The Doll House

There was this village, out in the middle of nowhere in England. Rolling green pastures, a lake glimmers in the distance under the brilliance of the sun, and beyond it was a lush forest. It was a sleepy sort of village, the kind where you could walk into it in the middle of the day and there wouldn't be a soul to be seen, not in the creepy or frightening way of an abandoned derelict building, no, but in the homey, snoozy type of way, the way a cat napping on the windowsill feels.

Freshly moved into this sleepy, lazy, warm little town, was a couple. Brand new, off the honeymoon and first-home-for-raising-the-children-in phaze, where they vigorously and enthusiastically took part of the necessary 'baby-making'. But alas! The years roll by and still no pitter-patter of baby feet stomp down hallways in the wee hours of the morning, indeed, she doesn't even swell with the promise of those feet. A doctor is seen, and devestating news, both are infertile. The wife tearfully cries "I can't be! I've been pregnant before! I miscarried!" The doctor just shakes his head and shows them the result, decrying that both are unable to bring life into the world....but he cannot explain why.

It were almost as though he was tempted to say they were born barren, but alas...there is the miscarriage.

Distraught, melancholy and mournful, they return home, to their dainty little cottage at the end of the street, homey and warm, just like the rest of the town. More years pass, and the wife developes a passion for making dolls. China dolls, porcaline, the fine art collectors edition of every type, every race and breed, from the baby-kin, eyes screwed shut and toothless mouths open in eternal silent cries, to the toddler-esque, three feet high, bright eyed and curious. The husband doesn't really understand it, until one night the wife shows him a particularly pretty doll, somewhere between walking and not, sucking on a fragile porcaline lollipop, the colours smearing from her efforts, and whispers to him "Look honey, this is the baby we would have had." He blinks at her in confusion "These are our children, the ones we can't give life to, they are our darling ones...right?" A strange ripple at the nape of his neck, the hairs rising, prompt him to nod in agreement "Of course dear, come, have something to eat."

More years pass, and the number of dolls accumulate, their blankeyed stare filling the rooms, more dolls than furniture, all lovingly handcrafted, a dedication of the wife to each of her 'children'.

Twenty years on, from that mortifying news that they were infertile, and the husband dies. Or rather, is found dead by the cleaning lady one weekend, the wife was at a friends place, buying fabrics for her 'children'. There was a shattered doll beside him, what could be seen it was a younger one, perhaps two or three, eyes screwed up, tears down its little cheeks, and the shattered end of its arm imbedded in the husbands through, imbedded with such force that it came out the other side, the porcaline streaked with blood.

The cleaning lady screams and runs out of the house, calling the police, who upon arrival, before the wife returned home, found strangely, no shattered doll, no arm pushed through the husbands throat -- just a hole where it was, and a pool of drying blood.

The wife, with a few grey hairs now, is thrown into a fit of depression at the news of her husbands death, feverishly turning to her now, only solace -- her children.

Production of the unique dolls comes out as never before, a new one every week, and soon, she can't move for risk of knocking one of the life-sized, realistic creations over and risk shattering them. Two months later, she dies of a heart attack, an unfinished doll in her hands, older looking than any of the others, a girl of around eight, only half of her curling blonde hair was attatched, her face painted to hold infinite sadness, melancholy in her green eyes, and her dress half-sewn yet pulled on, tattered edges showing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Years after the unfortunate couple's death, the doll house still stands, complete with the fortune of now antique dolls, a silent guard, balefully glaring at any who dare try to enter, the door unable to open for the dolls shoved up against it, wedged tight so as to not shatter under a hard shove. Yet strangely, in one room, sitting at one window, is a single doll, half-finished, as though she had been set aside briefly, to be finished at a later date, alone in this one room, watching the comers, watching them leave, alone in the study.

Some say, that lone doll seems mournful when the visitors get turned away, her sad, sad eyes seem to weep real tears when people flee before the glares of the other dolls, all perfect, pristine, finished works of art, crying the innocence of childhood, yet how they glare! It's as though they blame everyone for their mothers death....but that can't be true.

They're just dolls, after all. Attatching emotions to the inanimate is a foolish human trait.


