Open letter to the Seeing-people: bugger off! 

Open letter to people who can see stuff:

To anyone whose eyes function as they’re intended to:
     Why, I wonder, do you filthy little animals with your seeing eyes feel the need to touch things? Isn’t it good enough to simply see things?  Just because a thing is there and you can see it doesn’t mean you must also grope it with your germ-infested disease spreading hands.  

      I heard someone ask today, Why do signs featuring Braille writing say, ‘Do Not Touch’?  Maybe a lot of you people who can see have asked either silently in your thoughts or in casual conversation with your friends who also see with their eyes. I’m going to tell you why Braille signs state to not touch them….

      Those Braille signs do not want you to touch them only if you can see to read with your eyes that it is written on the sign, DO NOT TOUCH! So if you can see the sign to read it just don’t touch it. It is not for you people win your functional eyes to fondle and grope and dirty it up with your seeing-person germs. 

      The signs are there only for those who lack the ability to see the words, who also cannot see the signs. Only the superhumans, most commonly referred to as “visually impaired” or “blind” may rightfully touch the signs.  It is a bit like adding injury to insult for a seeing-person to touch the signs because you get them all germified by doing so and the “visually impaired” already cannot see, why cause them to become infected with your seeing-oersonr influenzas or your RSV or any other illnesses which could be contracted just because you can’t keep your filthy little hands off Braille signs, or anything else for that matter…..just…stop…touching things!
     I bet you’re also now wondering what makes the visually impaired person superhuman and I’ll tell you now:

The visually impaired are superhuman because all of their other senses are heightened. Far beyond that of any of yours! Therefore, they’re advanced. And way better than any of you seeing-people. They’re the gods among all us mere mortals!

P.s., 

KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF THE SIGNS MEANT FOR THE GODS AMONG US!!!!


Open letter to the Seeing-people: bugger off! 

Open letter to people who can see stuff:

To anyone whose eyes function as they’re intended to:
     Why, I wonder, do you filthy little animals with your seeing eyes feel the need to touch things? Isn’t it good enough to simply see things?  Just because a thing is there and you can see it doesn’t mean you must also grope it with your germ-infested disease spreading hands.  

      I heard someone ask today, Why do signs featuring Braille writing say, ‘Do Not Touch’?  Maybe a lot of you people who can see have asked either silently in your thoughts or in casual conversation with your friends who also see with their eyes. I’m going to tell you why Braille signs state to not touch them….

      Those Braille signs do not want you to touch them only if you can see to read with your eyes that it is written on the sign, DO NOT TOUCH! So if you can see the sign to read it just don’t touch it. It is not for you people win your functional eyes to fondle and grope and dirty it up with your seeing-person germs. 

      The signs are there only for those who lack the ability to see the words, who also cannot see the signs. Only the superhumans, most commonly referred to as “visually impaired” or “blind” may rightfully touch the signs.  It is a bit like adding injury to insult for a seeing-person to touch the signs because you get them all germified by doing so and the “visually impaired” already cannot see, why cause them to become infected with your seeing-oersonr influenzas or your RSV or any other illnesses which could be contracted just because you can’t keep your filthy little hands off Braille signs, or anything else for that matter…..just…stop…touching things!
     I bet you’re also now wondering what makes the visually impaired person superhuman and I’ll tell you now:

The visually impaired are superhuman because all of their other senses are heightened. Far beyond that of any of yours! Therefore, they’re advanced. And way better than any of you seeing-people. They’re the gods among all us mere mortals!

P.s., 

KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF THE SIGNS MEANT FOR THE GODS AMONG US!!!!


Love & Misery B.F.F.

Love and Misery often walk
hand in hand, leaving
only damages in their wake.
The two together bind and sever Hearts, minds, souls and hopeless fools
Who never thoroughly consider
just what they’re in for.
Love and Misery share stories
and laughs. They make light
of the unique suffering
Which they, together, cause.
Love never walks very far alone, And Misery meets her halfway,
and they traverse the world
in search Of minds to corrupt
and souls to burn out
of their cages.
The two, on the job,
sometimes cannot be distinguished,
as they work in synchronization.
But Love has fallen Ill
and soon shall die,
And Misery will weep for her loss:
Her most generous companion
To return to the stars
And Misery will no longer be invited, Nor have a place
in any home.
Misery will be forever shunned
and alone. Without Love,
there simply isn’t a reason
to keep Misery as a guest.
No one ever liked her, anyway.

