Monster
Trianna POV
It took me time to accept what I was being pushed into. Ever since I was young, my mother and father told me that one day, I might grow to hate myself. I know, what parents tell that to their child right? But they saw no point in lying to me. It was going to happen. I was going to hate myself.

I am half-vampire.

Not because of my mother, not because of my father. It was my paternal grandfather.

It was a miracle my father got none of the vampire symptoms. It was the best miracle. My grandparents were one of those unbelievably fated couples in the world. A vampire and a human fell in love and got married and had my dad. They were prepared to have to deal with a vampire child, but, miraculously, it did not happen. My father came out normal, as normal as any human could ever be. It was not surprising; he had more of my grandmother’s genes. Eventually, my father met my mother, fell in love and got married. I came along. That’s how the equation works right?

They had nothing to worry, for they were both human. However, something was not right. When I was 3, my eye color changed. The color was nothing like my parents’. Their eyes were a nice shade of hazel and dark brown. Mine, was green, dark, forest green. As a kid, my treats weren’t sweets. They were blood, small droplets of blood from my parents. But by the time I was 7, my parents and grandparents helped me grow an addiction to lollipops, making me turn to them whenever I had a craving attack. For blood that is. But craving attacks were rare, very rare. I was only a half-vampire anyway.

As the days passed, I grew into a teenager, my parents and grandparents aged, except my grandfather. My grandmother long got used to the fact that my grandfather would not be able to age with her. After a while, I found it weird that my father was starting to look older than my grandfather. Things all went well, until the night before I turned 18.

It was taboo.

All a taboo.

I really hated myself now.

No one saw it coming. So we didn’t make precautions.

I killed them. I killed my parents. I didn’t even know what happened. I couldn’t even remember. I only remembered that I was enjoying a movie on television with my parents alone at home as my grandparents were out for a friends’ gathering dinner or something. And the next thing I remembered were my parents, lying in their own pool of blood, not breathing. My hands and face, stained with blood. My grandfather tried to stop me but feeding me his blood, but it was too late. It was all too late. I held onto my grandfather’s bitten arm and lay there, just staring at my parents. The clock struck midnight and everything turned black.

I woke up the next morning in my own bed, an urge to puke filled my guts as I rushed to the toilet to throw up. Nothing came out, just regurgitation. I looked up in the mirror, and blinked. I blinked again, harder this time, making sure I was not hallucinating. My eyes were, green, not dark green, but a lighter shade. I pulled the side of my mouth to reveal my canine teeth. They were sharper than before. In a state of shock and panic, I ran down the stairs, where I knew where my family would be. The moment I reached the first floor, I saw my grandparents outside, in the backyard.

I hesitated to move. Someone tell me the nightmare I had was not real.
“G-Grandpa?” I murmured. My grandfather turned, making my grandmother do the same. My grandmother had a tear-streaked face and a handkerchief in her hands. My grandfather looked the worse ever since I knew him. I swallowed hard before walking closer to them, and I noticed two coffins being laid on the ground.

Tears fell down my cheeks as I realized who those two being laid there were.

“Grandpa… Tell me this isn’t real…” I struggled to believe what was happening in front of me. My grandfather held onto me before I could collapse.

“Trianna, please don’t be like this…” he pleaded.

I knelt in front of my parents’ tombs and bid them a last farewell before they were being cremated. The fire was burning away so many memories. I almost wanted to walk into it, almost.

“I’m sorry…” I whispered under my breath and said a deep prayer. I lifted myself up from the ground and dried my tears. Walking to my grandparents, I gave them both a tight hug before my grandfather could go on another trail of apologies about how it was his fault I am what I am now. Worse, I am not a pure. And that is making things so hard for us to decipher. It was something none of us wanted. However, I had to blame myself. And I blamed myself, a lot. But I never mentioned anything about my parents ever since my 18th birthday. I wanted to escape.

For one year, we continued to stay at that same house. And every day without fail, I would walk to the backyard where my parents were cremated and kiss the ground, apologize then do whatever I had to do for the day. I stayed away from school which my grandparents obliged. I doubt anyone is ready for me to have a sudden craving attack again and start ******* the blood out of my classmates since my cravings were stronger now. I used to only have to **** on lollipops whenever I see blood. But now, I had to have a lollipop in my mouth 24/7, considering the fact that we are in fact staying amongst humans, and most probably have to for the rest of my life, and I start wondering how long my life would be.

To start things anew, my grandparents decided we needed to shift to a new state. If we continued to stay in that place, as they assumed, would be bringing me way too much pain. I had no opinions; I just needed to follow them wherever they wanted to go. However, I did mention there was not much need to actually move, I was over the whole blaming myself about my parents’ death thing… I think.

We settled down in a small town called Kingslet based in the United States, where Grandpa once lived with his family. I heard that that town was secluded, but definitely still populated with humans, moreover, rich humans. And probably some vampires.

We moved into a cottage that my grandfather bought over from an old friend. And when I said old friend, I meant like, a really really really old vampire friend of his who happened to want to move away to another town with his family. My grandfather drove a van that he had rented from near the place where our private plane landed to the location where we were destined to live. Upon arriving, my jaw dropped. That isn’t a cottage, more like a mansion, for goodness sake. Alighting from the van, I took one breath and knew it was the signal for me to be ******* on lollipops again. I took one out from my backpack and opened it before popping it into my mouth.

“The smell getting to you already? That’s fast.” My grandfather, who was obviously already immune to the smell of blood, chuckled.

“Shut up.” I mock-glared my grandfather and smiled as I helped with moving the luggage into the house. Being half-vampire, for the moment, was not half bad. I get extra super strength, a cliché vampire gift. I did my own research of my own kind. We get super human strength, sense of smell increases and super human speed. But I figured maybe because I was only half-bred, I wasn’t sensitive to the sun, nor to garlics, or crosses. I consider myself lucky.

Entering the cottage, I placed the luggage on the floor before taking a look around the place. The place was really not bad. It was huge, comfortable and very cozy. My grandmother would definitely love it here. Well, she would be the only one hanging around the house 24/7. I don’t really want my 75 year old human grandmother wandering just anywhere she wants alone. High chances are that she was going to get hurt or something. But touch wood. And true enough, my grandmother was already taking her place on one of the sofas furnished in the living room by the fireplace, smiling at my grandfather.

“It’s wonderful here, Xavier dear.” She complimented.

Both grandfather and I smiled at her then at each other.

“Glad that you like it here, Katrina darling.” He said to my grandmother, making me quiver at their sweetness, but it was not like I was not used to it. “Come on Tri, let’s start moving the things.” He turned to me and suggested. I nodded with a smile. As we were at moving, I was told my room is on the second floor, in which I get to choose between three bedrooms, and the other two would become any room I want them to be, and that most likely means I would be having the whole second floor to myself. This really doesn’t sound so bad. I picked the biggest room, and poked my head in, realizing that the bed and all were already furnished perfectly. It must be grandpa. He knows me really well. Too well.

I threw both my luggage onto my bed and opened them, revealing my clothes and all my other belongings and started unpacking. First, my one and only family photo left after grandpa decided to keep the rest away from me at our old home. He only allowed me to keep one, the one we took when I was 15, in which I really don’t look much different compared to the present me. Staring at the photo, I wished so much that they were still here with me. It didn’t matter if we were going to move either way, as long as they were here, things would be perfect. I quickly put the picture frame at the side of my bed before I could actually start crying my green orbs out again. I proceeded with the rest of my unpacking and once I was done, I had also finished my lollipop. Being lazy to open another open, I chose to leave the empty lollipop stick in my mouth and chew on it instead.

Heading downstairs with my headphones hanging around my neck and smartphone, I hopped onto the longest sofa that was facing the wide screen television, switched on the television and started to channel surf, deciding to figure out the town’s frequency, hoping they have my favorite music and drama channels.

“Trianna!”

I heard my name coming from behind me, before turning to my grandmother. She merely shrugged at me, so I pouted at her and responded to my grandfather. “Yes, grandpa?” turning to meet gazes with him. I instantly felt a bunch of papers being shoved into my hold.

“What is this?” I asked, flipping through the pieces of paper, which I realized had my name and identification number printed everywhere.

“Your new school registration confirmation. I have already settled everything for you. And you are reporting to school the day after tomorrow, on Monday.” My grandfather said, taking a place next to my grandmother as they cuddled up.

“Isn’t this a little bit too soon?” I frowned. I really did not hate school. I just hated the fact that if I have to hang around humans, I have to deal with my control over my craving. It’s stressful and tiring.

