Passion demands sacrifice. Sacrifice which makes itself known in time, investments, or devotion. They are core to passion, for passion is not static, passion exists in the moment it is paid tribute to.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

Floating in silence. There is no embrace to catch you, nor bottom to reach. Falling was lost on you long ago, the sense integrating to your thoughts, your sensations, to your routine. Perpetual. That is how your mind sees it. That is how you make your mind see it. The thing with falls. Is that there is always a bottom.

Happy Filthy Black Friday~.

Thoughts malign affect those close,
expression wry and worries rose.
Infectious is the thought of ill,
inviting by mystery and promise of thrill.
Soon one thought has turned for the worst,
and the subject in question, afflicted and cursed.

Wishing you all a Happy Filthy Friday~.

I took part in a Pony Vore art-pack, if you an find my other profiles, you can find it. Happy new year.

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There was a little circuit man,
Welded from the scraps of cards.
They built up themselves as a handy man,
Improving to escape the junkyard.

But all time spent upgrading,
oblivious to his trading,
the times which he could cherish,
for the date to which he'd perish.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

Where does everything go when there is too much of it?
Some articles of life appears easier to ignore the larger of a quantity there is. Perhaps it relates to the forest, stocked with trees and yet we rarely pay attention to particular trunks. Would then the best way to ignore something, to expose yourself to it, until it was no longer part of your conscious intake?
Perhaps that is a way addiction starts.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Keep on the lookout for a new artpack.

Sometimes, the magnitude of life becomes apparent. If I look to the horizon, everything eventually shrinks, further and further away from me, its relevance diminishes. And yet, the path to that horizon is long, far beyond my sight. All things that my mind glosses over, laid out before me.
Until, I turn around. And face another horizon.

How much, am I not seeing?

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

Will a scrape heal has it still a scab? Certainly so. The scab can shield the wounded area as it mends. And yet, scabs have a ceratin odd air to them, and many rather have it removed. Without the scab, a scrape still heals. At times exposure to the outside elements is what mends, in others the clear seclusion protects. It depends how deep the issues go.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

they sing the story

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Seeing is believing. That is what is said, right? Though that changes drastically with context. In the world as we perceive it, we trust what we can see, we all collectively believe in this interpretation. However, in belief, the object of worship is not, if ever, to be seen. Other than those who believe to have seen it.
But who sees them?

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

5 steps away, I didn't give the time of day.
4 steps away, I had nothing to say.
3 steps away, I attempted to delay.
4 steps past... I hadn't expected it would move so fast.

Happy Clean Friday~.

...like "chasm".

There once, was a creature, from the wilds,
Its apperance, it used, to beguile,
but with claws like knives, and a breath so vile,
its reception, was cheritably, quite mild.
So it found new ways of entry,
Its apperance, quite elementary,
For isn't it so, a single thought is quite strong,
and can dig deep into your memory.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

What is it like to come to terms with one's conception? That brief moment where void and existence married, the instant our lives began. What was before? A question often left by the wayside, and yet as relevant as what happens afterwards. Most conclusions draw back to the moment, where we are simply happy to be.
I am happy to be, and I will be happy to have been, for that brief instance in my future.

Happy All Flanks Day~.

Three peas in a pod laid resting,
while the morning sun laid cresting,
the pod opened a creak,
from the peas no a peep,
as the first pea tumbled through.

In their slumber, more space felt welcome,
though keeping still neither did seldom,
and so with a bump,
an impromptu jump,
and the second pea tumbled through.

The third pea had all space it'd desire,
fading off in the dream court's choir,
but without a support,
the pod would contort,
so the third pea, tumbled through.

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Darkness. We attribute it to the dangers of this world. For true, on the highway of life, if you cannot see, then how can you follow the road? How do you know who walks among you, and who can be trusted?
In light, it is made clear, but light alone blinds, it stings, and can as darkness would, cause a crash.
Then is it not favorable, that we share a blend of the two? both in life, and those around us. We can never know all of them, there is always blinding light, and gentle darkness.

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Oh to fly as the paper in the wind, carried to your destination, though said location remains unknown. A paper seldom considers its situation, but would it ever wonder where it is going? That this method of progression is not of its own accord, but drawn by outside forces? Will it wish to have the freedom in forsook in this path? At the whims of the unknown, lacking any agency to propose.

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How we look ahead affects our actions in the now. What do you see? Do you see a straight path? Do you see twists? Is your gaze aimed skywards, or dug beneath the roots of trees?
Could one see what is ahead, as no mere path at all, but a bend, a curve we close towards, or long since past the reaches of its clutches.
Do we turn away, or move to embrace it?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Whatever dreams can we form in the wake of daylight? The moments before we can absorb sunlight and merely wallow in the dusk of our rest? In that moment, when reality seems as nothing more than part of our dream, it is then we remember our escapdes of the night the strongest. And yet, they are dismissed. Our minds realising there is nothing of value to be found there. And thus, one wonders, what truly separates dusk from dawn?

Happy Filthy Friday~.