Right?

Sleep

Sleep is a funny thing lately.

It is elusive, and demanding at the same time.

It is like trying to catch a moonbeam blinding your right eye, with a butterfly net. The moment you go for it, a cloud passes over the face of the moon and that silvery beam of irritating light is gone, and the need is no longer present.

So you relax, pack away your butterfly net, and consider carving a log. You get to the middle of that log, where it is starting to take the shape you see in your imagination, when the cloud passes and that moonbeam is back in your eye, -demanding- that you try and catch it with your butterfly net. You try, and try, but the silver keeps on slipping free, but demanding your attention, until another cloud comes, and you are no longer half-blind from the silken light.

That is about how ....easily...I sleep lately. I meditate, I count sheep, I turn about on my bed as though I was a compass that couldn't find north and still, I do not sleep. Or if I do, it is a doze that lasts a few hours, and I am irritatingly awake again, with that blasted moonbeam -daring- me to try and capture it.

Funny, today....erm, yesterday now, looking at the time, (It's 4.28am), I passed out from exhaustion at say, 10.30am. I had woken the day before at 11.30am. Now, I sprawl out on my bed, dead to the world, well...mostly. The whole daylight thing, and other people being around. I wake up at 1pm, and then at 2.30pm, or there abouts. And funnily enough, that was the best -rest- I have gotten for a very long time. It was lovely.

I get drowsy again at eight, get up, make dinner. Oh dear, no longer drowsy! I get sleepy again at about 10.30pm, I push to 11pm, doing last minute before bed things, like showering, and.....

Lay in bed.

I roll over.

I roll back.

Onto my belly.

Onto my left hand side.

Onto my right hand side.

Onto my back.

I look at the window, and shift so that my head is pointing to it (across the bed), knocking some clothes off in the process.

I roll over.

I roll back.

I doze. Yay, sleep!

Onto my belly.

Onto my back.

I shift so that my -feet- are pointing to the window.

Rinse, wash and repeate. You get the idea.

Five hours later, I give up. Or there abouts. It is exceedingly frustrating. Do you know how -long- it takes for those hours to pass while you stare at the back of your eyelids, the headboard of the bed, the wall, the ceiling, your eyelids some more...

I have reached the conclusion that sleep is highly overrated. Who needs a bedtime anyways? Who -wants- one? We all manage to get some approximation of sleep at around 3am, and wake up again at nine thirty, right? No? Wow, man, you are so -weird-, you should get that checked out ay? Might be serious.

Imagine.

Regularly sleeping every night. My mind boggles!

Oh, and the few moments when I -do- get to sleep (Apart from earlier yesterday when I hit unconsiousness in the middle of the day) I dream. And they're really, really animated and energetic dreams.

People say you dream in black and white. Right. Then why did I dream I had a pet snake, that had a jet black head, and a blood-crimson body? A snake, mind you, that doesn't seem to exist. If anyone knows of a snake with those colourings, be a dear and let me know? I wan't to know what the devil it is.

*sigh* I'm thinking about getting over the counter sleeping pills, since I have a sneaking suspicion that I sleep too much to get prescription tablets, to be declared an insomniac. Who needs to sleep anyways? You can sleep when you're dead!

Funny, this seems to be a recurring topic/occurance with me. Either I sleep too much, (14 hours plus) or, I don't sleep at all. Hmm. Maybe there's something wrong with me.

~ShaedowDancer~

Dream walker

Far away on a silver skein;
the mirror of your dreams.
Pack away the precious things,
the memories of your past.

Sail along the silken road
searching for the truth.
Destroy the threads of reality;
the secret hidden inside.
Learn to taste the waters,
the flavours of the sky.
Find the truth of reality
in the old sea-turtles cry.

Far away on a silver skein;
the mirror of your dreams.
Pack away the precious things,
the memories of your past.

Walk upon the sunken floor,
the history of the earth.
The shifting tides of eternity
measuring your worth.
Glitter of the floating shell
drifting in the breeze,
to tell the truth of a melody,
look among your dreams.

Far away on a silver skein;
the mirror of your dreams.
Pack away the precious things,
the memories of your past.

