All Thats Left Of Our Stars

My skin

Soaked in sin

It's sagging

If you dont see whats fucked up about this don't follow this blog.

Maybe ill just end my sentences with an asterisk instead of a period because I always feel the need to clarify something I said later*

My arms outstretched

Palms on the wall

The mirror, the window, looking at me

Reflecting both of us

And neither of us

At the same time

Thinking about this time this dude in NYC was peddling his rap album to me and he was trying to gas me up, something to the effect of

"You know what I mean right, you (my dick) pretty big."

And i was like

"No."

Realms of Fantasy

I often lie awake wondering about the time spent escaping. Embodying views of another mind as my life is consumed in fiction. I inevitably wonder whether I am real at all, surrounding my supposedly real life in fantasy and feeling more connected to the dream...maybe I'd prefer things not be real? Even the reality of carnal instinct is intertwined with fetishes bordering on dreams...furry ferocity only emboldened inside my own heart.

I toil and toll, i till my soul until the words come out as such. In this lost lullaby of words I feel more real then reality. Though I have the desire to break free, like many like me I am too socially anxious, disabled, perhaps both, to properly propel my truest self. Besides poetry I am behind...I yearn for a behind worthy of carnal worship...a gaze of its own, like eyes of its own, undressing me as I undress it.

I've been a furry officially for about 10 years now, but the pieces, as unnamable and esoteric as they may be, have always been there. Even something as simple as yearning for a childhood bear, before memories were formed.

(This is a planned opening exerpt for my furry zine "Zoomies". I'm still in the process of looking for local writers and artists but when I have something solid ill post images)

I love these lil guys

Benadrilled

I looked for awnsers on the pyschonaut wiki for symptoms of recreational benadryl use

I have found the awnsers I wasn't seeking. Here in my tired eye I see the human condition, and it is unbearably lonely.

I skirted an empty void like a water bug on a puddle, to me this puddle was an entire ocean

In the Breaking Bad episode "Fly", sandwhiched somewhere almost exactly in the middle of the show, Jesse Pinkman drugs an increasingly volatile and unhinged Walter White to finish a drug cook he was otherwise interfering with.

Though Benadryl is most typically used as perscribed for sleep, it is becoming more widely known in modern times as an OTC recreational drug. Those who take large doses to try and achieve its hallucinegenic effects often have terrible trips, and people have been known to fatally overdose.

Ive personally have never experianced worse depressive episodes then I did hungover from Benadryl. My past abusing otc drugs is a fly in my sobriety from such substances. When I find myself in the clutches of addiction, everything was always contaminated. Nostalgia I think is a yearning for a percieved serenity that doesn't exist. A desire to escape ones own mind that outweighs the pains of drug abuse, a self harm in and of itself.

I never wanted to quit drugs more then when I was in the throws of drugs like DXM and Benadryl. I wallow in this feeling of death with the fear I've lived too long. My body is a rickety ladder on top of boxes on wheels.

I dream of an afterlife, hope as I do for a sign like water...on mars...

I dont know from which mod this book came from but it's an excellent addition to the lore, and a wonderful story. Reminds me of the Argonian account insofar as it both builds an less familair elder scrolls setting and tells an interesting funny story to boot.

(It might be Books, Books Books? Its probably that mod)

Me: Its 2am I really should sleep

My brain: But what if you imagined Applejack as a trans fem ***** ***** with a huge ***** **** and a beard, ******* your ***** *******

(Have fun filling in the blanks)

None of us are free from sin.