Tuesday, 14 November 2017

Game

A centipede crawls over broken glass, as he swings his rifle around and fires into nothingness. White spiral scars cover his skin, his jaw slack, his mouth a gormless rotting hole, he stalks a dimly lit cave, a gun mounted flashlight cuts through the black, he tunnels on through. He unsheath his knife, and spires a huge snail with a precise crunch, then eats it, crushing shell to a green pulp then swallows. Searches alert for his prey. A game, his game, he planned preforms and stars in. ... He hears the Ratmen horning their blades, their whispering dull in the vacuum, as one suddenly sprints into view, hardening his cock in seconds, he catches up in long loping strides severing its spine from behind in a swift swipe, in gouts of blood, decapitating his prey, then moves on stepping on insects in his wake.


An endless plunge into the vortex of fantasy. 2D and mindless.


A Ratman lays low hidden studying Ben’s manic malign light oncoming, its dagger at the ready, Player One two strides near. …  Boom! The rat's head bursts like a pulped yam in a pink mist.  Always one step ahead (a game cheat). Brain matter slides down wall, he stares transfixed. A moment later another, his arm swelling around its neck. The first cut: the rest follow. Razor blade cuts flesh. Skin parted for an instant mottled white blood spurts, screams cease. And then their was two.

(The FPS 1993 video game DOOM the “blueprint”). He spits, reloads and moves on. His 32-bit thought resumes. Boom! A ratman reduced to pink wet rubble in a white plume of smoke. … He spits, cocks the hammer and moves on. ... The last Ratman submits freely to horrendous torture and death. “Game Over” he mutters. (Level one complete. Stats: 97%.

Friday, 14 April 2017

Obsessive Complications 10

The Cosmos, pinprick stars. Black. I stumble out, a righteous sense. The words that follow, I, this point in time. 04:06 am. Lithium, Wormwood, Cocaine, 4-Methylmethylphenidate, Ketamin & other poisons. Wisdom teeth sprouting, an abscess & a grey hair. … Consciousness (a sickness,) it separates slowly from the unconscious (filth repressed) & so all proceeds into deepest darkness. Ego (Me. I, Always, It), super-ego (racist, right-wing, tory, homophobe, misogynistic, abusive: Father) the id (infantile, pervert, magic, spirit, soul, scatological, imagination, madness, laughter, innocence, primitive, animism, demonic). Drove out, expelled, banished. Woe to him! I rejoice in ritual … A listless sexual drive of an 80-year-old, Vicar of Christ. So, therefore, miserable, misanthropic with nihilistic tendencies. I detest nature, children, poetry, music, democracy & the liberal arts. I Love, tower-blocks, council houses, asbestos, bricks, concrete & plastic. I'm a thorough troglodyte, hermit, recluse, loner etc. Weirdos, creeps, losers etc., I have attained their level, nothing less! A dogmatic Uber-Nihil Inbred – a self-regarding consumer slave/Lumpen-proletariat – Trash-man. I sometimes write too (if only concerning one's self/ego) ... IObsessidipus!” (my portmanteau). Soul still intact. A former practitioner of ecstatic drug ritual, sex magick & self-mutilation (радéния). I like words, my favourite: CUNT … 03:23 am (& if you're still reading this, well done!). 3,333.3. I don't like 4, 5 or 6 … I like the lunacy of silver moon's, terrestrial stars, White Dwarfs & celestial lights. ... Therapeutic Therapy in Syntax, it helps, a string of words (yes, self-absorbed, pity drivel) but it helps (couch, rat-man, little Hans, the professor, $$$, not needed) 05:01 am … A Pointless Biographical List: 31 years old, male, pathophysiological shyness, unemployed, 1985, library card carrier, OCD suffer, bibliophile, UFO enthusiasts, narcissi, Oedipus, amphetamine addict, alcoholic, cartoonist, dowser, “Special Needs” student, dyslexic, masochist, sadist, Shih Tzu lover, Jewish mystic, sarcastic bore, delusional, a benefits cheat, communist, occultist, fool, believer, unbeliever, with firm belief in nothing, egotistical brat, selfish, pervert, low-life & so on & so forth. … So Finally!: a Neurotic Mancunian Degenerate Primate, with artistic pretensions & problems. … 03:27 am, & a vainglorious member of the Inhuman Race. 