Just pack away the treasured things,
the fragile memories of your past.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It's half a song, since I've got the tune in my head, but stuffed if I can put notes to it. Since I kinda can't play anything, nor read sheet music, or write it for that matter. Not like I've got anything to pluck out the notes on -anyways-....

But still, I think it's nice. Just came to my head while I was waiting for the bus to go to ....somewhere. Ah-ha! the city. To buy a book, and get money out to pay my rent. Wrote it on the train, and bus. So it's all good.

Opinions people?

~ShaedowDancer~

Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

I am so happy at myself!

Okay, update. I am now out of my mother's house, and living on my own, kinda. It's an awesome deal. So that's all good.

Also, today, I bought a tv, dvd player, a stand for the two to rest on, soap, suitcase, headache tablets, milk and yoghurt. Guess the damage?

suitcase = $10

soap = $1.59

headache tablets = $2.something

stand = $20

tv= $99

dvd player = $39

So all told, around $170

which I think, was absolutely fantastic. ^_^ A steal! So, I am very, very happy.

The Theater

It was dark in the cinemas, but that's not really the right word. Cinema is like the meaning of industry, or a building complex. It brings to mind grey chairs, set in rows on dull blue carpeting with those little flakes of colour, as though someone had shaken sprinkles out onto the blue in an attempt to lighten it, but all it really does is make the blue seem more dull, more grey, more industrialised. Lastly, a massive screen at one end of the room, infront of all those rows of grey, generic chairs, and voila, there is a cinema. Moderately well lit, impersonal, lifeless, just one of a million.

This wasn't a cinema, it was a theater. This had scarlet carpeting, maroon chairs, set in rows, but curved towards the 'stage', where the screen sat, taking up the entire front of the room. There was an upper balcony, where more seats were set, above the lower rows, sectioned into four. There was beige painted murals carved into the woodwork of the ceiling, curtains covered the walls, and the walkways were lit with small lights. This was something alive, built from an era when you went and sat in those cramped rows to see a play, when movies where half an hour long, silent, and something of a treat. When the very act of going to the theater was a social occasion, not a spur of the moment decision. It wasn't well lit, it didn't have generic bulbs set into the walls, the ceiling, no, it had rectangular boxes to mimic the holders of a torch in a medieval castle, giving a murky, shadowed light at best.

A lone individual walks into this atmosphere, the murky, old-seeming lighting, blue jeans, sneakers, and a white t-shirt that says 'your village called, they want their idiot back', a backpack over one shoulder. She -- definitely a she, with breasts pressing against the white cotton, and the curve of her hips within the jeans -- scans the seating before turning and leaving, ascending the stairs to that upper balcony, to see what it felt like sitting where the 'upper crust' would have sat. She sat, leant back in the chair, listening to the imitation classical music with a few lyrics thrown in here and there, not particularly interesting ones, that came from everywhere, and nowhere in particular. It was dark, close, almost claustrophobic or comforting, enough to encourage a doze, and it was empty, from her brief scanning gaze.

She starts to drift off, the soft music, not very riveting, lulling her into dozing, leaving her ignorant -- she's just an average person after all -- and deaf to the soft brush of fabric against the soft felt of one of the seats, the quite whump of a footstep, followed by a couple others as a darker shadow in the murky, isolated lighting moves down the row. Sleep, so soft, soothing, and close, beckons seductively.

A soft thing startles her out of the beckoning arms of sleep, at first, she is unaware of what it was that changed, and she frowns for a few moments, before sitting up, still not seeing the shadow almost at her back. Ah, now she realises what it was that disturbed her, the music was no longer playing. Strange, the previews hadn't started. It was as though for those few seconds, the world had stopped.

She was still confused when a leatherclad hand reaches around from behind the seat, closing over her mouth, another braced against the side of her head, and the soft leather of the cowhide covered hand slides off of her mouth, grips her jaw, she has time for a shrill scream, building to the crescendo but never getting there, cut off abruptly with the harsh crackling of her neck being broken. She is left to slump against the chair, head resettled, staring eyes closed.

