Season of Changes

I have had a near-death experience, and have given up alcohol as a result.

I am frightened more by what my life had become, than I was by the NDE its-self.

All I can do is try to make dignified progression, there would be no use in wallowing in negativity.

I am glad to be alive.

It is my responsibility to change, now. I don't know how or when my decline began. I am feeling awed by the awful magnitude of it all.

I am awed with gratitude at the grace of living.

"Playing Favourites"

- Playing Favourites -

Will the next one be pretty? 

Or the worst ugly monster? 

Will the next really care, 

if you happened to die?

Would the next give a toss, 

or keep all-night vigils, 

would they serve up, 

for your sustenance, 

their flesh and their soul?

The next might be a demon, 

no sense of affection, 

pure possession desired 

and no remorse for deeds done or planned. 

The next might do anything, living the dream, 

taking what they want, and giving nothing back - 

I know the thoughts of the next one, 

a hypothetical new favourite, 

because I have lived with her inside of me. 

I have lived with a ravening demoness, 

truth is, she's just my desire to be desired, 

but her quarry, her target, her victim... 

should beware his next favourite, 

and the next, and the next...

- NB - This is art, not confession of murder plots, compris vous? My 'Victim' is safe from me. These are not the 'droids you are looking for. 

Interesting Times.

8 am. Awake. Heh.

A bit over a year since its inception, my terrible all-consuming obsession with dear Severus it wearing off a little. It's partly due to the processes of time on infatuation with no real-life target, and partly due to me telling the spirits of madness to fuck right off.