2017 pictoral


keeping sane is a job in itself. 

Advertisements

Noise

flailing under weighted blankets with the world’s sniggering vitriol dampening my resolve which never was up to it anyway like everything else or everyone I’ve known, few as they may be, and diminished by time and the noise of my tentacled senses holding me under, I can’t breathe. 

Release me. 

What… The… Furr… [huh?]

“Torrey also noticed reports that schizophrenia rates rose in the United States the same year cat ownership became popular, a fact that has led researchers to look into Toxoplasma gondii, a parasite that cats transmit to humans. It’s not harmful to everyone – though it appears to make those who harbor it more sexually aggressive.”

Infectious Madness: The Surprising Science of How We ‘Catch’ Mental Illness, by Harriet A Washington

The Guardian Article: My Cat Really is Trying to Kill Me

Article I stumbled upon.

Meow

You Can’t Hide or Run From IT

You think being
bothered by your “friend”
With their demands
and having to deal
with the complex
(or whatever they are)
emotions of another
human beings trials
and tribulations is a
big deal?

well you’ve got another
thing coming when this
gravy train of uninterrupted
Isolation runs out of tracks

You’ve got another
Thing coming

The grown up world
Will eat you the fuck up

Worse yet; there’s
No way of coming to
Terms with it

Reality is all about
Experience first
And then deal with it

Don’t be yourself.
You’re nervous right
Now, thinking about
It. Anxious and filled
With dread.
Don’t be yourself.

Nobody’s going to
Save you.
Nothing’s going to
Stop the encroaching
Sharp objects of life

You’re thinking death.
It’s so much easier
Than everything else
Just be somebody else

Hope as hard as you
Can that you’re even
Capable of being
Anything other than
What you are
What you Have been…
Try or, Face the possibility
Of… Failing life.
Fail life and life will
Eject you.

Operation Be Somebody Else
Because who you are just
Cannot handle it and will
Never be able to handle it.

Commence…

Do, not, be, your, self.

Confessions of a Muteful Hater: Not For Under 18z

Some may describe me as quiet and as one who does not stir up manure no matter the situation or circumstance and they wouldn’t be wrong in their observations as I am for the most part a placid little fucker

But there’s a particularly dark corner of my psyche in which hate and anger glows hot with excited indignation at all things alive or inanimate

Don’t tell me it’s my grandmother’s birthday, don’t ask if “I know how to warm” certain food because the microwave is crocked (I wasn’t born yesteryear)

Don’t make assumptions; don’t tell me you’re “sticking to your own truth” (for fucks sake what the hell does that mean??? Are there two thousand truths and you’re the ring leader of this idiocracy?) – Fuck off.

At times I feel guilt about my private little explosions because their content is so vile they would leave many a anger-therapists in a coma of disbelief

(mind you all of this rage is kept inside); I curse and curse and curse and wish the most vile things would befall those around me and politicians most especially (next to pedo’s and rapists, and general thieves)

I Hate with greater passion than I Love. One could say I love not at all. But oh hate; yes, I can taste it on the tip of my tongue.

When I was cheated on; I imagined things which have burnt a picture in my head to this day about my former lover (although I am without resentment towards the cheater now)
It is, admittedly, a good thing that all of this volcanic ire remains within.

I’d be a vile creature (much like those I despise) were it anywhere else.

[All things considered. I’m a full blown Humanist] ( 😀 )