft of weaving moments. Time can not listen, Time cannot yield.
I shout my frustration, condemning each future or past moment with one of my present.
Time has no ears. Time has no blame.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Rainfall reaches far, stretching beyond one person, one understanding, one experience. It cannot be taken and contained, not shaped and crafted to give a whole of its event experienced through a single pair of eyes. Who is to say what pespective, time, or length a rainfall truly is? When it is all a collective of numerous opinions, of subjective experiences.

Have a Fantastic Filthy Friday, and a Wonderful Week~.

How deep does the worm burrow? Far enough to escape the light, far enough to escape the dry, far enough to be safe from the surface. Striaghtforwad, it seems. Yet why is the answer so clear, how do we know?
For the worm in the light shrivells, the word in torrid earth withers, the worm on the surface gets caught. Thus, they are no longer worms.
Thus we know, what the worm is.
Except, for those who dig far enough, those distant to our sight.

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Wash your hands for 30 seconds.

Sleep is dangerous. It is a threat to creativity and progress. We bow to it for our biology deems it so, and yet moments of grand inspiration and energy to work comes just during the small hours of the night where our body urges us to rest. Why this torment, why this torture? Why must we be besieged by the horrors of sleep?

Or. Mayhaps it is an illusion, of our own grandeur.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

Steps merge into one as we journey, one to the next, so that there is no longer any one, and the steps taken are long gone. There is just the next, for life does not slow down, and each action is in preparation to a future event.

Wishing you all a Fantastic Filthy Friday.

Trade up. A progression of profit for oneself and the craft one partakes in, experience is gained for the craft, whilst nothing visible is given.
To trade up is an exchange of good, whereby the goods you offer provides you with a benefit, as what you gain has a higher worth attached to it. Yet, two objects are merely that, the benefit is the implied, unseen force weighing down the scale.

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A rush of adrenaline gets a human being through a lot more than they would expect. Limitations broken, and new horizons located in those brief glimpses of time. To reach beyond the possible.
Of course, such acts carry a price, an overdose of the impossible sends shock waves through the material, and can leave ones strong bones brittle, and wills reduced to rubble. There is a price to reach the impossible, but how far we need to reach, lessens gradually.

Happy Clean 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 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~.

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~.

I was thinking now,
That I would write a poem,
But this is ramble.

Poeticism,
is rarely what we write here,
Potassium, yum.

Wishing you a happy Filthy Friday, and a Wholesome Weekend.

To understand something, I tend to turn towards the moments that something breaks. Breaking points teach a lot: you get a grasp of its limits, and in turn what it can do; how each parts fit together, grasping what makes it click; and it is easier to peer past the exterior, in order to observe the machinations inside.

I have learned a lot about myself, this way.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

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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