He's not supposed to drink, and he knows it. For months and months he hasn't even gotten tipsy, trying so hard to keep the promise he made to himself after last time. Sometimes he had a stray beer, but that was rare, and he felt guilty afterwards every time. It's been so long since he's had more than one, and he shouldn't, he really shouldn't. The last time he was drunk he ended up overdosing on painkillers and landed himself in hospital. His siblings screamed at him and his old friend nearly ripped his guts out for it. He's not supposed to drink.

floating orchestra in the water
conductor, waving emerald fiddlesticks
silent whale-song through dead worlds
no-one around to hear

crimson bruises cross the breeze
the most beautiful of domestic abusers
forever a fall down the stairway to oblivion
gentle, delicate, and easily torn

roses and seaweed, singing ballads to the children
roses and seaweed in the swiftest summer nights
roses and seaweed take my hand and draw the curtain
roses and seaweed take the stage and take the light

The most recent of poetry/lyrics.

;; The dentist stuck a needle in my mouth and now everything's numb and I want to chew my own mouth but last time I did that I woke up the next morning looking like Mick Jagger and couldn't go to school. -sob-

[=timesnewroman][=10][center]You mustn't fall asleep just yet, darling, it is not quite your time...

A blurry horizon of deepest violet. The sea of gold washes from side to side, gently lulling the trees into a hypnotic trance, enticing the vivid feathered bullets that shoot slowly here and there, stabbing the dirt. Look upwards, to where the sky should be, and see only an empty void...deepest violet. Cast a stoned eye to the future instead and look upon pristine diamond that glistens in the unexplained moonbeams.

Thou shalt hold no other Gods before us.

Hot breath smelling of sweet oblivion. Rusting corpses and hungered ghosts swimming in the meltdown of a softening brain. Inhale, seek solace, and find only choking exile from oxygen. An arch nemesis clutches at an exposed throat and threatens quietly to cease life altogether. Beg emptily for release and salvation. Recieve none and, in suffocating frustration, flail clawed hooves at a faceless smile.

No, no...this won't do. Don't you know who I am?

Impossible to tell until told first, without the stretching bones that hide so many strange faces. Such beauty concealed behind curious monstrosity, a poignant lesson to be learned. Blackened eyes from a nameless race of titans, the old ones that came before...but how to remember such things, being so young? Able to breathe again, sucking disappointing life back into the chamber.

Thou shalt not...thou shalt...thou shalt not...thou shalt not, shalt not, not...

Snapping smile and hateful lap of tongue against high and mighty cheek. Distinctive taste of blood and sin. Curling white smoke from the same diamond figures, wrapping around the faceless beauty that surrounds nothing.

mature warning for violence and attempted sexual assault.

Fast thuds sounded on the floor, trod-trod, trod-trod, hurried and never slowing. In one hand was a ceremonial dagger, sharp silver blade smeared with a putrid-smelling liquid, violet in colour. The handle was golden, patterned and pretty, or had been once - now it too was filthy. In the other hand was a tattered book, pages looking as if they would fall out any second. Saxophone glared straight ahead as she stormed through the corridors, raging.

"I'd rather go to Hell."
"That can be arranged quite easily, Agent."
"Yeah? Go a-fucking-head. I'm your best, you'd never fuckin' let me go that easy."
"Hm, hm. Accurate. But all the same - you are still, ultimately, disposable."
"But of course, Commander. That'd be why you sent your men tracking Agent 5 and I for so long, am I right? That'd be why you blackmail us into your service. Because we're disposable."
"Do not misunderstand me, Agent. You are disposable, yes, but you are valuable. I always knew you would come back, and 'blackmail' is hardly an accurate term..."
"It's the perfect fuckin' term. My freedom, Snake's wife? I'd call that blackmail."
"I call it...bargaining."

The following night was the worst. Morale was sorely diminished, and both of them - however reluctant they were to admit it - were almost past the point of exhaustion. Saxophone, with the scratches all down her side, feared infection. Snake, with his leg worn from climbing and running and walking, feared falling and not getting back up.

Who are you four? You were lovely, Taliene really appreciated the company ;; She doesn't usually laugh or jump around these days...

I know the pictograms aren't clear at all, but I didn't get any closer screenies ;;

And hello to the nameless, too >w>