Winners Don't Shiver

I don’t deny I shiver. When the cold shower sprays down my neck, I turn the faucet over and increase the intensity of the cold temperature. It makes me feel awake. It’s like a thousand knives stabbing into my

body, and truly introduces meaning into the phrase “mind over body” and I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t still tied to the carnal, the part that seeks comfort & warmth. But I do it anyway.

Transcendence is a word that was introduced into my brain by the local black magician Diabolus Rex, magus of the Chaos Imperium. I never believed there was something “out there.” But in his interviews I’ve never been so thoroughly informed about the Left-Hand Path in a form that I instinctually understood through personal verification and plain understanding of what I’ve read. I think the inertia of sexuality determines spirituality, in the direction of this force. Dedicating your Qi to things beyond the flesh, brings brightness into your eyes in an unspeakable way. There are no words to describe this phenomena, it is beyond definition or mathematical calculation. The thing that is important to understand is that individual choices have importance.

I think it was Aleister Crowley who said that every act, intention, is a magical act.

Little by little, I turn the faucet a little bit colder. In these days I find cutting to be despicable, and I think physical fitness is the path to true development. Both methods are the same, accomplishing the purpose of catharsis by inflicting pain, but one will leave you weaker and the other stronger. There is the deepest level of respect for the U.S. Navy Seals in my soul, facing death in their training sessions. 

In the darkest dawn, turning in push-ups in the fierce dark beach finding strength through pain. Not to mention they are the first responders to an urgent “diplomatic” mission. Their brutality leaves them with the option to shiver internally only. It’s the desire to overcome and push beyond physical limitations to protect.

There’s pride in me sucking off strong men, but it is difficult quenching the thirst of obliterating the desolate and weak. The tearing of flesh, destroying skinny bones in desperate thirst to obliterate decadence

in the garden of Darwin and to continue the paint it has coated over the plants and nature. I’m desperate for competition, seeking those stronger than I am. In fact, I praise them. I thirst for the more intelligent, to be impacted and obtain virtue through force. To look into the eyes of a man better than me and force him to bow.

In the direction of this force, I’m desperate for competition. I seek those stronger than I am, in fact I praise them. The plants, the animals, that inner instinct that transcends and penetrates through the nothingness into a defined being.

I opened the shower curtain and looked directly into the mirror, and just like the instinct of a boy kissing a girl for the first time I unconsciously raised my arms like a dying corpse on a cross and insultingly looked into the mirror. It was blasphemous. This unholy frown was too intense to be incorrectly seen as the mocking & duplicitous smile it was intended to be; I became shocked.

This look looked scary but divine.

There’s something in it that was truly beautiful, but it felt like cutting into my own personal spirit. It felt wrong.

I felt it.

I’ve been numb to the presence of things in the beyond that I’ve felt cutting others, or following this philosophy, is the only path to being in touch with the divine. But I think instead of looking for this thing outside, I’m forced to admit that I shiver in the cold water. There’s soldiers that finish and pass their tests, but do not finish in perfection. I shiver. Just like push-up that is imperfect.

There’s always going to be limitations in life, this is the direct purpose under which you were designed for. It won’t ever happen - pushing beyond the divine, but I understand transgression. I’m not interested in doing that look in the mirror again. He was someone who understood that people fuck up on their test. It is intelligent to understand pain because injury differentiates from discernment. It’s direct perception that instructs, but it is subjective and inevitably you’re going to fuck up. There's objective judgement.

I shiver.

But I turn the cold water temperature colder, because I want to learn and go to church.

Day of the Dead

"Sing a hymn for the dead, because in death as in life, we are one in the same. Sing a hymn for the world, to avert eugenic errors, go!" - Anti Flag

If there was a child still left in me, he would be praying to make those lyrics come back to life. But the truth is that with age and experience you begin to see the world for the way that it truly is - a violent struggle for resources. This is not limited to physical war, within society Social Darwinism thrives everywhere, from your local bank or the coffee shop down the street.