Saturday, 14 January 2017

GBL

I flick through a pharmacopoeia folded yellow paper highlights emerge, relapse - prolapse, so forth. The fish pie - furring over - a pale-green fur...SLIME! Shit stain sheets removed, intravenous – tapped, pumped full of benzodiazepines - sweat shimmer in the shite I stare at faces, nothing more! Back on the rack - back cracked and creaked with the rack - drip dripped I dwell and dwindled, act among the course - corned beef, with its anaemic skin. Odour – ammonia machinations, mentions Moorside, parallax projections paralysis follow - paranoiac projections etc., oral objections, fuck off the ward - resume, free up the rack, so to speak, drip will stop. Seeping pores - a slimy sweat, the ward took on a warped definition, clogging coiling tubes issuing out black blood beyond foolish despair, nightmares continued, old men died slowly farting as they went. Heart racing - pulse slow – skin a cracked desert of lines - I stared into them, deepened blue Stilton complexion - Pass out – burnt out boiling, so to speak, dreamless sleep followed, delirium puke – black formations – wasp-like whispers icy fire burning flesh - greasy Gamma seeping spewing shit - death linger language - nonsense now – visceral viscid heat ignite notions of abnormality - fucked finished, a nurse forces in another pricked cord, eyes take on a yellow hue - crawling skin - ashamed a smell rises falls - rises falls - filth disinfectant follows. Shit is a stubborn stain - matter matron? Matter? Made flesh renal repel fleshed out cropped warts withered mind muddled by obsessive compulsions - compulsive obsessions - slaughterhouse of retched inanities, noxious undernourished flesh taking on a green tint. Broken retention, drip still dripping – QUACK! Hydrochloric vomit reptilian yack - scratching the barrel - dry discharge -ethylene tickle unceasing. Passing out again, so to speak, vomit followed - hysterical – voicelessness - arctic flame - fiery flesh oily Gamma oozing faecal matter expiring communication tortured today – sticky heat erupt. Another nurse forces in another pricked line - eyes take on a pink hue - creeping peeling - numerous remarks – predictions - palsy followed. Paranoid projections pissed up the wall. The psyche is never hatched, nor does it ever cease, nor does it turn later state hatched. For it is unhatched, ageless, perpetual and primal even though the body is dead, the psyche is not – humiliation – mutilation stimulate neurotic obsessional - abattoir spasm - degrading malnourished - taking on a another tone, memory trickles till dripping intravenous - bound with tubing - cerebral – paralysis. I pause to record I feel retched of course always have. Enough! Humour withered - wired full of anxiolytic, stew shine in the shite I gaze, nothing more! Back on the frame, back chapped and creaking with the wrack the dribble dripped I brood, and diminish - pink eyes act among the course - cured meat - rind ripped raw - before its time - tiny little time - slippery secretion - the ward took on a another definition - spiralling tubes - absurd desperation - demented dreams continued. Elderly hands ceased quickly screaming as they went - pumped full - stuffed with cotton wool. Sheets still soiled – incrustations, streaked with silt -the bed-frame creaked with the rhythm of a spine - twisting deformation myriad of memories festering in the corners of a mind - encrusting insects crept across flesh. A conical shade protrusive steaming vegetation - stomach fluttering dry dust in a fine skim. The sleep I did get - was inconceivable in its delirium - Moorside followed.