“You are not getting away with anything this time, Trianna. It’s been a year since you last went to school. And the sooner you go out there to train, the better. Eventually, you will need to walk out of the house.”

Crap. I struggled to find another excuse. And light bulb!

“What about this and this?” I pointed at my eyes first, then my teeth.

“Don’t fret about it. I’m stocking up on your contact lenses for you, and your lollipops. Plus, your teeth aren’t obvious either, those lollipops are grazing them off.”

“But-!”

“Trianna!”

I bit my lips, “Yes grandpa…” I knew there was no way I can argue further. My grandfather was right; I have to deal with this someday, somehow anyway. Why not just go out there and face the music, get it over and done with? He had already obliged to me for a year, it was my turn to listen.

Dinner was spaghetti with carbonara, my grandfather’s best cuisine. Nothing beats this. It was my favorite behind lollipops. After dinner, it was sliced fruits and television. Once I felt I had my fair share of the night, I kissed my grandparents goodnight.

Third Person POV

After Trianna headed up to her room, her grandmother frowned.

“What’s wrong, Katrina?” Trianna’s grandfather asked, caressing his wife’s cheeks.

“Xavier, don’t you think it’s a little too harsh on Trianna? Making her go to school now? Go out there with the humans?” she questioned, as worried as her face portrayed her to be.

Xavier sighed. As much as he did not want to risk his one and only precious granddaughter, he had to. “Katrina, we have to let her go. She is very unlike me. If we don’t let her go, we will never have our answers about her. I know I promise to ask my friends more about Dhampirs. I will. But Trianna still has to go. I cannot protect her forever.” Xavier let out another sigh, “I don’t even know for sure, if she is a Dhampir.”

Trianna POV

The morning sun shone on my face indicating the new day. I struggled to open my eyes as I lifted myself off my bed. I stretched uncomfortably and yawned. This new bed sure needs some getting used to. After combing and tying up my shoulder-lengthed dark brown wavy hair, I washed myself up before heading down to the first floor.

“Good morning Grandpa. Good morning Grandma.” It was a habit to greet. A good one, I know. It was pancakes for breakfast, I could totally smell it since I was upstairs. Popping my head into the kitchen, I took another deep breath.

“Pancakes?” I asked, excited.

“Bet you smelt it the moment you woke up.” He laughed.

“Not exactly, but when I was upstairs, yes.” I chuckled along, moving to hug him.

“Good morning Tri.” He greeted, hugging me tightly.

“Where’s Grandma?” I bobbed my head around, not seeing her anywhere in sight.

“In the backyard trying to do some exercise.” He answered.

You are seriously letting a 75 year old woman do exercise alone in the backyard. Call yourself the best husband in the world. Creep.

I ran towards the backyard and saw my grandma doing some stretches to the morning radio slowly. Like literally, really slowly. I skipped over to greet her, shocking her a little before I pounced slightly to hug her and give her a daily dose of her morning kiss. Sensing that my grandfather was almost done with the pancakes, I led her back into the house and sat her down on her seat at the big round dining table. After helping my grandfather with laying the table, we three finally sat down for breakfast.

Picking up the maple syrup, I poured enough to cover my pancakes before placing my block butters on them, melting them and coating the pancakes. Love them this way. The silence during the meal was perfect, until my grandpa decided to break it.

“So,” he coughed slightly, “Any plans for today?” he asked, looking straight at me.

“No… Why would I have any plans made in a new town?” I asked, avoiding eye contact with my grandfather because I knew exactly where he was getting at.

“Why don’t you take a walk around the new town?”

I cursed under my breath. I think I forgot to mention. My grandfather’s vampire gift, was reading minds. That was exactly why, he knows me very well. ***** to be me, sometimes.

“Sure, doesn’t sound like such a bad idea before the start of school?” I replied. I was not out of my mind. But since I had already promised to go to school, there should not be a problem with just walking around town and try to get used to humans one day earlier. “Are you two coming with me?”

Grandpa nodded and said that he had already suggested to grandma about taking a walk around town, to let grandma know the place better as well as get to know a few faces around us. He felt it wasn’t nice to not greet if you are new in town.

After getting changed into a simple tee and shorts matched with my favorite pair of converse shoes, I hung my headphones around my neck again, plugging the end into my phone and opened one lollipop to pop into my mouth before heading out. The smell was already overwhelming at the door. Thanks, you pathetic piece of body. But if grandpa could get used to it, so will I. I saw my grandfather picked out his favorite hat and placed it on his head and I smirked. At least I can handle some sun.

Walking around town, we got to know a few people. Like Uncle Tyler, owner of the Italian restaurant along the streets, and a few other people around my grandma’s age or slightly younger. I merely greeted and smiled at them, not knowing what to say. Sadly, my grandpa had to introduce himself as my grandmother’s son. Very heartbreaking, to me at least. My grandparents long foreseen this and had been mentally prepared, I really sal

Have you found a Saviour;
One to emulate,
Then denegrate,
Whip and crown and tree?
Then turn, and say,
It wasn't me.

Would I have seen the god-like qualities,
Listen to the sermons,
Eat the fish and bread,
Drink the watery wine?
Would he raise me from the dead?
Could my feet fit the prints
On the sands of Galilee.
Would he admonish me
For having two coats,
Finishing my smoke
With one straw in my coke?

I have found my Saviour.
His name is Xavier.

In one ear and out the other you whisper sweet nothings
I’ve always been told to listen to the truth but no one ever said why
The devil says if I fall in love with him I’d be a ***** sinner like him
Being a ***** sinner never seemed so pleasing until I met Lucifer himself
His eyes daring and lustful, my mother always told me I could find the good in others
I whisper back only to receive no reply
Feeling your grip tighten around my hips bringing me in
I feel my lips split. I can't catch my breath, where have my wings gone?
Once a god now a sinner your sweet words filled me with hope
Now I live with misery with your name tattooed on my heart
I was a god meant for your cage.

the following additions will seems like plastic
surgery,
               and in turn will put the encompassed
poem under much strain,
  but as i will say: a 48h marathon can do
that to your narrative "skills"... well... techniques...
   esp. given it's winter in the northern
hemisphere, and two nights and two days
actually feels like three nights and two days,
given we're into our second day, and i've already
experienced a night-time this morning looking
at the clock.

  italics will be pleasantly omitted...

        instead... a maxim style akin to la Rochefoucauld
will be adopted... to merely insert
             toothache when otherwise the ***
is sitting on a leather sofa and thinking what would
be a better chance to juice up the brain with a
psychoactive sedative-effect, i.e. with what liquid?
    coffee on the brain is a sahara, as is famously
known: arabs love their coffee... and their
  baklava dressed in balaclavas - or as we say in
Europe: there's enough water, so we drink alcohol.
    turns out diabetic rates only go down in arabia
if enough sports cars are imported... must be
the g-force diet.

         but hey! look at the title! the title was always
going to to resemble the final version of
the preliminary work, the sketch, of what went on
last night...
                   beginning with the scariest film i have ever
seen: a horror movie without anything to do with
night or its aura (i was about to say aurora, never mind),
a movie from 2002... which ended being more scary
even it almost bagged the lead role an oscar...
        and then what i can only claim to be better than
gaming these days... taking graphic novels onto screen...

which brings me to a question, and if i ask the question
with a mature enough wording,
i might actually get a serious debate going...
     namely? x-men, first class...
         and i share something with this theme,
did you know that people remember far away from
Chernobyl parks being pigmented, where
   there were segregational duo-incisions in the trees
from the radiation? it happened nearing when i
was born, spring, and the women were told to drink
iodine... that 2002 film shows iodine treatment
   on "mental" patients, you pour enough iodine down
the nostrils you get a better understanding of
epilepsy... ah... the magical things people could ever
think of doing on another human being, let alone
   a courgette, or a steak...
                well, yes, in parks, half the trees were
the colour of spring, all green and asparagus juicy...
the other half were brown, and decaying,
    almost potato skinned, if not simply: potato skinned.
      as i said, i was a foetus at the time,
and apparently some Scandinavian got a microcosmic
whiff of it and panicked... let alone those exposed
too close to Chernobyl, a radiation-pH spectrum
emerged, of who and how they were exposed it...
    cancer, for example, is prevalent in Poland of
those who don't get to experience a midlife mental
disorder of buying a yacht... lucky them...
   which fits nicely into the seriousness of graphic
novels, as that film unbreakable clearly demonstrates...
  all realism of graphic novels actually stems
from batman... my favourite... no super-powers,
plus i had a simulation of being orphaned and raised
by my grandparents for 2 - 4 years while my early
psyche developed, and then redeveloped utilising
a different language, then went back to settle old dues,
and then went back again: charged with having read
    antoine de saint-exupéry on a year long
hiatus that allowed me to watch the 1998 world cup
              in a dark-lit room with my great-grandmother
and see France win... with such jubilation as if
Napoleon just came back from Elbe for seconds.
this is not the point, i said i would word it maturely
and not look half as an ***:
    why does francis xavier sympathise with
max eisenhardt, but belittles james "logan" howlett?