It makes me sick to the stomach that we are forced to conform to standards of a corporation and allow them to twist and destroy our psyche to turn out profit, and if I am destined to be enslaved by an entity, I damn well sure want to check all of my options.

People object to military service because they are afraid of death, but most fail to realize that you cannot escape death - it is all around you. What's to stop cancer from infecting your body, or the sharp steel of a car crash plundering into your skin?

Then there are pacifists who object to war because they do not like conflict. What's to stop you from causing conflict here in the civilian world? Are you not purchasing products that contribute to corporations that have more power than most world nations? Are you not paying taxes which contribute to the military–industrial complex? Do you not wish ill on whomever wishes to take your romantic partner? If you apply for a job, do you care about the other applicants lives?

Man is a beast of prey, history proves that man is a beast of prey.

I'm just ahead of the curve.

Somewhere In Afghanistan; 30.OCT.12.

We sent another one home in a bag. He was so close to packing his bag. He’d probably already bought plane tickets home for Christmas. He wasn’t one of mine, I didn’t know him. One of my guys did...

I didn’t find out until the ceremony. I’d noticed he was in a scratchier mood than usual, but I hadn’t made the connection. He stood in front of me in the formation. When the colonel stood to speak I saw the skin on his neck turn bright pink. He hung his head for the benediction and never raised it. One of my squad leaders laid a hand on his shoulder. The colonel kept talking.

I stood in the back with the same pensive, grit-toothed expression I’ve been wearing for months. The colonel was talking, but I wasn’t listening. Nevermind that he isn’t an engaging speaker. He didn’t know the deceased. He doesn’t know any of us. He calls me “bud” because he doesn’t know my name. He doesn’t even like me. I’ve lead my boys all over Hell’s Acre at his beckon, and if I were sent home in a Ziploc tomorrow he wouldn’t have one thing to say at my bullshit ceremony.

That gave me pause.

I haven’t called my mother, I realized.

Not once this whole tour. The woman worships the ground I walk on, and all she asks for in return is a phone call. She gets a sparing e-mail. Maybe two or three sentences. What is there for me to say? I have no other family to speak of. None that I keep in contact with. I’m just a blurb to them. Oh, yes. He’s ‘over there’. 

I have friends from college that don’t know where the Hell I am. They e-mail me out of the blue to ask if I’m in the States. They don’t know if I’m in New York or Georgia, Washington, Oregon, Colorado. Kandahar. It doesn’t matter. That isn’t because they don’t keep up. It’s because I don’t tell anyone.

They wouldn’t have known until I had been scattered on the side of some shitty dirt road. My personal affects would have been gathered up and shipped home. My gear would have been rat-fucked by anyone who could get their hands on it. Fifty-Fifty chance that my unpaid allowances would have been taxed for the cost of some lost piece of equipment or another. Something blown into the weeds by ammonium nitrate and shrapnel.

The colonel would have privately asked my peers what to say. They would look at each other and shrug. We have nothing in common. We don’t really talk. Or they think I’m a prick.

None of that matters. It doesn’t change who I am. It doesn’t change the facts of my life. If I lived every day for the opinions of others, I would be one more boring, well-liked person. Survived by too many, with too much to lose.

A few days after the ceremony, the colonel came down to talk to the company officers. He crammed us into a little office and gave a quiet monologue about how we do so much of the work with so little thanks. He gave us each coins and shook our hands and that was it.

Battalion coins. Also-Ran prizes.

He still doesn’t like when I look him in the eye. I looked at the number on the thing. It had to be one of the last in the batch. I tossed the coin in my footlocker with my socks and t-shirts and forgot about it. I found later that the unit had a glut of them. The command team were giving them away left and right.

No one is going to ask how many battalion coins I earned when they scatter my ashes. They will want to know, at my wake, why the casket is closed.