J.S.S

…a smile like the dead…
……..charcoal black and anonymous….
…forgotten like the autumn leaves one takes into a great heap and sets aflame…..
…..a heart torn asunder….
…..picked up the pieces, fled quietly in the safety of the darkness the night offers….
…..perhaps the very best of things grow from the ruins of what has been abandoned….
…..and once again will thrive…..
….you just have to survive….

Jesus and the Rusty Butter knife of Justice

The seven deadly sins are familiar to many, from the audience of Dante to anyone who has ever seen that movie, Seven, starring Brad Pitt and the infamous razor studded dildo. I’m certain that there is no way (even with the instantaneous exchange of information and pornography) that everyone who is at least older than five, is unaware of the seven deadly sins. Furthermore, maybe half of those who are familiar with these can probably only recite three out the seven, at best, but will refer to them when the need arises to seem knowledgeable: in casual conversation or as a Professor of Theology who bought his degree on the deep web. Even someone like the fake Professor of Theology needs to keep up appearances just enough to continue to acquire money (that he probably doesn’t need or even deserve) without being found out and then tarred and feathered and shackled to a wood beam and left in the nude, vulnerable to whatever ineffable actions that would be taken upon him simply because that evil rotten shit-eater had the gall to do what most of us would do if we knew how and had balls bigger than our brains. That guy should be teaching others who would do that same thing for a living just how to do that shit. And that shit would include the most basic of information required: how to access the Underland of Cyberspace, how to locate the necessary businesses (which for all intents and purposes “do not exist”), and also maybe a smidgen of the art of fooling others more knowledgeable than they so that they will be able to successfully pull of such a deception.

Apparently, the number of people who are morbidly curious about this dark secret world of the internet outnumber those who have some crazy bright overhead light bulbs and just thought, “Hey! Maybe I can just…..GOOGLE this!” and then go frolicking about like a small girl in the garden of an evil witch who is about to cook and serve her for dinner. I bet one can even find those Red Rooms that are so terrifying that even the devil himself is afraid of anything red!

I can never speak of this to anyone. Ever. Not even my closest friend to whom I give rim jobs to to keep all of my most secretest secrets safe. This is a lonely road I have chosen and my poor mother will weep over an empty coffin when I fake my death and begin this fantastic venture of stealing lives to soothe the loneliness that comes with my chosen path to final freedom…

The pretend-for-pay Theologian has much to offer humanity and should be just as well-respected as one of those lechers who give motivational speeches and give more advice than one’s feeble mind can actually process, taking money as thanks with promises of unlimited access to God’s most exclusive nightclub in the afterlife. Valued, paying audiences are sure he’s not even charging one-tenth of what he should be charging them and are so thankful for such a bargain that they will also promise their daughters as concubines for those filthy closet pervs.

So much for all that. I’ve gone a bit off the rails here, but just imagine what sorts of invaluable relics can be found to the side of the track! The best stuff is always just off to the side of the track because that’s where people tend to neglect most. As they’ve had to work, digging all along where the plans for the track take them. Just enough earth has been plundered for laying the track and some rocks directly alongside it. The track brings a regular stream of income, tourists, resources, motion-sickness, vibrations and excitement and even romance and fear of dirty foreign men looking to ravish even the most uncomely of white women, who no matter their age or girth are still the most tantalising things all foreigners have ever seen. Truly, it is enough to send anyone who isn’t caucasian into frenzies of lust and depravity unmatched even by Dionysus. There is no obvious need for whatever is to the sides of the track until one of God’s enlightened disciples of madness excavates these lonely margins and begins to preach of the abundance that can be found off the track, and that oft travelled railway then becomes irrelevant and taken for what it is: mundane and so boring that it is a direct path to Hell.Only a fool would disagree.