   all things start so small, i just remembered listening
to this song that allows you to lay down words like
bricks in a wall (prometheus' 9th - the man who swam
through a speaker)...

  why does he, is francis xavier just ******* that
one of logan's mutation counter-pluses is his ability
   to regenerate health and vitality, while at the same time
creating a amnesic hinderance to apply his psychopathy?
i guess it is... max on the other hand as unchanging:
fixed memory coordinates, because physically:
he's unscratched... up to a point of how this debate
runs its course... i just don't see how francis has to
belittle logan... just like henry "hank" mccoy is first
belittled as simply bigfoot... the problem with
amnesia is that even you have the capacity to
engage in telepathy (rooting out distant pathologies
rooted deep inside your psyche that never allow
you to reach a full potential - or what's Freud's
case of postulating receding pathologies and subsequently
creating a forward looking theory to work with
in creating uninhibiting constructs -
       francis xavier? nothing more than a psychiatrist...
in the modern sense, without iodine treatment,
or electric-shock-therapy... rather the guy that
says everyone is special via talk-therapy...
  and all psychiatrists have this child in them:
they all want to be telepathic... just like all
manual labourers want to be telekinetic) -
           the oldest chestnut, if there ever was a hazelnut
to boot.

       original, as except of what is to come...
  i mean, what i started off is now bound to italics,
  just to make a point that after watching 48 hours
of things, and having finally looked at symbols,
    i could only write so much coherently,
before donning what looked like some poet's clothes,
and stepping into a foggy highnoon for
  a bottle of beer, a bottle of whiskey, and
     a prescription of insomnia pills...
   well (they're called anti-depressants for old people,
who prefer to treat their "depression" - if not
merely old age, while they're asleep)...

no one would ask for this type
of hiatus...
       some would call it:
being an american spy,
      getting caught in soviet
russia and enduring interrogation
techniques -
    yes, a "hiatus" of nearing
48 hours: of being constantly awake.
       or what certain former
east europeans going back
   to see family members might
ask about, when Lithuania, Estonia
and Latvia are under a national
sway of general jittering paranoia
as reported by English newspapers
   and later established by
            an American president's
tour of the region -
                         or how Crimea
is the 37th or 38th or whatever no. it's
now - or whether it's
           Tartar autonom oblast -
but indeed, nearing a 48 hour long
insomniac "hiatus".

            and i can sympathise with francis xavier
experiences when max eisenhardt is first encountered,
this sharpness of a psyche, rather than its automation
or literal non-existence... this is why i could
            stay up for longer than 48 hours if i wanted to,
but i can see so much in being awake for so long
that natural consequence is that:
a. i have lost the capacity to dream,
  b. i have translated the capability to dream into code
(namely the letters you see before you)
   and
c. i have found a "safe-space" to recuperate from
the pain i feel...
  meaning
      d. i know with what ease people acquire a substance
known as a soul... and with what ease they can
think in this substance, like a fish in water...
    what i'm talking is a lobster a boiling basin,
where your exoskeleton can mean a lot upon
jumping off a cliff, but when your inner flesh,
starts to be almost eaten by the mutation of protein
from tapeworm larvae into edible meat?
      i know this substance, i have experienced it...
and i know that i dare not put a soul into a foetus
that doesn't have a workable tongue, bladder and ****.
  i think it's time to end this preliminary "work".

We aren't very different.

Konkretong kahon ang tawag
Ko sa eskwelahan ninyo,
Na puro sikreto,
Silaw—dahil sa napakaputi
Ninyong mga balat, paa,
Malambot, makinis, na halos
Binasbasan
Ng mga kayumangging kerubin—
Ayaw basagin.

Sila, ang taga-tayo ng mga
Gusali ninyo, puro pawis.
Puro naka-long sleeve, ang
Init! Noo nila’y sunog,
Kumikilabot, kumaladkad,
Kilay itim sunggab ng
Araw.

Ngayon,
Nakikita ko sila—puro trabaho,
Balikat bumabagsak dahil sa
Bigat ng mortar, laryo,
Ulo baba-taas-yuko na parang
Kumakadang sa luad,
Tapak kasing bigat ng mga konkretong
Tipak—taga-buhat ng mga
Pintang maputla.

Batman, Superman, Iron Man to I cant  fly I can not turn blue?
Captain America, Wolverine, Flash, I cant shoot lazers from my eyes or be there in a dash.
X-men, Watchmen, Xavier too, im not from krypton or mutated from a Zoo.
Im not another hero I was rasied as a zero, through words I can inspire and now retire.

A swanky sophisticated party on Miami Beach Blvd
The who’s who guest list that was suave
There party that wasn’t odd
However an invited guest who would make their move
Everyone was dancing and sipping on some wine
But there was plenty of food to dine
Suddenly without warning, a gun shoot ran out
There was plenty of commotion and shouts
The owner of the mansion being Samuel Xavier who had just been killed
Mr. Samuel Xavier was a very wealthy elegant fashion mogul, but the consequence was more of a movie still
The reason the mogul was killed is still not clear
However the killer could very well still be near
The rumor has it Mr. Xavier was in a heated argument prior before the party had begun
Mr. Xavier’s business partner, Jason Bean wanted more than be just a partner, it was possession
No one knows what will happen now to the empire
Someone on the surface has plenty of desire
The Police are searching and the killer will be found
But for now don’t utter any sound
You could be guilty in being on the investigation round
Justice on call for the killer’s jail cell being a final bound.

In primo luogo .questa sposa è il mio eroe moda.Non solo ha roccia un abito tutto pizzo - life changingly stupenda ma commutato in due abiti più splendidi prima del giorno era finito .E se questo è ottenuto tutti verdi di invidia solo aspettare fino a vedere l' intera vicenda francese dal Knot \u0026Pop .Laetitia C e Xavier Navarro .Questa .miei cari .è uno dei libri .

Condividi questa splendida galleria ColorsSeasonsSummerSettingsEstateStylesAl Fresco

Da Knot \u0026Pop .. Ayse \u0026Fred ha sposato in Provenza nel settembre 2013 .sotto i vasti cieli e le stelle tra le più belle di impostazioni francesi.Ayse è da Londra origine .ma ora vive a Parigi con Fred .dove rappresentano Artisti e gestito una galleria d'arte insieme .Con la coppia che ha solide radici in Francia .e Fred ' famiglia dal sud della Francia .hanno scelto di sposarsi in Francia la più singolare di luoghièun borgo privato pieno di arte e di curiosità che completavano alla perfezione la coppia ' amore per l'arte.Con la cerimonia legale in un piccolo municipio locale .e la famiglia immediata del 10 per assistere .Ayse \u0026Fred ha poi chiesto loro amici Valerio e Sam di agire come celebranti per la cerimonia informale a Le Grand Banc .di fronte ai loro 140 ospiti .

Sposato con vista sulle colline della Provenza .gli ospiti sono stati invitati a creare un cono coriandoli dalla Confetti Bar che ha visto splendida argenteria pieno di ***** di fiori e semi.Dopo il più divertente di cerimonie che hanno visto i due amici raccontano le storie di Ayse \u0026Fred .drink di accoglienza ha avuto luogo il bordo piscina e sul prato .con gli ospiti poi a piedi attraverso la frazione al tendone per la cena .

Per completare le impostazioni naturali.il tema eschema per il giorno mescolato una palette morbida di blush rosa.verde oliva .azzurro .argento e bianco che è stato poi il mirroring di tutti i fiori.decorazioni.cameriere guarda e table- top.Mescolato con la tavolozza .la coppia e il loro evento designer .Knot \u0026Pop pin punte ulteriori temi chiave per l'aspetto grafico che comprendeva motivi a stella per riflettere il senso delle celebrazioni che si svolgono sotto le stelle .e gli animalièin particolare gli elefantièun amore assoluto della sposa ' .