Not so empty after all.

Wacked dream

I haven't mentioned my dreams for a while, so here's one that I had last night, a pearler.

I don't remember how the dream started, but the bit that I remember clearly, was that I needed to get out of this city, but didn't have any money. So a friend of mine took me to this boat thing -- the city is entirely on the water, and it is -very- rare that you need to go on land, so all the automobiles are types of boats, sort of like a jet ski -- and to get money, you slap your hand against where the glove compartment would be infront of the passengers seat, and it would open, extending a digital solid scrabble board. Out the bottom of this is a teeny keyboard, and you type your name into it. You hit enter, and it'd flash and then set into the board. Beside that, a little cup thing would seeeep out and down, open hinge like, and coins would drop into it, depending on the letters in your name depends on what coins you get. Like the common letters, a, e, s, n, and so on, would get a copper coin, l, g, m, and the like would get silver, and the rare letters, x, y, u, z, would get gold coins. A mesh bag would wrap up your coins and you'd take them out, then the board would retract back into the dash. That's how you got your funds.

And then there was a dream jump to a school oval/mall area, me and a male friend, as well as an older female supervisor -- for some reason we were wanted criminals -- had to wait outside on the grass for a while. I found a sandy patch, and first I started drawing things, then I started digging a hole. It was elbow deep before she said we had to go, and she told me that I had to make sure that the sand on top of the hole matched the rest of the sand, they tended to get annoyed if it didn't. So then we went into the mall, building thingy, and one entire SECTION was devoted to ice cream and desserts. He went off to get what he wanted, I was given coins to buy a piece of fudge for the overseer lady, so I did that, but then I had about three, four dollars left over, so I got myself something. It was in a bowl, it was like, 'candy' choices. There was hollow candy, rare candy, and blonde candy flavours. Three scoops, so the rare candy would be vanilla, strawberry and banana, the blonde would be banana, caramel, and carrot or something. So I got one, and pocketed the fudge. Walking outside, she came to me and asked for the fudge, panic! what did I do with it?! I checked my pockets and there it was. I handed it to her, she took a bite "It's cold" before throwing it away.

For some reason, I had to drive a van and it was parked like RIGHT against a wall. Van|wall close. I was like "great parking, how the hell'd the driver get out?!" So I had to crawl in the passenger's side and settle behind the wheel. While this was going on, the supervisor was talking to the other guy, and they screamed 'Gryphon!' just before a really badly wounded one fell onto the van, the beak was at the drivers side window, tapping on the glass when it passed out. "Quick! To the hospital!" shouted the guy, while buckling up.

Dream jump.

160km/h down the road, and I wake up. No idea how I got there or anything, but suddenly in control of a speeding vehicle, swoosh around the corners, spray up of water, trying to keep the unconsious bleeding bird thing from falling off of the van. Then he said, the guy in the passenger seat "Could you worry less about braking and more about stoppign?" and I was like, huh, why? and then the hospital was right THERE. we careeened through the doors, skidding down the hall while I'm like STOOOOOOOOOP!!!! crash.

When we came too, the gryphon was gone, but there was a puddle of blood, we had minor wounds. He went off one way, I went wobbly off the other, and found an icefooty rink. Like normal football (Aussie style that is) Except all the atheletes had to iceskate to do anything. And the 'good guys' were losing because the star player had broken his leg (he was the gryphon, I knew completely that it was the gryphon, but it wasn't, he was human) but it got fixed, and couldn't see. So someone eventually gave him some glasses. Massive things, that took up half the face, a -OO- style, but the round lenses overlapped slightly. And then he wa slike 'yay I can see!' and they won.

And then I decided to wake up.

Walking out of my room my mother just appeared before me and started tugging at my clothes, gesturing, asking if it fitted alright, oh yeah, it does, is it comfy? And I'm like ...huh...? Ice...foot...oh. Pyjamas. Right.

And that is my night.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Side note, I've got 'witch doctor' stuck in my head, from the record thing. Like, old school music.