Thursday, 22 December 2016

Obsessive Complications 9

Another day moon - blazing 7 am web folly forgotten locked in a private act night before a salient artefact - light unbroken peculiar frequency collides with prism – kaleidoscopical filth flux solar anus ruptured … another day another litre – tesco cheap coins exchanged with embarrassed smiles 8 am another day celestial crescent exiled satellite broadcasting mindless chatter across an electric blue sky I people mostly & animals also I realised that one would soon see the full magnitude – of the game of non-being being played out to drive one mad utterly mindless vacuous lunacy … a spectre: Ashtaroth looms malevolent - mother a knavish cunt gained upper hand again - again ... yhwh/elohim/divine creator/lord/god ... but fallen dead throne-less absent king senile madman one's deplorable thoughts unsuppressed a reasoning regression words null & void syntax & structure shat upon - linguistic fabrications form merge bubbling foamy slick slimy slippery vile concoction - liquefied language meaning without sense - sense rendered nonsense shrieking pink embryonic creature shrieking indefinitely 12 pm & here I am what day is it ... birth mama – matrix – most – mysterious … the panting stops distant & beyond normal logic - nonsense now - dust bluish celestial sphere immense demonic dominion chaotic order declared fear follows - paranoia-schizoid-position-depressive-abandon-obsessed-deluded-delusional-disorder & a race who sees it's self as a victim

Detox: Part 2

Morbid desire. Leucotomy pissed, walls crawling with lice and phosphorescence spiders, specks of delirium, a life liquidated. Aching viscus a preserved but empty spirit dying - liver secreting neon green bile. Foul formation, streaked with slimy shit. Creaking floorboards underfoot, twisting spiralling inward contortions, memories perverse - filthy festering in the toilet bowl, steaming shithole filth fauna, puking … third hour in. Brain-pan, sunken entangled infliction. Voices. Small cartoon pink elephant's float like children's balloons, condition rancid. Steaming rank - worse than shit. Dry retch pungent odour of sulphur. Weeping, muttering, forgiveness. Please. Saw-toothed - spit, lustrous brown sponge-like lungs expire, a saccharine vapour. Encephalopathy follows, greenish vomit. Maggot riddled bowls, withdrawal fierce – merciless. Pale plants decomposed in fast-forward. Ingrowing neurosis malady endless ... sleep just a seep – boil on neck swelling- secreting … raped chatter, internal - eternal – extreme screams … Fermented manure – brown-yellow piss excrete. Skin pimpled goose flesh – yellow. Eyes yellow vessels burst blood-shot, leaking toxic tears, pale slime snot issued out in streams. The floorboards covered in a skim of greying glutinous mucus – kneeling praying … spitting … swearing … sneezing out filth. Clotting black blood, incessant and hysterical still more screaming, congealing toxic slurry surging liquid shit. Choking up intestinal tissue, pinkish white tripe - marrow excretion, fragmentation thoughts fermenting fragrant rancid, phlegm luminous green. Pernicious warped words issue out!   

