Random Boo Archives:

The Tick

Every tick a theft, stealing your very right to exist, your very right of breath.
Time is all that is left, a measurement, a counting, a ticking to death…

The light, it irritates, it violates, and it penetrates my space and makes mockery of my being. It rapes my mind; it tears apart the very existence of I. It burns my skin, and everything therein, boiling the reminiscence of my sin.

Light is death to dreams, and death to the understood, for die does my dreams of what should, of what would, if what only could….

For as I transcend I see,
Time, is no mans friend.
But time beats a heart in me,
a rhythm, a play,

The End…

About Silly Cats
Started in 2008 the blog has since then been discontinued... These are a selected few archived blog posts starting with the last post first. Silly Cats
Silly Cats Smoke Pipes
Exclamation of contempt occurring without definite aim, reason, or pattern. This is the home to self-eradicating gluttony and feigned psychological-gratification. Get some red plonk, cigarettes, and some cake and succumb yourself to the fabricated sensations of pleasure galore. Don’t squander thoughts on hangovers, diets, and personal hygiene. Spend your days instead intoxicated and aggressive. Then die young of an overdose in a hotel room surrounded by prostitutes, in a poetic symphony of self-pity and artistic contempt. Label every man, woman, and child a parasitic monkey, shout "how dare you", spit out your fag in disgust, "Good day sir!" and slam a door!