Il motivo stella è stato ripetuto in tutte le ghirlande di nastro che a cascata da archi .i lati cerimonia tendone e alberi focali .Il piano tavolo disegnato da Knot \u0026Pop utilizzato anche il disegno della stella con ghirlande che parte da un bellissimo albero di fico .che ha visto gli ospiti vengono realmente coinvolti nella scoperta delle loro sedi .Piani tavolo miste dipinte plinti stelle legno in mostra splendido fiore riempito di bottiglie d'epoca .con rametti di rami di ulivo immerso in per tovaglioli .e una stella dipinta come favoreèrosa per ragazzi.e blu per le ragazze .

A tavola i bambini era tutto sul fattore divertimento con una stampa wallpaper di marchi e matite colorare collocato fuori per tenere i bambini occupatiècontempo riflette ancora una volta la coppia e il loro amore per l'arte con la galleria stile carta da parati incorniciata .Il bar è stata ribattezzata la Star Bar con un pi argentoeata fondale.stella cocktail agitatori e cocktail su misura prende il nome la coppia a scegliere.

elefanti vernice spray argento apparsi su ogni tavolo con un cartellino attaccato spiegando che la coppia sarebbe in visita un rifugio per animali in viaggio di nozze in Kenya .dove



abiti da sposa pizzo sarebbero donare a nome dei loro invitati alle nozzeèuna bella e sentita alternativafavorire .Gli ospiti sono stati certamente sentendo la magia animale aver doned maschere di animali per una divertente sessione di photobooth prima di andare in cenare .Foto Polaroid degli ospiti sono state prese in un contesto nastro.con gli ospiti scrivendo poi un messaggio alla coppia e mettendo in una tela a forma di cuore .rendendo il perfetto keep- sake della giornata che si trova ora un posto d'onore nella coppia ' a ​​casa .Ayse \u0026Giorno Fred ' era pieno di divertimento .che riflette tutti i loro amori .con tutta la loro cari intorno a loro per celebrare nelle impostazioni più singolari .memorabili ed elegante di .
Fotografo: Xavier Navarro Photographie | Fiori : Laetitia C | Abito da sposa: Pronovias | Altri Abiti : Oh My Love | Rosticcerie : Helen Traiteur | Scarpe sposo : Hugo Boss | Vestito dello sposo : Hugo Boss | scarpe da sposa da sposa .Main Ricerca: Dolce \u0026 Gabbana | scarpe da sposa da sposa .look vintage : Dune | Abiti ragazze di fiore : Etsy .adattata dal fratello della sposa abiti da sposa pizzo | Marquee : AR Eventi | Hamlet privata: Le Grand Banc | Argenteria Auto : Knot \u0026 Pop | Abito da sposa Vintage: GabrieleVintage | abiti da sposa outlet Wedding Planner e Event Designer : Knot \u0026 PopLaetitia C. - fleurs d' atelier è un membro del nostro Little Black Book .Scopri come i membri sono scelti visitando la nostra pagina delle FAQ .Laetitia C. - fleurs d' atelier VIEW
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I'm looking down watching what you do
As if i'm Uatu the Watcher
Or maybe I'm controlling you
Like the evil Puppet Master
See you have no control in life
This is my world and I'm just allowin you to live in it
It's like I'm eating up planets with Galactus
And creating chaos with Apocalypse
I'm in control of my actions
Choosing to do wrong
Only to wait until my redemption by the hands of the worthy
You're inside my head like Charles Xavier
Trying to find out my secrets
Only to discover that I keep my mental barriers on lock
With no key or code to unlock
Said passageway into my subconsious
Because I can block you without a helmet
Unlike Juggernaut or Magneto
I'm free to swing around with the good wall crawler known as
Scarlet Spider
Hah
And write up my own unique flows with no worries
I don't need the X-men or Avengers
Or my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man
To know that I have some great repsonsibilities on my shoulders
Weighing me down like a ton of bricks
And I don't need someone like Doom
Telling me how to be a leader
When we all know his leadership skills could use some attention
I'm an enigma
Close to what Deadpool would say is
Very unique
Before muttering towards the wall
As if it were his faithful audience
I know who I am
I know what I do
So simply put
I'm freaking awesome

I felt so happy. I was so excited. Me and Xavier had been invited to a double date with some of our long time no see friends. Liam was bringing his girlfriend, and Carter was tagging along. It was full of kisses and couple pictures, spilled popcorn and fights over cinema seats, murmures whispers to one another asking who the hell had forgotten to boy some water. It was fun. It was really fun. We went bowling after the movie and I was nervous. I had only gone bowling once and I was awful. But I felt confident enough to play. Confident enough to play and massively fail. Note to self: you are awful at bowling. But so did Leah. We were all making jokes, checking who had won in the other lanes, jumping and dancing in those uncomfortable mandatory shoes. I'm surprised we didn't get kicked out. And we got hungry. So we went to eat. To an overly priced pizza restaurant, with neon lights and old rock playing in the background. Carter was screaming for water as Leah and Liam made out in a booth. Xavier and I, we just stared at them in disbelief and apologized to waiters who passed by. The food came. And we ate. We ate like we had never had food before. I wasn't scared to eat in front of them. I wasn't scared to eat. I was so proud of myself. As soon as we finished I went to the bathroom. But on the way there I saw a table looking at me from the corner of my eye. With all my past relationships I didn't want to look directly at them. But an old review makeup mirror did the trick for me. And there I saw them. In a corner table sat a group of about fifteen people. A group of people who made my life impossible back in the day. I saw my ex. My abusive manipulative ex. The ex that started everything: from my self harm to my eating disorder. I saw the girls who made fun of me at school. And I remember the years of bullying I went through. I saw all the girls who abandoned me and turned their backs to me just because someone else came along. A better version of me. One that wasn't scared to go eat out and preferred walking around town to sitting in a living room playing video games. So. I kept walking. I didn't bother looking back. I put on a firm look to try and hide my shaking hands and teary eyes. and I made it back to my table. But Leah, my poor Leah, she couldn't have chosen a better day to start her period. So I went with her. I had to. She needed help. As she sorted herself out I looked proudly at my makeup in the mirror. But then I saw. I saw them moving, walking towards me. All of them coming in at the same time, blocking the door for me to escape. They might have thought I was alone in there. As they looked at me top and down, Leah stormed out of the toilet saying how the boys were waiting for us outside. And so the only thing they were brave enough to do was ask me if the toilet was free. If they could go in. And they said it with such disgust that the only thing that was left to do was for me to laugh. And that's what I did. And with the fear in my veins and blood rushing everywhere I grabbed Leah's hand and left those ******* with the remains of my fake but honest laugh. I would have punched them. I really wanted to. But it's not my place to start hell in a restaurant toilet.

Thursday, October 25, 2018
1:33 PM History records my state of mind:

Pure thought projects zoom in and out of focus,
Political integrity, personal honesty, good medicine, bad medicine

Whose hell imagined itself transfigured int-energ-
emagically into
the set of NULL?

Mine.
Imagine that. Pure thought experiment, unjudgeable, fret not.

Puritans lack the pineal insight to see the light in the forest.
Horus eye in the middle of the brain?
I just saw that, too. Pineal reality.

The light in the forest?

The man in black lingered there, according Hawthorne,

or did old Nate mock the man in black and laugh at the idea of

good medicine, bad medicine, goody two-shoes
holds it in her holy socks. She's a witch.
stupid.

That was a McLuhanwaderyadoin joke. You don't have to laugh.
We no longer know of his work.
Have to is a stupid saying.
say waht it means, spellt out have, et to.
I have
breath,
blood, spit, eyes, ears et cetera

but to, have to, what? can to having have meaning with no do:
to what end have I any thingable thought to what?
Stupid language, nothing is ever clear.

Ought we explore our relationship, you and me, I mean,
when I say we. We are intimate, dear reader.
As close as two minds may be, with permission, assumed.
My insane, in your brain, is not my insane in mine.
A little like leaven, if you ever bake.

No con querity con cerns us here, we filtered those before.
CERN's discerning of the matter making
thing, bosonic tonic device,
that led us to line our tinfoil hat with lead,
just in case Higgs ups happen and stutters start.

Hold your breath. We both have one to hold, but not for long.
And so it goes, I do enjoy a vintage Vonnegut thought
floating by on a breeze.

Imagine me a Virginia Wolfe trust fund child gone wild,
un gentled, sent down t' Tobbacca Road
in a hot rod Lincoln,
t' find a bride.

Some said something in the water, flouride, petrafied
pineal glands and blinded a generation,
to the sins of their father's
legions of liars,

hired to progressively teach us to work in factories
which vanished
right before

the beans vanished from our ears and we heard the rush
of the rolling tide lifting boats big and small.