'I went to the witch doctor, he told me what to say, I went to the witch doctor, he told me what to do, my friend the witch doctor, now I'm telling it to you! He said 'ooh ee ooh ah ah, ting tang walla walla bing bom. That's oooh ee ooh ah ah ting tang walla walla bing bom!'

-_- I got it stuck in my head int he middle of my shift at work. I'm like whaaaaaayyyyy?! And how the HELL did it get there?! Lets just face it, friday was one RANDOM day.

I have precognition! Eets skeeery O.x

MSN conversation.

Balketh just sent you a nudge.
*
Balketh says: <--- Him
BAH!
Balketh says:
Fricking stupid button
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says: <-- me
gah
Balketh says:
I was gonna say I found an awesome new webcomic (Not really 'new', but new to me.)
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
lol
Balketh says:
It's shweet...
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
www.zapinspace.com <--- spooooooky
Balketh says:
O_o
Balketh says:
How the FUCK did you know that?!
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
*grins*
Balketh says:
Seriously, foregoing all smilies, that's the fucking scariest finishing of a sentence I've ever fucking seen.
Balketh says:
I'm creeped right the hell out now.
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
*giggles*
Balketh says:
Can you explain to me, please, how you did that?
Balketh says:
Did I tell you of it, and forget?
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
I'm telepathic
Balketh says:
Did you tell me of it, and I forgot?
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
or more accurately, precognitic.
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
hehe, no, I didn't tell you of it.
Balketh says:
>_>
Balketh says:
Seriously, that's the worst case of co-incidence I've ever seen.
Balketh says:
>.<
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
haha
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
because it wasn't coincidence
Balketh says:
The HELL it wasn't!
Balketh says:
Don't freak me out like this!
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
what's you're problem?
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
Scared of ESP and stuff like that? :P
Balketh says:
YES.
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
why?
Balketh says:
Well, not really 'scared', but just this case if fucking freaky.
Balketh says:
>.>
Balketh says:
its*
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
*patpats*
Balketh says:
If you're really telepathic, etc, then the only thing I am is as jealous of you.
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
*laughs*
Balketh says:
Remove the as.
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
For years, my dreams have become the evening news
Balketh says:
I'm going to not believe that, and not believe anything like that from anyone who can't prove it to me.
Balketh says:
It seriously freaks me out too much.
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
hehehe
There is a saying; Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift -- that's why they call it the present says:
y'know, that wasn't the first time I've gotten inside your head :P
Balketh says:
Yeah, I know.
Balketh says:
It's just, that was very, very coincidental.
Balketh says:
I was about to give /you/ the link.


Ooooooh, spooooooookieness! Teehee, he's really freaked now.

My day out!

Yay I had a day out! That wasn't either work or university XD Which reminds me, it starts next week, joy of joys, yay for getting up at half past sparrows fart. -_-

Anyways, I went out today, and saw a couple movies and bought some stuff. It was fun.








No you silly people! That's not the entirety of my post, you KNOW I'm more verbose than that. Sheesh, what were you thinking?

First and foremost, I have to say this as it's really ironic, I don't know if he does it deliberately, but Xin -- friend of mine, mentioned previously of those that recall him -- seems to have all these wonderful friends that I get along REALLY WELL with. Seriously. Lee, Leigh, however she spells her name, is a whole 147.5cm, which is around 4'10" for those of the american persuasion. So little! Wonderful sense of humour, bright and bubbly and effervescent. I never thought I'd use that word to describe someone, but there you have it. She's got shoulder length brownish hair, about half a foot shorter than me (as mentioned), fair-skinned, and yeah. We got along really well, I feel kinda bad in retrospect, I mean, she's -his- friend after all, and we kinda y'know...sort of made him a third wheel. Oh well.

We went to a couple stores together, he introduced me to JB Hi-fi, which is AWESOME. An electronics store that offers almost as great a variety in cds, dvds, and games as Borders does books! It even has a section for the multimedia devices, ipods, mp3 players, cd players, cameras and earphones etc. As such, we went back to it, and I bought a couple dvd's, Hercules, A Knights Tale, Jekyll (it's a series, VERY good, I've mentioned it previously) and Tales from Earthsea -- an anime. Out of the four, there's only one I'm a bit wary about, and that's the anime. It will most likely be of good quality, granted, it's from ....eboch or somehting, studios, the son of a really good anime writer etc made it, buuut... the Earthsea series? the books? Nooot that great, I found. Perhaps I just couldn't get into them.

