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I offer my sincerest apologies to the friends and family of the victim. I cannot imagine the amount of pain and suffering you must be feeling, and I am sorry for your trouble. Apologizing is something I am not very good at, and this is no exception. Especially since her screams were so beautiful, and her young flesh so delicious. I found her begging majestic.
Forgive me; I cannot help myself.
“Bugged” by David MacNeal.
Very very fascinating. So many cool facts, interesting history, and entertaining stories. If you’re a hardcore entomology enthusiast, or even someone who is just curious about insects, I highly recommend this book. The topics are quite varied, ranging from forensic entomology to using bugs as a food source.
I’m going to lick
every inch of your skin,
and not stop until I’ve had enough.
Every bead of sweat,
every line of your figure,
is mine.
Remembered this was on the whiteboard in my study. Got real drunk a couple months ago and did some poetry magnets. Yikes.
I could feel the lips and muscles of myself
begin to flutter and then bloom.
Pushing outwards,
wet,
layer by layer,
like a flower.
Vibrant reds.
Vulnerable pinks.
My pelvis tilted upward;
my petals poised and opening to your sun of a mouth.
My seeping cum,
beginning to collect like pools of rain water beneath me.
The moon is my clock, and when it is full, it will be time to see you again.
My head has been full of confusion and the sky of spaceships.
The bugs splatter across my windshield like rain and
I wish it was my brains on the pavement.
The pain in my chest has spread; I can feel it in my thighs, arms, throat.
I hope I see you before it reaches my head,
or at least before the steel barrel of my gun does.
Razors can’t seem to be sharp enough, can’t seem to cut deep enough,
I feel like my blood is too hidden to reach.
I couldn’t feel it slicing my skin open, but then again, I can’t make it hurt like you can.
I’m sure I’ll never be able to feel anything again.
I know that even razor wire and cement walls couldn’t keep us apart,
so why do I feel so far away?
“Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” by J.K. Rowling
At it again, re-reading Harry Potter for the *checks notes* 1000th time. I spent 3 days staring at my bookshelves and making stacks of what I wanted to read, but went back to this. Its been a few years since I’ve read the series. I received the new boxed set from my Aunt as a wedding present. The artwork in this edition is breathtakingly magical. (Even after all these years, Prisoner of Azkaban is still my favorite book in the series.) The world is crazy and I needed some serotonin so I went back to ‘ole reliable.
Richard Ramirez was in my dream.
He was tall and we danced. We had never met before. He didn’t know who I was, but I knew him, and that he had already murdered women.
I said “I know who you are, night stalker.” And to prove it, in the middle of the noisy packed bar, I pulled down the collar of his t-shirt a bit, to expose the top of an upside down pentagram that he had carved into his own chest.
He was super confused and shocked. He stared and then motioned for me to follow; he wanted to take me outside somewhere. I kind of blew him off, because I was dating someone already and so I started gathering my coat and bag, muttering excuses.
He turned away from me and went outside with his friends, who were wearing black and dressed like punks. After a few minutes, I thought better about it, and followed him outside. I called out “Richard” and he turned and looked at me, and then turned away, went into the street with his friends to set off some kind of m80.
There was a cop nearby watching them, whom I started talking to, to distract her, while they set off the explosives near a Cota bus. The shockwave blew out the bar windows and was visable to the eye; a color like blue fire.
This is a terrible web we’ve woven.
And it was I alone that ruined our relationship.
Now,
Our beautiful lives as spiders;
Stalking, catching, cocooning,
Sucking dry the flies,
Really only exists somewhere between dreams and reality.
AEL Library & Archives 