Remember being accused, in your mind, of only wanting to be on the side that's winning?

That hot rod Lincoln, Thunderword road, remember the environ?
Pure
Moonshine, melts that petrafied flouride away,

a whole generation o' peasants
turned on.
Holler Hi dee **, burns the tummy, doncha know but

epigenetic application of pure moonshine in the ac-company-ment,
companion, accuse amigo,
same bread, same leaven,
com panion we be
joined.

Jesuits, that was the idea,
formed in Xavier's fever wracked brain
as his medievally medicated flesh fought for every
breath.
Heroic. Hagiographic. Stale, smoke filled acacia incense maybe

We have gone to havings
whence such bread is said to become the an-ointed, magi know, knew, expected, fore told for if ever forever begins,
as far as mortal peasants may be concerned with such high mindedness.

The leader is a liar and the people feel free to follow him.
When the twisted rule the ruled twist, too.

Solomonic wisdom, that is. Oil on the water. Pass the torch.

This was 2018, Donald Trump was President.
how come this to be
to have to be
held.
Who still,
can imagine war?
None.

No reflection,
lack of humility,
proud noble rare-ified re-ified de-ified

Charming fellow, though, can't you admit
his charm is a luring, tempting thing, temporary testing,
is he
an enemy,
donchaluvem? Life is the test. It is that simple. Right, Mr. Perot?

No distraction action condemns a man here, we have none.
Condemnation, none of that here. My reality, you know.

Tempests in teapots, fersher. Command zed, eh.
Fold it up, put it away. New idea. New everything.

People and political servants. No more leaders, no more war.
imagine that.
People and servants serving to govern the emerging
situations
as time rolls out the barrel with the single rotten apple,

and we, the people, feed that rotten apple to the pigs,

who were addicted to pearls,
during the confusion
as mankind lost its mind

we never doubted the need for men to be born.
again, we knew not what we believed born again may be.

Taste, good medicine is bitter more oft than not,

Sugar blues on a global level, those never justify the cost,
of making the medicine go down.

Sweet desire deprived, that is poison.
Dainty appetizers, served in the rich man circus,
stolen by servants racked with guilt,

shame and blame arise,

emergency action, a reason, why are those dainty meats so alluring,


ask the fisherman. Watch for his hook.

Did you find,
All you were so solemnly looking for,
Did you see the reasons,
Behind the confusion...
Did you know the answers lie in the back's of your eyelids,
Drifting toward a time,
Of frivolous desire,
Towards to initiation of some being,
Sort,
Or...

Did all the life just get suddenly drained from you very essence,
As you are guided,
Or are you guiding?
Who is what you are already?
Is it something more or less than you are?

I am the pretender
You must precensor
When I'm an inventor
Who can't get centered
I'm the apologist
You're the psychologist
We have a suitable deal
You provide an even keel
And cook delicious meals
And let my fingers feel
But you do so much more
Going deeper than the shore

You make a difference
By insistence
I see your footprints
In the distance
They lead me to progress
My mind cannot process
Those things I can't fathom
You effortlessly grab them

You were my bastion of behavior
I thought you were my savior
You're more like Charles Xavier
Controlling my mind
To keep me blind
By taking my vision
When you make your incision
And put me in prison

You're Sigmund Freud
On steroids
You fill my void
Then get annoyed
You cured me of my madness
Yet instilled sadness
When I got addicted to your healing
But then heard your tires peeling
After all your analysis
You deemed me talentless

You used to be my example of what to be
Now you're my example of what to flee
You made me hate the number three
While running my car into a tree
Which made me scream ouch
My ejection from your couch
So I hide in my palace
And drink from a chalice
Filled with mindless malice
While holding my phallus
But I learned my lesson
One last confession
Someone that can calm my brain
Can also leave a permanent stain

X-ray my heart tonight
No radiation I can’t take
Drip me my anesthetics
Yet I am widely awake

X marks the soft spot
Never ending maze
Drive me to your heart
You never fail to amaze

Xylophone can be heard
Neither soft nor loud
Dagger through my soul
You are what this is about

X-Files resembles us
Never-ending alienation
Driving into an abyss
You are my constant confusion

Xerox my feelings for you
Note it down in fragrant paper
Drowning…in hopes that
You have the best birthday ever

He has the type of eyes that made diamonds look dull,
Sharper than glass,
Lit by his beautiful lively flame.
Days are different now.
His eyes are no longer alive, but still as blue as the brightest sapphires,
The same color as mine,
But mine hold more gray, more sadness,
His not as often clouded by nostalgia and tears.

His wit is quick, making me grin in my saddest moments,
Admittedly, as sad as they could be with him there.
He was my rock, my guidance, my sentiment, my sanity,
He still is.
As much as he'd hope to disagree.

Discarded is an understatement.
If I had known, I wouldn't have been so angry.
Perhaps, at you.
At myself, the anguish doubled.
Stupid is an understatement.
I should have known,
And I apologize with every ounce in me.
I'd give up all I have to make you see.

His spirit is one of the strongest I've ever seen.
He was willing to take on the world with one hand tied behind his back.
Yet courage could only take a fearful young man so far,
There's so much to see,
But fear is a barrier,
A wall that had contained us both,
For months that felt like years.
We're tearing it down,
Brick by brick,
Progressing to the flawless lovers we once were.

Neither of us were lucky enough to possess the virtue of patience.
The pain tugging at our hearts pulls us together,
But like the opposite sides of a magnet,
We push each other away,
Obeying the laws of physics and common sense.

But no one said we had any sense.

His smile is better than any sunrise,
Better than long walks on beaches,
Or strolls in the Chicago streets.
Not a lick of arrogance,
Just honesty and grace.
When he was actually happy,
He radiated more than the sun.

He is the boy I fell in love with all those long months ago.
And I am still the girl he once knew.
But we are broken now,
With only each other to put ourselves back together.
But I do believe,
We have a chance,
To be who we were,
Take two broken hearts and become one again.

Sometimes, "I love you" just isn't enough.

I don't know who I am,
but I know the person I want to become.

I want to be rich,
like mother teresa's heart of gold,
like the iridiscent colours in sunshine-eyes.

I want to be poor,
like the beggar who appreciates any scrap of food,
like the bankrupt who eventually learns to count his blessings.

I want to be quiet.
Like the introvert who wishes she wasn't so,
like the girl who meets her boyfriend's parents for the first time.

I want to be loud,
like the drunkard who casually spits out truth,
like the pounding club music that makes my head hurt.

I want to be nothing,
like how the girl who doesn't belong anywhere is treated,
like how a guy who's afraid of commitment denies your relationship.

I want to be everything.
Like the atoms our entire physical world is constructed out of,
like the girl who's your first pill of the morning
and last of the night.

I want to be weak,
like professor xavier, who's too kind for his own good and can't walk.
like the flimsy piece of paper that caused your paper cut.

I want to be strong,
like professor xavier, who can control people with his mind,
like how it feels to be reminded that you're needed and loved.

I want to be a bundle of contradictions.
Rich yet poor,
quiet yet loud,
everything but nothing,
weak but strong.
Well, maybe I don't.

Or maybe I already am.

My palms are cold and ******
Your name stains my tongue
I prefer sleeping with my eyes open
Bloodshot eyes and boiling skin
I can’t believe they let you out
Randy, Was it worth the laugh
Does my blood still stain your hands
Do you close your eyes and remember me
I want you to feel the pain you drove into my veins
The smile you craved into my brain stains my teeth
My smile likes yours I no longer know myself
My childhood smells of tears and blood
But all you cared about was a rub and some ***
Using a woman as your toys, you see them as objects
You see me as an object no longer will I be yours
Randy, was it worth the laugh you had that night
Before the cops came and shocked your night
Shocked your life and made your night a living hell.
My brain still screams in agony at the sight of your name.

a crumpled milk carton
discarded...fallen
in the gutter, another
black and white photograph

a tooth fairy smile-
something missing,..

a coldness
from the shuttered window
in the shadows
of a quiet day
...Xavier doesn't play here anymore.

r ~ 8/17/14

The silent planet of crystallized dreams

Nebula clouds emitting translucency

Nothing is ever what is seems

With God’s touch and delicacy



The song that remains and forever played

Amongst the promised womb before

The mother goddess loved and swayed

While the child watches from the hallway door



“Mother and father copulating with the door open.”