Original article: http://www.fkinonline.com/2012/10/29/somewhere-in-afghanistan-30-oct-12/

The End of the Beginning

Chaos is the color of my distorted and compulsive negative thoughts, but I never fail to fight and not let them take me over. There's simply too many ideas, concepts, symbols, motifs, philosophical findings, and realizations for me to keep up at times. Even worse - I'm the type of person who thoroughly analyzes criticism not out of low self-esteem but rather a thirst for objective knowledge. I am not a slave to solipsism.

But sometimes it can be too much. There are times in where I literally need to pull myself aside and calm down because my brain is flying through too many concepts, and too often negative judgements of myself begin to suffocate. I listen when people say something negative, because when you worship your own ego, it is necessary to remember that you are fallible and people can see a different side of you than you can, like different sides to a diamond. Confusion arises when you remember that most of the time people are not concerned about giving some sort of conflict resolution in constructive criticism, but rather they are taking advantage of the situation to attack you.

And I'm not the type of motherfucker to bow down - I bite back.

Sometimes people hold negative opinions of you because you question the way they think, or rock the boat, or question the norm. In the world of today, everyone feels entitled to titles without earning the merit it takes to receive those names. Just buy yourself a few piercings, tattoos, dance like a bamboo to techno diarrhea, and keep up with the alternative (which aren't really alternative when they are now the mainstream...) fashion styles and you'll buy yourself a first class admission to "non-conformity" or some sort of faux edgy stance on philosophy. Bullshit. Absolute crap.

Going against the grain is thoroughly testing everything and believing nothing, and when you break people's pre-established notions about the way things run, they begin to turn on you and fear you. Well, fuck them. I'm happy to accept the consequences of distorted and compulsive thoughts conjured by questioning the established order, and now I have learned how to organize that chaos and form coherent arguments and valid points.

In Churchhill's words, "You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life." Taking a stance and holding your own creates a defense against would be attackers. This year I am taking a stance on myself and destroying anything which is on my course to accomplishment of my goals.

It's July 1st - plenty of months left in the year to cause some real fucking damage.

Happiness In Revenge

The symbol of Baphomet was used by the Knights Templar to represent Satan. Through the ages this symbol has been called by many different names. Among these are: The Goat of Mendes, The Goat of a Thousand Young, The Black Goat, The Judas Goat, and perhaps the most appropriately, The Scapegoat.

Baphomet represents the Powers of Darkness combined with the generative fertility of the goat. In its "pure" form the pentagram is shown encompassing the figure of a man in the five points of the star - three points up, two pointing down - symbolizing man's spiritual nature. In Satanism the pentagram is also used, but since Satanism represents the carnal instincts of man, or the opposite of spiritual nature, the pentagram is inverted to perfectly accomodate the head of the goat - its horns, representing duality, thrust upwards in defiance; the other three points inverted, or the trinity denied. The Hebraic figures around the outer circle of the symbol which stem from the magical teachings of the Kabala, spell out "Leviathan", the serpent of the watery abyss, and identified with Satan. These figures correspond to the five points of the inverted star.

- Book of Belial, The Satanic Bible. ASL

Beyond Good & Evil

A Morning In Quotes

"First you have to give up, first you have to know, not fear, that someday you're gonna die."

"The first soap was made from the ashes of heroes, like the first monkey shot into space. Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing."

"It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything. "

"Fuck off with your sofa units and green stripe patterns, I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let... lets evolve, let the chips fall where they may."

"The things you own end up owning you."

"You have a kind of sick desperation in your laugh."

"Fuck Martha Stewart!"

"This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time."

"If you wake up at a different time, in a different place... could you wake up as a different person?"

"On a long enough timeline, the surviving rate for everybody drops to zero."

"Tyler was full of useful information."

"A nice big COCK!"

"You are not special. You're not a beautiful or unique snowflakes. You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else."

"We just had a near life experience!"

"I felt like putting a bullet between the eyes of every panda that wouldn't screw to save its species."

"You wanna make an omelette, you gotta break some eggs"

"Sooner or later, we all became what Tyler wanted us to be."