Friday, 16 December 2016

Detox

My only visible human characteristic was a pathological craving for alcohol. Chemically lobotomised. My job lost, my family far away, a philosophy degree piss up a wall in a metaphysical liquidation. Only a word to cast into the dying void, an aching liver a dried up soul. Something had to give, so the drinking stopped...An epiphany, perhaps?
I drifted towards the dark heart of detox with a trembling fatigue, stretched out on my bed sweating out my soul, braced for the lance of a five-year boil. The alcoholic depressant was drawn out in a steady stream, as five weeks issued out in fragments:
Week 1: A circle of pain seeps around the cranium, submerged in an entanglement of blackthorn and vascular vines. Voices whisper as the light bulb glows intensely bursting like a blister - flickering pink butterflies in a flutter out into the atmosphere. Head dipped into the bucket beside the bed, his cackling retch igniting an acrid smell of sulphur as his stomach consumed itself - catalysis combustions – insomnia the works.
Week 2: It started with a sneeze - several times in succession – flecking the bedsheets in luminous snot - peppermint green. Demented hallucinations enmesh the bedroom walls - creeping ivy - beryl moss and belladonnas - coiling dreams - chills shakes, a cyst the size of crystallised oyster. His flesh tissue now fluoresces yellow, and an uncontrollable tremor – insistent. As for Sunday night sprouts into Monday morning.
Week 3: The sheets were filthy – incrustations, streaked with silt. The bed frame creaking with the rhythm of the spine, twisting contortions. A myriad of memories festering in the corners of his mind, encrusting crabs crept across his flesh. A conical lampshade protruding from the steaming vegetation of the carpet - casting a huge moth upon the ceiling fluttering dry dust in a fine skim across an otherwise sticky week. What little sleep he did get - was imaginable in its delirium.
Week 4: Uneventful, but for two points in particular. 1) Unfurling from TV screen in an amusing manner, a pink tongue flaccid and furring over within seconds like a piece of ripe fruit, decaying in fast-forward. 2) A Venus flytrap rising from a bundle of cables - serrated teeth, glistening green it's spongy lungs exhaling a sweet smelling vapour..The week concluding with epileptic fits and more green puke. A Phosphorescent worm burrowed in the fifth, as the withdrawal dwindled.
He Gazed at the once white lilies on the window ledge - a shade of cognac brown now. The ingrown psychosis somewhat cropped...Sickness subsided...delusions, just a seep - clearing up with the cysts...his reptilian cackle – a distant hiss... Friday fermented into a soft vegetation. He lay there shimmering away in his own juices, a smile creeping across his face. The worse was over.
He Rolled in his bed from left to right, right to left, twisting the sheets into a moist cocoon, and fell into a deep perverse sleep. Hours of vomiting, ending in a strange euphoria.

Thursday, 24 March 2016

Cut-Up: Calculating Cultural Waste

Goose-stepping municipal waste into the ground, the mechanism driven by pressing currents of sexual excitation uncontrolled forces minds driven mad men women screaming in the straitjackets brains bashed by batons pink matter seeps from cracked skulls rose pink however fragmentary the souls deserved reshaping hard machines deliver shocking murders cracking Christian skulls in two, explosive heads bursting into pink petals blue veins immaculate shards of Ketamin cutting through liver-less species laughing hysterically cured tuberculoid freaks out of style you will enjoy your lifeless brute roughly comparable stages in all children 'Social Monster' but Jesus said it is imposable for a rich man to be good -  multisecular  stability - primeval slime languages should fail.

Cracking skulls causing matter to splatter but they each assign to such terminal string unrestricted rewriting symptoms I feel old, old or even older ancient worship of the Golden Calf, Geraniums grow and grow they pre-existed from time immaculate humiliation mutilation maximum overdrive.

Dimensions old bloated space rocket white with purple tip, fractured day broken looking glass as Alice shatters into a thousand pieces tiny white spiders consumed eyes. Nymphomaniac obnoxious obscene motherfuckers! Who fuck up you, me anyone, hung smoked umbilical-cords, deep fried liver, cured meat man slaughter, a bit of Irish soil blood and vomit mandrake root screams as its pulled free from the soil, green buds burn, turd! Needle passed through a camels eye ,cut-up, cut-down, cut it the fuck up!

America interrupted Yahweh Live TV News to announce the tragic transmission-loss resulting in bacterially exhausted natives, who are not convinced with white fanged hissing of the million strong Proteansisssisyphean movement, vivid colours are contrasted against mottled hues lending a kinetic sublime vibrancy to a tiny asylum cell, compulsive urge of the oil painter expresses the primal destiny latent in the medium, plus to comprehend the psychological layering we must peel back the membranes to observe the axiomatic complexities of the male subjects perverse anatomy.

Absent placenta, umbilical cord – dried and cured, the botched second coming was inevitable,
'I prefer not to understand what is going on around me, making it easier to impose my own subjective image upon the external world.', it said with pain, isolation, hate.

The Lumpen-Intelligentsia had its position set firmly in the form of physical
hostility towards the 'Neurology Advancement' departments, waves of cluster migraines plus
bending of antenna-aerials causing optimum irritation of its central nervous system seldom ceased,
beads on the abacus of our calculations is the way of the manipulator, sliding minds into evermore endless algebra of stupidity, time, space – neither life nor death is the solution.