Read the words on the off-white typewriter paper

The boy tedious and tired, working and hoping

His work be acclaimed before meeting his maker



Telling stories of psychopath magicians in Long Island

Or Chicago lawyers fighting underground matches in drag

“A disturbing, fantastic point-of-view, from a ****** man”

Said one critic before nitpicking as reading a greasy pulp mag



Countless images worth their weight in gold

Majestic ballrooms ravishing supple choirs

Groping masked ballerinas with a urge so bold

Witty fops and serving props aiding proper sires

Sir Xavier proclaiming the night as a celebration

Showing sharpened teeth behind his mask

The shadows merging and demonstrating mutilation

With enough wine to soak, bathe and bask



The man breathed in exhaustion. He cracked his fingers and wrote:



“Circles of Blood, of **** and pain.

    Audacious institutions praising the Goat Head of Fame

                    Vicious clowns of chains and leather sought to cleanse the mind

                             The flesh and struggle that was kindled at the discovery of Gabriel’s find

                                      Stiffening, hardening clay over roots and glands

                                      The skin of earth ravaged from birth

                                      Yes men and polished conveyor belt twins

                                      Nodding, prodding and smirking

                                      Evicting and molesting the commonwealth

                                      The taxpayers and voters

                                      The people, new and old

                             Sewing fishing line into us

                   Like strings to puppets

          Severing wings

Denying us flight

          Expecting us to fight

                   With blank expressions

                             And

                   Collective motives

                             Because we should all think the same

                                      While in the jungles of Vietnam

                                                The cities of Korea

                                                          Deserts of Iraq

                                                                   Caves of Afghanistan

                                                                             Or

                                                                   Anyplace our leaders

                                                          Mispronounce

                                                What is to gain if not

                                      Something profitable?

                                                Thieves condemning thieves  

                                                Murders judging murders

                                                Psychopaths killed for killing

                                      Women ***** and thrown into a

    guilt trip for not keeping a child that

    was forced into them, saying the

    will of God is infallible.

    Children without homes suffer for what they are

              While more populate the world with their own

              Before helping the needy


The names of the world

          The foundations built upon on another

The empires envisioned and dreamt

          Destined for glory and prosperity

Then torn down in the cataclysmic volley of change

          Then the cycle, the circle, is repeated again

          This is how the world functions

In the name of one

Or many

Or God

Or even the Gods

The Circles, the rings and arena.”





The man wrote with the typewriter on top of books and clippings

Watching riots outside his window, bottle of liquid fire exploding

Screams of terror, of revolt and damnation drippings

Calling out for all to see, the fury and loathing



What the man wanted to write was a simply story to tell

But his rising emotions took hold of his fingers

Instead, he told a story of malicious passivity in living hell

Where in his room the fumes of gas lingers



What if on other places in space

Where we’ve discovered other Earth-like planets

God Created different forms of humans

And watched how they grew

In their own way

Eliminating one previous flaw from the next

Till there was no conflict



If he did and kept doing that

Till he had the perfect human

Then there would be no more

And just God again.

Mystic moons and puppy dragon tales
Silver oceans with crystal silk sails

Frozen lakes above the stone angel choir

Marble pianos soothed by fingers of fire

(Pentagon E-ring office—executive officer knocks & enters—General motions him in)

XO,
Explain
examinees...

                              Examinee
                              X-11,
                              Xander
                              Xanakis

Experience?

                              Explosives
                              expert.
                              Ex-Army.
                              Executive
                              experience

Exam?

                              Exceptional

Excellent!

                              Excessive

Exessive?
Explain

                              Extreme
                              xenophobe

(expletive)
Exclude

                              Examinee
                              X-12...

Xavier
Xanthopoulos...

Experience?

                             Expert—
                             extraction,
                             exfiltration.
                             Ex-Navy,
                             Executive
                             Experience

Exam?

                             Excelled

                             Extracuricular
                             extras...

Explain

                             Expat,
                             X-games,
                             xylophone...

Expat?

                             Xalapa

(chuckling)
X-games,
xylophone—
(laughs)
X-Factor!

                             (XO nods his head, smiling)

Xenophobic?

                             (shaking head)
                             Xenodochial.
                             Exeptionally
                             xenophilic!

Expectations?

                             Exceeds
                             Expectations

Excellent!

XO,
exclude
examinee
X-11...

                              Excluding
                              Xander
                              Xanakis

Expedite
Xavier
Xanthopoulos

                              Expediting
                              examinee
                              X-12

XO,
excused

                               (XO exits)



© 2020 by Mark Toney.  All rights reserved.

it was an anaphora. repeated with repent over and over again. my skin blistered when you thought that heating a metal rod was the way to smoke insomnia away. im stained with regrets, stained with your thoughts, stained with you. red wasn't my color and i wasn't yours. seeing you peel my skin away with a broken bottle set my matches volatile. you made me feel intolerable. looking at a compressed chest and empty lower half wasn't anyone's ideal. seeing you in the mirror was sickening but my throat was burned with the taste of mercury and my hands were covered in biocide. you chopped my head off and let me loose in the tennis courts and i ate braille for breakfast. i became malleable and slitting my throat was to the answer c as was my tongue growing a mouth to the dead bird in the drain. my room was stripped, skin diminished, a phase so to speak dispersed along with my security. forgotten like the gum on a shoe, i scraped my ears clean with barbed wire and drowned everyone's mind with a plate of malaise - i was gone but here at the same time.

I never thought I would be a teacher,
even if I am an assistant teacher, I am
helping to shape the minds and spirits
of my students.

I teach students with autism, and sometimes
I wish I was like Professor Xavier and that I could read the
minds of the kids I work with, who are a mystery
to me.

I don't have mutant powers, but I do have the
capacity to love.  I learned and honed the skills
of listening to my heart at L'Arche, which is
often called the school of the heart.

I do my best to learn the lesson plans and provide
reinforcements for positive behavior, but
mostly as I engage my students I pray a simple
prayer of "Thank you. I love you."

My students are not a cumilation of data, facts,
and their diagnoses.  Each one of us including
me has value, because of the breadth of life of the Creator.

Divine presence, may I treat each child with love and
with an open heart, so I may give and receive.
May I teach and be taught lessons of the heart
from my students. Thank you. I love you.

Life and the giver of life,
west, positive balance,
too hot to handle too cold to hold.

My research *****,
be here now,
not enough memory.

Needs a psychiatrist--
the womb--
the name of the grey aliens.

I am scared!
Scared of this world

Robert Godwin Sr
Alyssa Elsman

How many more have to die?
By my kind,
By their kind,
Because they blame some other kind
What ever happened to just being
kind?

Daniel Parmertor, Russell King, Jr., Demetrius Hewlin

Where were you when the World Trade Center went down?
It’s something everyone alive then will always remember
Never Forget! was our brand motto for American Pride

Krystle Marie Campbell, Lü Lingzi, Martin William Richard, Sean A. Collier, Dennis Simmonds

And now, the death of another is so commonplace
That we forget what and where.
It’s no longer personal enough to register where in our lives that it struck us
Only note that another life has been struck down
Add another tally to the equation
And still it does not add up

Trayvon Martin
Tamir Rice
Samuel DuBose
Delrawn Small
Philando Castile
Terence Crutcher
Heather Heyer

We are completely desensitized
And decentralized
We keep ourselves disconnected
(because we just can’t absorb,
Take,
Process it all)
It’s not us
It’s not me
It’s somebody else
Somewhere else.
Until it is
Then we care
How much can we take, before we break

Cynthia Marie Graham Hurd, Susie Jackson, Ethel Lee Lance, Depayne Middleton Doctor, Clementa C. Pinckney, Tywanza Sanders, Daniel Simmons, Sharonda Coleman Singleton, Myra Thompson

The tragedy is the comedy
We laugh so we don’t cry
Sakia Gunn
Richie Phillips
Nireah Johnson, Brandie Coleman
Glenn Kopitske
Scotty Joe Weaver
Jason Gage
Michael Sandy
Sean William Kennedy
Duanna Johnson
Lawrence "Larry" King
Angie Zapata
Lateisha Green
****** August Provost, III
Mark Carson

I can’t say I’ve never thought of committing violence.
Hell, when my ex-wife cheated, it occurred to me
And I can’t say that I have never hit another
I’ve been a kid
My whole life is designed just to grow up
But, I’ve thought of killing myself far more often than the thought to harm anyone else have ever occurred to me
Because my problems are mine;
My fault,
And I am not seeking some scapegoat