"In the world I see - you are stalking elk through the damp canyon forests around the ruins of Rockefeller Center. You'll wear leather clothes that will last you the rest of your life. You'll climb the wrist-thick kudzu vines that wrap the Sears Tower. And when you look down, you'll see tiny figures pounding corn, laying strips of venison on the empty car pool lane of some abandoned superhighway."

"All the ways you wish you could be, that's me. I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not."

"You don't know where I've been. You don't know where I've been. Just let us have the basement, Lou!"

"A new car built by my company leaves somewhere traveling at 60 mph. The rear differential locks up. The car crashes and burns with everyone trapped inside. Now, should we initiate a recall? Take the number of vehicles in the field, A, multiply by the probable rate of failure, B, multiply by the average out-of-court settlement, C. A times B times C equals X. If X is less than the cost of a recall, we don't do one."

"You know, man, it could be worse. A woman could've cut off your penis while you were sleeping and toss it out the window of a moving car."

"Beautiful. We were selling rich women their fat asses back to them."

"No fear. No distractions. The ability to let that which does not matter truly slide."

"There are things about you that I like. You're smart, you're funny, you're... spectacular in bed... But you're intolerable! You have very serious emotional problems. Deep seated problems for which you should seek professional help" and he said, "Now a question of etiquette... as I pass, do I give you the ass or the crotch?"

"Fuck damnation, man! Fuck redemption! We are God's unwanted children? So be it! "

Devil In A New Dress

I just got finished getting my cock sucked. There's something about women that makes me so submissive to their seductive charms and atmospheric femininity. Every three and a half seconds I fall in love with a new girl, and every minute I imagine a new dream of marriage.

Their love bites on my chest and neck are recognitions of dominance and ownership, and my willingness to be a slave to their erotic malevolence always arrives with an underlying misogynistic distrust and an almost hateful resentment for their power over me. I break her face with every flirtatious act, and her nose bleeds estrogen which is my savored cocaine.

"So fucking cute. So fucking gorgeous. So fucking beautiful. Darling, I want to destroy you."

My ex-girlfriend called me yesterday and as always my compulsion drove me to say that I would have stayed with her in California if she asked, but of course that was just my adrenaline speaking. After some of the batshit crazy and disturbed people I have encountered  in the past few years, it feels great to have someone in my life that isn't immature or passive aggressive, but I wonder if I'm holding myself to the same standard. Probably not, my hellmouth can't stop itself from spitting seductive charms out of a lustful adoration to every girl I meet.

"I'm making love to the Angel of Death."

My fingers drip of a different carcinogenic nectar, and instead of nicotine-stained fingers they now are covered in the most obvious sexual acceptance, their sacred honey, my addiction. I savor all the precious that is female and to watch her squeal in delight is a beautiful dream of heaven. There's a stripper in there too. I've dated the nymphet of a stripper, along with a musician, blood-painter, college girl, and cute girl next door. Always do I bow down over their pink and purple atmospheres in the blue shade. Some I fuck furiously and imagine with other men, others I cuddle and claim and want nobody to take them from me. But I adore all.

Wolf monster satisfied by the women of Portland.

Exquisite is when you choke on your own breath as an absolutely gorgeous princess gives you a seductive smile. "I'm sooooooo your slave" I plead to her, and hold her hand to kiss. Bending over for her is fine, fine just fine.

Addiction is such a thrilling demise when the magnificent girl of your dreams cuddles with you on the couch and discreetly whispers her most fragile secrets and opens her gorgeous neck for consumption. I want her, her war, her disaster, her lust, her vanity, and her adoration. Sitting next to her on that couch made the hotel party seem like a precursor to some sort of sexual heaven and the intoxicating perfume still has not left my mind.

Marines

In a very unstable period of my life, I felt that joining the Marines was the only option I had for myself to advance and feel accomplished. Other branches of the armed forces did not interest me at all because I wanted to experience the biggest challenge available. To this day I can't help but feel anything other than admiration and respect for anybody who has been able to survive the Crucible and met all standards in Recruit Training Depot at Parris Island or San Diego. It is the ultimate test of will for an American.