And, now, back to the real point here: the Eighth Deadly Sin! What is it? I’m not even sure a proper word or phrase exists to describe it so accurately as has been done for the first seven sins, and this simply will not do. After all, how can a person avoid commiting a sin he isn’t even aware it is a sin or what exactly such a sin entails?

We can’t leave the eighth deadly sin without its own word because the responsibility of the countless souls disserviced and condemned to an eternity of daily castration (in the eighth circle of Hell, at the stroke of every midnight, these poor sinful bastards find that their genitals have grown back in place and are properly functioning only to lose them again without any anesthesia. (After the first three mornings of waking to the rapture of having their sex organs still intact only to lose them a mere few hours later, they will no longer be able to say it was only a bad dream and they will see it coming but there’s no way to stop it).

Many unspeakable horrors occur there. It is so terrible that aside from those living eternity in torment, no one knows what goes on there between castrations. No one speaks of it. Not even in conversation just among those suffering fools and their closest allies. The 8th sin takes many forms. There is only one word I can think of that can include such a plethora of things that can and will be seen in the eyes of the Lord as the final sin. The sin that cannot be forgiven. What word can describe such an evil? What can we name the skinwalker of sins? I’m not sure your sinful nature is ready to know the truth.

But, who am I to tell anyone what is right or wrong, good or evil, for better or worse? Even I will be among those who must trudge shamefully from circle to circle on a daily basis, each day lasting the equivalent of 72 hours for the living, to receive punishment for all my wrong-doings.

Never listen to those who say, “<b>Variety</b> is the spice of life,” for the eighth circle of hell is where listening to those rotten little flesh-cans filled with garbage and vile hatred will land you.

<i>Variety is not the spice of life. Variety is the seasoning of sorrow and suffering</i> and you will curse all those who have ever dared utter those words for all eternity every time Jesus approaches you with his rusty butter knife of Righteous Justice to carve at you where you want it least of all: the most tender and sacred parts of your body.

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Time

Time is wasting…well…our time is wasting…but Time…Time is moving forward tirelessly…effortlessly…no matter how stuck in the bowels of life one may be…time keeps moving…It can give no thought to the misery it leaves behind it nor the triumphs….times is long, but we are not…Time will soon be gone from me like a vague dream…The Universe, it must be cracked…that feeling you have now…right now…that is it…

New Owners of Home With Dead Lady in Attic Wall Better Detectives than Detective Inspector 

Police Detective Jason Fay said the new owners were a bit worried because of the body. “Was it someone who was killed and stuffed in the wall, or did they accidentally pass away by ending up in the wall?” he said.

Really, detective? It must have been such intense suspense and indescribably enlightening to have been the one detective inspector to detect upon inspecting that this couple was, indeed, worried. I would never have guessed it myself. The societal norm in General is that of finding human remains in the house one has just newly acquired. In fact, half of realty purchases are not for the realty but for the prize(s) inside! By prizes inside, I really mean the body, or if you’re super lucky, bodies!   The noobs actually wondered if the person who used to be the bones that they found was murdered or had died when they somehow accidentally got trapped inside the wall? Wow. Okay. It’s obvious that old lady wedged herself inside that attic wall intentionally  so that whoever bought the house next would be able to find a really cool prize in their new home and really get his or her money’s worth out of the old place. 

https://www.yahoo.com/news/owners-houston-home-human-remains-attic-wall-135838952.html

Intuition…

The lock on the door was broken, so I let myself in.  There was no light in the house it seemed as I eased the door open and swept my hand against the wall feeling my way to a light switch. I flipped it on. Nothing happened. No light. No sound. Nothing.

I sensed something was very wrong here as soon as my feet touched the ground. I had arrived at 7 pm as requested. 

The moment the soles of my shoes touched the gravel I felt as if the world would suddenly crumble away from beneath me and I would be thrust into some kind of abysmal nightmare. That’s the best way I can describe the anxiety I felt at that moment.