Keenya Cook, Jerry Taylor, Million A. Woldemariam, Claudine Parker, Hong Im Ballenge, James Martin, James L. Buchanan, Premkumar Walekar, Sarah Ramos, Lori Ann Lewis-Rivera, Pascal Charlot, Dean Harold Meyers, Kenneth Bridges, Linda Franklin née Moore, Jeffrey Hopper, Conrad Johnson, 1 unnamed victim

I am not going to deny that being a white male hasn’t allowed me to sidestep a whole level of *******
One day, angry white males will be the minority
And we’ll have no one left to blame, but ourselves.
If we don’t **** everyone first
If we don’t **** ourselves first

Michael Arnold, Martin Bodrog, Arthur Daniels, Sylvia Frasier, Kathy Gaarde, John Roger Johnson, Mary Francis Knight, Frank Kohler, Vishnu Pandit, Kenneth Bernard Proctor, Gerald Read, Richard Michael Ridgell

Jonathan Blunk, Alexander J. Boik , Jesse Childress, Gordon Cowden,
Jessica Ghawi, John Larimer, Matt McQuinn, Micayla Medek, Veronica Moser Sullivan, Alex Sullivan, Alexander C. Teves, Rebecca Wingo

The earth has already decided that we are a plague upon it
Maybe climate change is the natural response to the abuse of our gifts

Nancy Lanza, Rachel D'Avino, Dawn Hochsprung, Anne Marie Murphy,
Lauren Rousseau, Mary Sherlach, Victoria Leigh Soto, Charlotte Bacon, Daniel Barden, Olivia Engel, Josephine Gay, Dylan Hockley, Madeleine Hsu, Catherine Hubbard, Chase Kowalski, Jesse Lewis, Ana Márquez Greene, James Mattioli, Grace McDonnell, Emilie Parker, Jack Pinto, Noah Pozner, Caroline Previdi, Jessica Rekos, Avielle Richman, Benjamin Wheeler, Allison Wyatt

What is this world going to teach my son?
That he’s better because of how he looks?
Or what I’ve taught him:
You make yourself better.

Jamie Bishop, Jocelyne Couture Nowak, Kevin Granata, Liviu Librescu,  P
G. V. Loganathan, Ross Alameddine, Brian Bluhm, Ryan Clark, Austin Cloyd, Daniel Perez Cueva, Matthew Gwaltney, Caitlin Hammaren, Jeremy Herbstritt, Rachael Hill, Emily Hilscher, Matthew La Porte, Jarrett Lane, Henry Lee, Partahi Lumbantoruan, Lauren McCain, Daniel O'Neil, Juan Ortiz, Minal Panchal, Erin Peterson, Michael Pohle Jr., Julia Pryde, Mary Karen Read, Reema Samaha, Waleed Shaalan, Leslie Sherman, Maxine Turner, Nicole White

I work as a data analyst
So, I ran the numbers
But, these are more than numbers
These are people: sons, daughters, sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, friends, lovers.

Stanley Almodovar III, Amanda Alvear, Oscar A. Aracena Montero, Rodolfo Ayala Ayala, Alejandro Barrios Martinez, Martin Benitez Torres, Antonio D. Brown, Darryl R. Burt II, Jonathan A. Camuy Vega, Angel L. Candelario Padro, Simon A. Carrillo Fernandez, Juan Chevez Martinez, Luis D. Conde, Cory J. Connell, Tevin E. Crosby, Franky J. DeJesus Velazquez, Deonka D. Drayton, Mercedez M. Flores, Juan R. Guerrero, Peter O. Gonzalez Cruz, Paul T. Henry, Frank Hernandez, Miguel A. Honorato, Javier Jorge Reyes, Jason B. Josaphat, Eddie J. Justice, Anthony L. Laureano Disla, Christopher A. Leinonen, Brenda L. Marquez McCool, Jean C. Mendez Perez, Akyra Monet Murray, Kimberly Morris, Jean C. Nives Rodriguez, Luis O. Ocasio Capo, Geraldo A. Ortiz Jimenez, Eric I. Ortiz Rivera, Joel Rayon Paniagua, Enrique L. Rios Jr., Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan, Christopher J. Sanfeliz, Xavier E. Serrano Rosado, Gilberto R. Silva Menendez, Edward Sotomayor Jr., Shane E. Tomlinson, Leroy Valentin Fernandez, Luis S. Vielma, Luis D. Wilson Leon, Jerald A. Wright

I did research to try to find all the victims since I became abruptly aware 16 years ago
There are too many
I could not discover a single database that contained a comprehensive record
No one can keep track of it anymore
I know I’ve missed people
I know there are 1000’s of people now missing people
Even 1 was too much

Hannah Ahlers, Heather Alvarado, Dorene Anderson, Carrie Barnette, Jack Beaton, Steve Berger, Candice Bowers, Denise Salmon Burditus, Sandra Casey, Andrea Castilla, Denise Cohen, Austin Davis, Virginia Day Jr, Christiana Duarte, Stacee Etcheber, Brian Fraser, Keri Galvan,  Dana Gardner, Angela Gomez, Rocio Guillen Rocha, Charleston Hartfield,  Chris Hazencomb, Jennifer Irvine, Nicol Kimura, Jessica Klymchuk, Carly Kreibaum, Rhonda LeRocque, Victor Link, Jordan McIldoon, Kelsey Meadows, Calla Medig, James ‘Sonny’ Melton, Pati Mestas, Austin Meyer, Adrian Murfitt, Rachael Parker, Jennifer Parks, Carrie Parsons, Lisa Patterson,  John Phippen, Melissa Ramirez, Jordyn Rivera, Quinton Robbins, Cameron Robinson, Lisa Romero Muniz, Christopher Roybal, Brett Schwanbeck, Bailey Schweitzer, Laura Shipp, Erick Silva, Susan Smith, Tara Roe Smith, Brennan Stewart, Derrick ‘Bo’ Taylor, Neysa Tonks, Michelle Vo, Kurt Von Tillow, Bill Wolfe Jr.

and NOW I’ve run out of lines and time to read off all 2,977 people who died in 9-11
Isn’t that a tragedy?

Rio can have its lava lamp spectacular,
i have my Van der Graaf Generator,
studying lightning and brainwaves
(the **** you can find on suburban streets -
as they say: the best things are for free);
trees and roots upside-and-out akin to branches
stretching for the paparazzi tropism -
wannabe junkies through and through the U.V.
glittering additions.

Damocles and global warming;
it's hanging, a birth of the guillotine -
America is armed, give it a sneeze
and the public will be ready for an insurrection,
we basically marched back to the 1960s
without a Martin Luther or a Malcolm X...
people are testifying a need for leadership,
the C.I.A. and F.B.I. are on the prowl
to subdue it... if this was the ice age
i'd eat you, ******... i got bored
of chicken, let's see what you taste like;
the revision of Damocles' sword hanging over
all of us... believe me, the Arabs are fine,
they can stand this kind of heat,
they'll fry us all on a Ferrari sports-car revs
from that carbon monoxide **** ****** at
for brain damage and a ***** **** under a niqab;
me? i'm as politically correct as politicians
are on a Wednesday in Parliament during the P.M.'s
questions: ridiculous, ridiculing, ergo double
agitated... take your defence of apathy elsewhere,
into your safe-circle and dance me the ******* tango
while shadow boxing. i'm as politically correct
as the prime minister and as much as the shadow;
pulpit plonker of Peckham that was needed as a
plumbing pecker of assured speech getting the job done.

this is the revised version of b.m.i.,
i vouch like a scout that my personal library
weighs more than my body,
******, i'd eat you, no questions asked;
i'd eat you, the corpus christi curse right back at you,
Moses was a former army general,
he exploded outside of society,
Christ the Redeemer was catching carrier pigeons
by clapping inside society, the effects
came later, Grecian,
only an enriched literary civilisation could have
made profane remarks about the Jews...
what with Plato et al., the four gospels
really did miscarry the treasures of the tetragrammmaton,
that's the only Jesus bit i don't like,
well, it's pretty much all of the Jesus bit -
attacking religious figures like Elijah and the Baal priests,
he attacked but the religious cults under the Romans
flourished... then came the northern invaders of Rome
not really bothered by what the Greek wrote...
**** is this?! the **** is this?! you forget they lost
the runes and said: well Latin is the *******
for encoding hush and sepia, let's keep it,
start afresh, keep the coliseum rotting.
so much for human rights: chop the head off
and long live Charles I... keep him rotting in a cell
and you're inventing zoology, hardly human...
most men would rather the chop-off than the chaining...
vegetables in 2 cubic metres, hardly human...
**** it, most are like: end it, quick! don't make me
a loiter with my crimes... but of course the sadists won
and things collected dust...
the story was: don't read books, write something
original... Gaza strip would make the perfect novel
archetype -but subsequently loose your human empathy
allowance - somehow finding it in Oxford, half-******
and half-the-time missing the plot, to no one's bother.