Additionally this is a good time to mention that I have been on my own in one way or another since the age of 18. In order to receive federal financial aid within the United States you need to show your parent's tax information except if one of the following applies to you:

• You have a family member or child as a dependent
• You are married
• You are under the age of 24 and both of your parents are deceased
• You were a ward of your state until you were 18 years of age
• You are 24 years of age or older
• You are a member of the United States Armed Forces
• You were a foster child after the age of 13
• You are an emancipated child as determined by a court judge
• You are homeless or at risk of homelessness as determined by the director of a HUD approved homeless shelter, transitional program, or high school liaison.

None of those apply to me and when I was homeless I did not gather any documentation describing my status. So essentially, if I want to go to school before the age of 24 I have to pay for it out of my own pocket.

Joining the Marines was a great option for me because it would consider me a "member of the United States Armed Forces" and it also came with much of my schooling being paid for. My intentions were to join either an intelligence or communications MOS with a development plan to become an Officer. After four years of active service, I planned on coming back and immediately joining the Police Academy to which I would have been well prepared for with plenty of training already accomplished and good solid experience.

I was attending weekly USMC Poole sessions and overall preparing myself to head off  to bootcamp sometime in June or July, until something was brought to my attention that devastated me.

When I saw that haunting paragraph it felt like my world had been destroyed. The despair was so crushing I could not even shed a tear. My life felt like it had no way of getting better and that I would forever be stuck in a static position filled with the stench of broken relationships, unsatisfying work conditions, goals forever postponed and a feeling of entrapment in my own complacent persona. Unmovable. Stuck. Trapped. Static.

The remorseful conversation I had with my Staff Sargent confirmed that eczema is a strong disqualification because it is considered an open wound and causes complications with the small pox vaccine given to every member of the Armed Forces.

With this incredibly rich life option being taken out of my grasp, my mind turned into a defeatist cycle of darkness and despair. I will always remember April 2011 as a dizzy and turbulant circle with California's retarded sunshine heating up my room and my face as I did my routine of biking 10 miles daily to work. But this counterproductive attitude did not last long, and around the time of this blog post entry I started reverting back to my original plan of moving to Portland.

Now I'm living in a state of accomplished desire and I am working simultaneously on getting even more work done. There will always be an unsatisfied yearning to go through bootcamp and receive that highly valuable experience, but there is something an ex-girlfriend once told me that excites me and makes me feel there is still a chance for personal redemption though will:

Jonathan: "I'm impressed by the training soldiers go through, with drill instructors yelling at them all the time and pushing their limits."

R: "Well it's more impressive if those soldiers were able to push their limits without drill instructors. It's more difficult this way too."

And that's my plan.

"Faith of My Fathers"

"Your father is a big admiral," he shouted. "Now we take you to the hospital." It was hard not to see how pleased they were to have captured an admiral's son and I knew my father's identity was directly related to my survival.

I began to recover my wits and my interrogators came to the hospital to resume their work. The beatings were of short duration because I let out a hair-raising scream when they occurred and my interrogators appeared concerned that hospital personnel might object. Eventually I gave them my ship's name and squadron number. When asked to identify future targets, I recited the names of north Vietnamese cities that had already been bombed.

In late December, they decided to discharge me. To my great relief I was placed in a cell with two other prisoners, Air Force majors "Bud" Day and Norris Overly. There has never been a doubt that Bud and Norris saved my life. They later said their first impression of me, emaciated, bug-eyed and bright with fever, was of a man at the threshold of death.

Because of his injuries, Bud was unable to help with my physical care. Norris, a gentle, uncomplaining guy, cleaned me up, fed me and helped me on to the bucket that served as our toilet.

In April 1968, Bud was relocated to another prison. Norris had been released under an "amnesty" and I would remain in solitary confinement for more than two years. It's an awful thing, solitary. It crushes your spirit and weakens your resistance more effectively than any other form of mistreatment. Having no one else to seek counsel from, you begin to doubt your judgment and courage.

