Social Suicide

Me: Its 2am I really should sleep

My brain: But what if you imagined Applejack as a trans fem ***** ***** with a huge ***** **** and a beard, ******* your ***** *******

(Have fun filling in the blanks)

None of us are free from sin.

Terror.

Blur on a black screen not blank

As if electricity still itches

Under its glass skin

A glossy glimpse of my eyes

I long for a longer time

As I look into my own eyes

I see the wires

Vessels of blood and butchery

Bathing in that black

They anticipate a world beyond my own

When I let go of my life

Ratatoiulle 2099: Part Two

I can't even taste it. Its just texture. The eggs are slimy. The peppers are rubbery. My teeth feel just as malleable in my brain, like im biting into my own skull. I should be grateful really. I'm actually fairly lucky to have a rat that compliments my lifestyle. God knows id be a shit cook without one (and lord knows I can't afford a rat cooked meal in a resturant). I guess thats the other thing that pisses me the fuck off. The media praises Remy of old, the first rat to pilot a human. Everyone knows how amazing and wonderful Remy is. It's all lies. Remy became like any other privleged elitist, his meals were never affordable for the common man. I used to love his recipes as a kid, when I turned 10 and I finally got my rat implanted. I was so excited my rat knew how to cook too. But I grow tired of this same bougee omelette. Maybe I wanna march on down to Pops Pancakes and gorge myself on the syrup soaked slappers. Maybe I just fucking will do that...

"Nobody actually remembers the ripenning of course. Its a day lost to history, presumably because the rats had nested into our brains. Personally i prescrive to the theory of the HO1 Waves creating a psychic disturbance across all rats. That they craved intellect as we once did as early humans...but nobody really knows for sure."

-Burt Essner in his book "The Rat Race: How Rats Became One."

Wal Mart

Sterile non places, lights and rows lights and rows lights and rows, rowing down the lazy river. But everything is still, so still I shop. My cart a mimic on wheels, its maw enough to consume all. Chaos is concealed, soon it is congealed in my cart. It mimics me, im not much different the way i wheel around and eat and buy, i buy you, i eat you, i eat buy, i get by. Im checking out these words but I stopped caring or listening this poem making minimum change, pocket change i collect them, a penny for my thoughts. I swipe a card, you check me out, i check you out. Did i swipe it, did i shop lift? I wanna lift this whole fucking shop into the sun. But i come out of sterile light to a gray sky, and the sun is nowhere in sight.

I love being able to be honest here. For better and for worse this platform has more honest self expression then many others I've run into. I've come to accept the fact that I'm rather self absorbed because I can be the focus of my own writing. I think thats a great gift that art gives you, being able to write characters from your own mind, draw oc's that are based on yourself and still be productive, still bring joy and happiness and thought provoking questions to others. It's an easier way for me to connect with people as someone on the AuDHD spectrum. I'm thinking about this because I decided to take a leap of faith and be more vulnerable recently here then I thought I could be. Even if nobody reads it, the action of putting it into the world is a big step forward.

I need my space...

What the fuck even is space?

pacing around the house.

S.

Trans Lugia (WIP)

The story of Lugia is very much tied into the story of their writer, Takeshi Shudô. He was saddened to see the direction they took with Lugia in the film, feeling Lugia was presented in a way too masculine for what he envisioned.

I find myself emotionally invested in Lugias fate, I want to recognize the her inherent...I want to understand the langauge, the words he spoke, as I understand poetry. I find myself wondering, relying on others for her form, her words...am I so helpless to be named man as well after so many years unattested, even if miserable? Did I not bring happiness? Is my childhood not forever a scar? It is too late for Takeshi to change things...at least how I see it. People have moved on. Discussion threads on Bulbapedia are already 12 years old, the links to the translations broken. All I have left is the original japanese blog posts from Takeshi Shudô.

If your reading this and your interested I have included the link. I'd appreciate any feedback on any of the posts, regardless on what they are about. Thanks for reading either way.

Takeshi's blog:

Remember kids: Blowing up the Death Star was seen as, and is, a based thing to do.

Killing Emperor Palpatine was based

Look what happened to Anakin for letting a man live to "stand trial" when he was clearly and obviously evil.

I live to see evil eradicated, sometimes it is that simple.

Chuckin Chicken

2, 3 chicken breasts in the air fryer

It aint enough for you

4 or 5 more

Your hunger I adorned

On my heart, cooking spicy like spicy love

With you

Turned hot when you suddenly said

I aint hungry

But I still got a soft spot

On my heart

For your dumbass bullshit, your games

Packing shit up

But it always ends the same

"Im tired of your bullshit"

He tellin me like I aint shit

Chuckin clothes in trash bags

My fucking trashbags

Clothes I folded so nicely

You folded so icey but you

Cant even drive yourself home

Got me droppin you off

With your clothes

In a car

That you cant even lock

You aint got nothing on lock

But my heart is unlocked for you

No please I beg you...

Come back...

I love you furry with a basic ass fursona because its what you love, fr.