yes, b.m.i. (book mind index), all that god is dead got me
thinking while we're obsessing about diets and
eating vegetarians... **** me, ain't i the cannibal tonight?
Rio... it's all Rio's fault... the ******* lava lamp and my
prize for going to buy the spirit of St. Paul's cathedral **** -
my own, van der Graaf generator -
along with the band, all classic **** given prog rock
introspection done by the one famous magazine Mojo -
no, not mojito - jackal, joke, jumper, jazzy,
south american ha or the Mexican Xavier's achoo cha ha cha
(i admit, Michael Jackson's version of: pope checks whether a choir
boy is castrated to sing the high-notes).

well, the plan is to drink yourself to death -
**** this place and **** it twice over if i am the spaghetti
with a chance of meatball genius to save it -
i'm not a coward, i'm just practical... the dinosaurs never
had so many paradoxes running through them
when Michelangelo did the meteor sequence,
after the Welsh and the Chinese intuitively drew dragons.

this is is the perfect time to be loners and childless -
it's a time when death and god is clearly explained,
but an en masse suicide pact is harder, unless you express
human pride and human vanity as the sourcing secret -
i did a mini course on sustainability beneath my
prime: chemistry at Edinburgh... can i say it was like
g.c.s.e. history? any idiot could do it.

or as was the case with political correctness with the recent
attacks in London - the English uber way of saying it
politely, they're campaigning for a loss of stigmata in
this branch of medicine that, for some strange ******* reason,
everyone gets involved and is suddenly a ******* expert -
i don't know how many ordinary civilians
claim to have degrees in psychology... too many by my count.
all those campaigns to relieve the stigmas on mental health
in order to "keep the public united" after such attacks
simply back-fired - like everyone depressed or anxious
would simply slit some stranger's throat, because
of a "history" - no amount of eloquent cover-ups will discourage
people from seeing what they see, media freedom allows
for per se manipulation - shadow-people tricks -
the other form of spying.
if it wasn't a terrorist plot why mention the Somali heritage?
could just have said he was Norwegian...
so whatever campaigns there were to ease the stigma
surrounding mental health issues just backfired -
only to keep the ethnic divisions intact in the agglomerate
of social cohesion - to be honest, mental health isn't
even a medical concern... it's a political tool for
exploiting harsh scenarios - and this
medical schism is pretty much akin to
the Sunni v. Shia division in Islam - or the 1054
great schism; i have absolutely no idea why or how
it happened, or when... but this isn't a religious topic,
it's a medical schism, and i'm assuming the anglophone
world is primarily prone to it... as an outside i have
my unique perspective... this isn't religion... it's medicine
for crying out-loud!

are these psychologists and quasi and alter counterparts
prescribing medication like penny-sweets?!
because they ******* are! humanists that have no right
to prescribe medication, but merely talk...
oh wait... didn't i hear some cultural critic write that
words are nothing? so we communicating in ******* Braille then?
words are the primary data imprints we all need,
i'm not writing in a language to make it my own -
but there this massive schism in medicine at the moment,
somehow not reading philosophy in western society
never got to grips with Cartesian materialisation
of i think into i am - i can answer for that -
mental illnesses are subtler than a leg infested with
gangrene - but they're still physical ailments -
obviously not as rainbow as a gangrene, but there can't
be a schism, because too many amateurs and sadists will
exploit the schism... there's also the necessary claim
for thinking and being to reach the ergo equilibrium -
by unnecessarily treating a thinking pattern
that does not really deviate into stabbing someone
will only encourage all this proto Narcissistic crap...
and you'd think that polytheism died under the 21 grams
worth of certainty that the soul exists with monotheism...
that's the strength of Greek polytheism
(and Indian polytheism, i.e. it didn't adopt a monotheism),
meaning that it's philosophical background ensured
that the revision of Hebraic in its hands gained so much
popularity as Christianity - but Narcissus is a telescope
to introspect - i blame Narcissus for the medical schism
we're now experiencing - mental health and the imaginary
fifth limb.

this schism is the result of subduing religion -
at first it was a wise move, i admit that i wouldn't
want to be on the Inquisition rack -
but when violence was perpetrated on us
we held a stealth belief that it would end -
but after we internalised this violence
there seems to be no end; another schism
was bound to pop up somewhere, i'd never think
it would be in the medical category:
due to the failures of reading philosophy,
bypassing Kant, phenomenology and the existentialists
to simply write a profit-banking book:
philosophy for dummies (+ ****** et al.).

I love you
I love you
I ******* love you
You make me so angry

But this is a poem about you
And what makes you wonderful
The way your voice changes
And how you eat my cold nose

From the way you hold me tightly and take away my breath
To the way you claim me as your property and put your hand on my chest

You hold your ground
Like an unmoving, untiring tree
Straight from the earth
All the way to your own stars

My energy fights to beat yours
It always has been a competition
Who can love the other more?

baby butch in the bathroom, splotched with shaving cream
using dad's razor to shave what's barely even there on their jaw
baby butch in the bathroom, shirt off and defiant
(though alone who's there to see it)
(them that's who)
washing his feet and their armpits and her face

baby butch on the sidewalk, leather jacket wrapped around them/him, internal bravado daring everyone
not to look at him/them
baby butch in the hallway at school, laughing loud and pitching voice low
no one can know
but why not act how you want to
baby butch in the classroom, slouching in their seat, knees braced against opposite legs of the desk
carefully lazy
legs so tense

baby butch on the internet
finally telling
saying CALL ME THIS CALL ME THEY CALL ME HE
AND THEN CALL ME YOURS
she did. he is.
it's too soon. but he is.
baby butch in the background, scrawling out words
they. he. xavier. baby butch. king ****.
alive.
alive.
alive and living.

Purity is something your body once knew
When you met me your lips were sealed
That night our skin touched purity was filled with sin
You made me feel as though my body was a temple only meant to be seen by you
Which was only the truth, you watched me every night as my head hit the pillow
Sleeping was the only way I could be away from you.

Gabrielle Union wore a gorgeous fall look in New York City while promoting her show, Being Mary Jane, on Tuesday.

The 42-year-old looked like a vision in her fitted white Sophia Kah dress with crimson lace overlay, as she was spotted leaving Live With Kelly and Michael.

The short-sleeved frock featured intricate detailing on the upper portion, while the bottom half was all white.

The skintight dress, which showed off the Think Like a Man star's amazing body, fit her like a glove.

The pop of color from the wine-colored lace added a bold touch to an otherwise minimal look.

The Bring It On actress kept the bold vibes going by choosing shiny gold heels, which added a new dimension to the look.

She added gold rings to compliment her similarly hued strappy heels with gray polished nails.

The Being Mary Jane star wore her shoulder length dark hair loose and wavy.

Opting for a more vampy makeup look, the starlet wore smokey eye shadow, glossy red lips and rosy cheeks.

During her appearance on the morning show, the She's All That actress wore a more understated look, rocking gray slacks, a black top and bright pink heels as she spoke to Michael Strahan and guest host Ciara, who filled in for Kelly Ripa.

The brunette is married to NBA star Dwayne Wade, who plays for the Miami Heat. The couple first met in 2009 and married in August 2014.

Her husband has three sons: 13-year-old Zaire Blessing Dwayne, eight-year-old Zion Malachi Airamis and two-year-old Xavier Zechariah, from previous relationships.

The 33-year-old athlete also raises his 13-year-old nephew Dahveon.

On her show, she plays the character Mary Jane Paul, an on-camera reporter who has to juggle work, love and family.

The third season of Being Mary Jane premieres on October 20th on BET.

The starlet is also currently filming The Lion Guard, an animated TV series where she voices the character of Nala, set to premiere on the Disney Channel in 2016. She recently wrapped The Lion Guard: Return of the Roar TV movie, which premieres this November.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/****-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/vintage-formal-dresses

tweet my injustice
Let's all us combustus
and fritter away french fries
from the local till us nuts

Freakin' Friday
Meek and Nigh may
take away the saltines from the
mouths of youths
and put a large bass in my
kissing booth

I am Xavier
I am Charles
I once supposited a pack of
Marlboro's
Shamus mc ****, Batman
the 'copter's on down furrows