The first few weeks are the hardest. The onset of despair is immediate, and it is a formidable foe. I reconstructed from memory books and movies I had enjoyed. I tried to compose books and plays of my own, acting out sequences in the solitude of my cell. I had to carefully guard against my fantasies becoming so consuming that they took me permanently to a place in my mind from which I might never return.

In mid-June 1968, the camp commander, over an inviting spread of biscuits and cigarettes, asked me if I would like to go home. I wanted to say yes: I was tired and sick and I was afraid. But the Code of Conduct was explicit: "American prisoners cannot accept parole or amnesty or special favors."

Despairing of any relief from pain and further torture, I tried to take my life. After several unsuccessful attempts... I gave up. I signed a confession that "I am a black criminal and I have performed the deeds of an air pilot". The guards ordered me to record my confession on tape. I refused, and was beaten until I consented.

Vietnamese prized us as bargaining chips in peace negotiations and they usually did not intend to kill us when they used torture to force our co-operation. I was released and flown home at the end of the war, in March 1973. I had been incarcerated for 5 1/2 years.

We were told to have faith in God, country and one another. Most of us did. But the last of these - faith in one another - was our final defense, the ramparts our enemy could not cross. This was the faith I had embraced at the Naval Academy.

It was my father's and grandfather's faith. In prison, a filthy, crippled, broken man, all I had left of my dignity was the faith of my fathers. It was enough.

- John McCain, adapted and extracted from "Faith of My Fathers."

Disarm

Disarm you with a smile,

and cut you like you want me to.

Cut that little child...

Inside of me and such a part of you.

Ooh, the years burn.

I used to be a little boy.

So old in my shoes,

and what I choose is my choice

What's a boy supposed to do?

The killer in me is the killer in you.

My love, I send this smile over to you.

Disarm you with a smile,

and leave you like they left me here.

To wither in denial.

The bitterness of one who's left alone.

Ooh, the years burn.

The killer in me is the killer in you.

Marines Corps Medical Disqualification

There is a strong chance that I have a medical condition that will disqualify me from joining the Marines Corps. Initially I felt strongly disappointed, and later in the day I experienced some relief.

This was supposed to be the ultimate redemption, a way to clear my head, and able to be comfortable in my own skin. I'm highly elitist, and judge myself and others harshly. Passing the challenge of Marine Corps boot camp would have been my lifelong pride. Taking it a step further, going into active service for four years as I planned, and experiencing war was something else I looked forward to.

Another case of "walking the talk."

And now that I've reviewed the medical conditions throughly I'm thrown back into my life, and I don't know what to do. Should I continue training? Is there a chance that I may not have eczema, but some dry skin condition that doesn't disqualify me?

I'm confused also with how I feel. There's relief in that I won't be in a desert with bullets soaring past me, and that I can continue living in the civilian world, but I have also lost one of the biggest challenges that a human can experience....

Nuclear

Wolfsangel

One of my most cherished symbols and when the time is right, will be placed on my skin.

"The Wolf’s Hook represents the Yew tree (Yggdrasil - The World Tree). It connects the three Norse realms; the heavens or consciousness, the humanity or life, and Hell or death. It’s shape (when on its vertical axis) connects all three, with roots in Hell, branches in the heavens and the crossing point ( or balance point) in the human realm. Like the arms of the Baphomet, one up, the other down (as above so below) both proximal ends connecting the human element. The synthesis of opposing forces in a balanced environment; communication between the extremes.

Much of the Wolf’s Hook symbology is derived from the fundamental properties and uses of the Yew.

It is the longest thriving European tree, mostly found in undisturbed lands - such as graveyards; hence the 13th rune’s association with longevity and protection of the dead.