Psycho-physiologically polymorphous multi-formed men and women preside the invisible hierarchies of inner physics, amphetamine is used for hyper-stimulating the psychosexual – scatological primal slime of the higher hierarchies, who push forth in their ceaseless pursuit in constructing some labyrinth from within that can contain Horus, and experiment upon his eye in the pursuit of maximum surveillance of the population.


Unreal man'ipulator, mottled bovine skull, meat puppets plucked postures, sleep starve citizens of transsexual secret solicit society's. Children smoke white dragons tin silver flutes. Polymorphous perverted men – women vomit. 

Monday, 15 February 2016

Decay


 The mucus worsening - lungs - fucked – infected – putrefying slime. Coughing, choking churning up luminous green secretions, fingernails, split, hands cover in tiny lesions, crack too. Eyes putrid infectious worms dig – rings within rings within rings – Retinas fried from pornography too. Amalgamated emotions, cut-adrift confused alien almost. Still searching: Nothing. Growth stunted, ego too, spirituality dead – white stained – abuse etc. Christ, tolerated – sold-out-martyred kitsch and Catholic – or a guilty Jew? Prophet - gives way to profits, giving way to greed, from Superstar to scandal, in the end, bankrupt morally an otherwise and so on and so forth. He rolls a thin cigarette. Pours black coffee and thinks to leave the house … Fail-failing-failed-failure he thought. From senility to senile dementia ... Lobotomy in the end if lucky. Pouring another coffee, he thinks about leaving the house.

Monday, 8 February 2016

Lush

Panic-stricken sliding beneath my skin like sleek needles beneath the flesh. Hands rattling, eyes bloodshot, skin a greenish yellow – liver emerald green. He gulped a mouthful of Vodka just to see straight, he crawled out if his pit, he had pissed the bed, but a shower was out of the question – his skin was to sensitive to water the thought gave him a skin crawling sensation. He pissed out along brown stream into the steaming bowl then flushes. Then suddenly starting vomiting and shitting himself. Like a punch to the liver he hits the tiled floors covered in rank fluids...This was a new low – rock bottom, he got up searching for something to drink, he found a bottle of Turpentine and rabidly downed the bottle, suddenly he collapsed again before projectile vomiting phosphorus green sick everywhere, falling into a deep delirium – 'Toxicity homo sapiens rigorous calculate industrial pollution from unnatural evolution of the alcoholic human waste deaddeaddeaddead,' he droned, before a rapid spine snapping skull rupturing convulsion finished him off.

Saturday, 6 February 2016

One...Two...Three

sacred Lord the One formed in radical solitude secularization psyche via psychoanalysis – poly-schizo-morbity pathologised by the tight super-unity of the id ego & superego – Father Son & the Holy Ghost One...Two...Three this was Moon's mantra he stepped into his bleach bath to cleanse himself he jerked of in the bath over nothing special the spunk seeped out in a fine skim of slimy silk worms washed away pulling the plug & dried his burning greasing body he focused on the vortex of water while he repeated mentally his mantra One...Two...Three dry he now set to the exhausting ritual of scrubbing his teeth, which he did everyday for and hour exactly gums raw as sushi he spat out wad of pink froth next he dressed mental rituals still running consciously...always next black coffee how he adored this common joy along with a line of amphetamine up lifing his obsessional neurotic nature he headed to his study to write he sensed nervously a slight sense of well being (this being uncommon) naturally put it down to the speed....couple hours later writing he got up for a shit after which he ritually showered while whispering under his breath One...Two...Three...