Anyways, the first trip was only brief, as we had a movie to catch. Hancock, starring Will Smith. Now, I know people have raved over it yadda yadda, but in all honesty it wasn't that great. Not totally horrid, but not that great either. Limited backstory, the reason explained away by the main characters 'amnesia', which was a rather shoddy excuse, I would have enjoyed the backstory, even if it was flashback. So, without giving too much away, I will say this -- worth the price of admission (around $12), but not the price of buying it. See it in cinema's or rent it if you're too slow, but as a permenant member of your DVD collection? No thankyou.

The second movie I saw, The Dark Knight, a batman film with Heath Ledger as the antagonist and I forget who was the protagonist (batman), but, it wasn't bad. Not great, but neither that bad. Some good CGI (I liked the way his motorbike comes out), and the special effects were pretty good, but the overall plotline? Not that great. Some -great- quotable lines in there, and unforeseen quirks of the storyline, but it was kinda mostly predictable. One of the lines I love;

"Madness is like gravity," (this was from the joker while he was strung upside down, courtesy of a bat-string) "All it needs is a little -push-."

So yeah. This, rent, buy, or see in cinema. The end was lovely, if unexpected, and it almost made me cry. :( BUT! I won't spoil it for you, so go and see it for yourself.

Lets see...what else...

Nope. I think -- oh!

I've grown! I'm slightly taller than I was last time I saw Xin hehe. Rather than him being about two inches taller than me, he's now half an inch. whoo! Go me. Go go go me.

Yes. Now I'm done.

Smile, it confuses people -- what have you been doing?

I just have to share this.

Sometimes, I wish I wasn't a soft, squishy marshmellow inside. I'm yet to stop crying from this.

Christian the Lion.



The last bit I don't agree with, the whole, get in contact with someone today etc, that irritates, but the rest...*sniffs* so sweet.

That lion totally doesn't remember them. Totally.

What would it be like, to have an affectionate cat twining around your ankles, except that his shoulder is at your waist? Staying upright with the normal domestic cat is enough of a struggle...but my god, how awesome would that be to have a LION demanding the same attention? *cries more*

Slaughter the World

Credits go to 'Looking for Group' webcomic it would seem, Youtube, Blindferret Entertainment, Ryan Sohmer and someaudioguy.blogspot.com.



and the words!

Excitement abounds
I almost can't wait
Relax, I don't want your baby
I already ate
Though I do tend to generally kill
Kill things that don't fight back

I see this village
What does it hold?
What shall I butcher them with
Fire or cold?

Running from me sure you'd think
'He's a pathological bloodthirsty homicidal maniac!'
I'd kill kittens and puppies and bunnies
I'd maim toddlers and teens and then more

You see a wife? I see a widow
But what then?
Can't you see?
I'd kill four!

I want to incinerate and decapitate
I want to melt
Want to melt some faces
Watching the peasants...what do they call it?
Ahh...grieve!

I suppose that being undead there's not much to life
A soul is needed for loving...feeling...
How does this all not make me...what's that word again?
Heave!

You've nowhere to hide
Nowhere to run
Your village will burn like the heart of the sun!
With infinite glee
It's going to be me
That slaughters the world!

How could I glare into these eyes
And then not stab them?
How could I stare at their loss
And then not laugh?

I'd cut him in half
Then I'd graft
His head back onto his shoulders
Or after I'd lop it
I'd make a puppet
On top of a staff!

I am a lord
that is sometimes bored
Have some urges and need to fulfill them
After my mayhem I simply don't...what's the word?
Care!

The stench in the air
The smell of the gore
The carnage far greater than any war

My legacy
Death becomes...me!
I'll slaughter the world


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah yes, I think this is funny, and wonderful, and...Hehe, I can see myself so totally taking this on as my motto or something.

'with infinite glee
it is going to be me
that slaughters the world'


Ah...bliss. ^_^