Yew was the wood of choice for the making of the Norseman’s ominous longbows, due to it’s flexibility and strength. In it’s day, the longbow was a most feared and awesome weapon; and when in the hands of a skilled archer, made available the ability to kill, and thereby protect, it’s own from afar. The longbow itself represents the potential energy (tension) contained within the Wolf’s Hook. One’s own ultimate potential, stored and waiting for the skill and discipline of one (pushing the limits of their own personal power) to release this potential resource and focus it into their own kinetic creative force; and to do so, one needs balance.

The 13th rune has long been known as the death rune. Again this relates back to it’s association with the Yew tree. The bark, leaves and berries of the Yew are extremely poisoness, bringing on death when ingested. It’s sap, the tree’s life force, a deep red color; and when cut, resembled a bleeding body. And let us not forget the awesome death rendering longbow, made from the wood of the Yew tree. For a magician, the Wolf’s Hook can be used as a powerful archetypical symbol during a curse (destruction) ritual.

In summation, the Wolf’s Hook symbolizes creative potential, extremes in natural balance, discipline and strength of will, protection and longevity, curse and death..."

- Diana DeMagis

Fabric of Time

"I feel that when I'm old, I'll look at you and know: the world was grotesque."

Part 2, The Persistence of War

While you wallow in the wake of your destruction, you never take a moment to look at the path which brought you here. Your ego is so large that you can't realize that the mistakes you have made are fatal, and have destroyed our relationship to a point where even looking at you is self-inflicted mutilation.

It doesn't take a genius to realize that if it causes you to burn in fury and scream words of hate, it is the moment to remove yourself before you are marked as an infernal monster. Being with you and the lies which you brought to me time after time have turned me into an insecure fool - too scared to run, unsure about myself and the constant hurt you injected into my arm like your drugs of choice.

A knife or letterbomb won't be necessary to hurt you, because in the same way that you caused this car crash, you will injure yourself in the coming days. You will injure yourself when you touch his (whoever it may be) skin and feel nothing but cold and distance.

You should be ashamed of what you have done to the person who truly took an effort to help, and stood by you regardless of all the high disrespect you shoved in his face.

I will wipe this dry cum, shit, and spit you have spilled on me like a cocoon and fashion myself into a form of hawk eyes to distinguish the unworthy and like the wolfsangel carved from the yew tree, be a weapon of might that will cut itself through this burning fabric covering me and step forth into the third chapter of my life.

"Use your fist and not your mouth. <3"

Go ahead and mock me, but I will no longer lower myself to be fit into your tabloid salivating horny desire to persecute me as a monster. I quit.

Don't Get Comfortable

♫ I'm not saying this to shake you up. I'm just saying this to wake you up. It's all good when we're making love - all I ask is don't take our love for granted. My love for you is real, and baby, if you don't love me, somebody else will. So don't you ever get too comfortable. ♫

Wolf Snarl

And I will jab this knife into your back for every time that you placed warmth into my face, and you will receive no comfort but the delicacy of blood embracing your sweet little face.

Will the frost of winter be enough to thaw these vicious flames of passion? For your sake, you better hope so, because my heart is a ticking bullet ready to penetrate and fuck sweet, betraying, and disloyal skin.

Romantic Gore

Jonathan is a sinister minister, and my religion is to please you. Ride with this pup, and I'll be arrested for another break-up. Such a bore: the two of you need some romantic gore. So invite this vampire in, and I'll devour your nectar as if in a cup...

Rambling encompassing, giving Dada a name with a sentiment I wish to express in my [ex] peer wince:

"She rolled her eyes back frenziedly to avoid seeing me, inside I didn't know if her or my hand was bleeding. Mutilated by a smoke of blonde, her fumes sharpened me to memories I've never gone (or wanted to). Infidelity is my mentality, discarding relationships like an untidy reaper. When the court sentenced me, I was forced to present their gravestone of a relationship through my hickey. My name is Jonathan, and I'll destroy your boyfriends."

In the spirit of Wilde, Madame, retort with wit, or if the night calls for Dada, resort to it.

Cheers. *raises cup of absinthe*