Tin-Foil

He had wrapped himself from head to toe in tinfoil and removed his fillings – holes for eyes and mouth, pupils pin pricks. One bedroom flat, entirely covered in tinfoil, between his head a constant orchestra of voices, a high pitched hiss – static. The room was periodically lit up 24/7 bright as day - blue flare strobing blasts of high frequency electricity through the air, a huge antenna on his foiled head. Absorbing all cathartic investigation into the blackened reiteration of psychic institutions, in short it worked. He had developed a whole host of involuntary ticks that chinked his foil – duct taping followed. As well as control of a 'Remote Con', used for manipulation Spiders, insects, riddled with them. Insects, literally to the brim of the bath – mechanical Spiders. Spending day after day - enlarged eye-glass inspection. Riddled. Cut-adrift, deafening one-dimensionality, he rolls eyes to heaven. A noxious insecticide gas he pumps cause nose bleed, stifled lungs, unconscious now he slides to the tiles, cocoons himself in foil. tinfoil mouth hole, shit, urine issue - mop and bucket - clean up. Then collapses a – cluster migraine, massive cardiac arrest follow - killing him, insects vanish.  

Wednesday, 3 February 2016

Pornography

Dribbling candles illuminate Rocco decaying walls bleed spores with pink ornate, exquisite. Calligraphy scribbling black-blood upon an endless roll of unfurling manuscript, writing delirious, venereal fermentations - divine rank, rotten grapes and rancid tangerines oranges-black pulp bursting – haemorrhaging forth streams of blackened sore wine.
An obscenely obese quivering shadow danced on the wall. As furling rolls of yellow tissue paper, scribed as a goose feather fluttered, a cosmos - of syphilitic specks ink inscription, inscribed black - words in a perverse order.
Turds, piss and sperm, choking dogs, the whores tales - Coprophagous repeats consume excrete and eat obsessively repeats, time table arranged for the pigs, bloodshed - repeats pale white candle twitterers down to forms a wax-cake. A ripe sweat rotting pores excrete. Claret drank, pink Bom Boms – sucked to tiny white stones. Rich meat fill his pinky white digestive tract now infested, parasitic worm. Uprooted fungi, musk putrid puke, black faeces like truffles ingrown and rich - soil milk white - “Une Saison en Enfer”.
Projectile liquid shit ... A sense of danger crept over him, so terror he dug out a cavity in the damp wall now a crumbling plaster concealing the scroll. The recess veiled with slimy pink flowery wallpaper. So precious the work, vulnerable he sat. Tears of blood weeping, in a delirium slumber soon the Sunshine raised projecting prison bars cast – entombing him till dusk, guillotined-conscious-heads-rolled. He woke to piss, before he prepared his pens, nibs and quills. His ideas took form and his prick took hold, needle tight tract pumps reproductive mucus piteously.
Lice leaped, fleas spawned in a thick white froth.
The manuscript was alive forming thought - chapters, cycles, systems somatic semantics - pumping blood, fleshing out organs ceasing in fine drafting, finally formulating the Passions – murder - torture followed.
Quickly depositing “Sodom” within the cell wall. Prisoners clashed and soldiers responded with brute force, inflaming his tongue with a reptilian flicker, "Killing, they're Killing prisoners, innocent men! Storm the castle!" The Bastille was lit at last! From French Revolution to Citizen Sade, wept blood … Lost, Lost forever or not … 1904 Dr. Bloch …

Berlin psychiatrist Iwan Bloch (who used a pseudonym, "Dr. Eugen Dühren" to avoid controversy). It was not until the latter half of the 20th century that it became more widely available in countries such as United Kingdom, the United States and France. The original is located in the Musée des Lettres et Manuscrits, Paris, France” ... Les 120 Journées de Sodome ou l'école du libertinage … Krafft-Ebing – Sade – Sadism. Alas. 

Tuesday, 2 February 2016

Amen

In the grief of his seventies, cheap whisky sits him down to pray. 'We're all monkeys Amen', he stood his knees and back cracked, he popped out his meds – mostly for psychotic disorders – Lithium – Prozac – Depacote and a accumulation of anti-convulsants. He took them down with a swig of Whiskey, and collapsed back into his chair. Bitterness burning his lips. The toilet shivers, it's full of insects – earwigs, lice, centipedes, spiders and beetles, fat blue flies hover lazily above. He has little us of the bog - but for pissing, he's had chronic constipated for decades. Probably down to his Morphine habit he's enjoyed all his life. Unceasing confinement in this infernal room have scrambled his brain. His fridge is clean and Holy, in there where his vials of Morphine chilling along with the works. Vivid visions of pink poppy fields filled his mind. A lifelong nihilistic hate of snivelling humankind has kept him alive this far so he maintains his philosophy. He opens his fridge, removes a vial and syringe then returns to his chair. His arms are galaxy off purple track marks – he sucks up the Morphine and slides in into his neck with perfect precision pulling back the plunger blood combines beautifully with the Morphine before he slowly pushes the plunger down – a wash of pleasure flows through him as his eye balls transform into soft white boil eggs - gazing at the ceiling, towards God and St-Peter.      

Monday, 1 February 2016

Again

A distant laugher curdled my spine, waking me from my slumber. I had also pissed the bed, the laugher increased. A single Blackbird appeared on my window – a gestures of alleged void – it shat and left. Contemplating suicide, out of boredom. Glaring out the window at the cancerous sky, he drags himself out of bed to make breakfast he grabs two white stale slices of spore riddled bread and begins picking of the green fungus before sticking it in under the grill, he removes the burnt toast – spreading thick wads - rancid butter. Sitting in his chair he scoffs down the toast it's texture that of shards of glass. He boils the wheezing kettle – pours himself some lagoon black coffee, returns to his chair and drinks, burning tongue - he's still alive. Which was nice. He enjoys the bitter burning taste. The spacious room contained bare damp walls, bare damp floorboards, a toilet place beside the window, as well as a small oven and grill. here he lives...again and again.

Sunday, 31 January 2016

Limbo

The currents passed through my head with such slapstick silence I awoke in a haze of agony, white agony, the doctors seem a little unconcerned at my burned out sockets, at this point I pass out, later I was awakened by a man shaking my shoulder. Before dragging me by my feet from my bed,
placing me in purgatory – not unlike a place from your nightmare – the place was full of deformed waiting freaks, me included. My mind descended into a subterranean maze. My body literally translucent, the dead watched with fascination as they beat – pump. My arteries clearly visible a damned man remark on how I resemble a piece Blue Stilton....I thanked his as I waited. I felt ill at ease with all these dead things around me. I would gladly died at home. The room I was in now was entirely decked out with yellow brick, the occupants – all pale paper thin skin, a dwarf and a gaggle of female poisoned flowers, and the staring dead – damned for Hell, but not a bad bunch. Could all be much worse, this Hell.

Sunday, 24 January 2016

Linguistic Matter

I landed shitfaced upon a curb, in a slurred stupor, I noticed I was sat slumped next to a tramp, 'How are you oldman' I uttered, 'Just like his oldman's back teeth' he nasally replied, 'always in decay.' He continued 'Never mine cu..' cutting short in mid-sentence he began to puke forth a greenish bile, and then projectily verbally formed words of pure matter! Sometimes fully formed sentences, at other times just black wet letters spewing forth, forming a broken lingual alphabetic soup in his lap and across pavement. A slimy incomprehensible problem of communication continued - the soft syntax rapidly again issued out, he began to rhythmically retch out a few strings of jellfied soft sentences. Fully formed, one read: What is wrong with this tale? The tramp's linguistic sick fell forth again! to my disgust, another, this time deformed sentence retched forth: MatTerTinTeTnal LIn-guIstIc - laApsUs LinGuVe. All the while, his neck expanded, his eyes rolled in his head as - syllable combinations of an disorderly vile vomit - made all the more words – matter, so to speak. A sick expulsion of syllables, a barfted up syntax and signification, communication - miscommuntion. And amonst the saussurean spew - multi-coloured formed words flecked across the icy gavel, now steaming: Cunt, Arsecandle, tWat, beLOved kunt, bastard and prickend. Then as quick as it began it stopped - the steaming semantic puke ceased.... I stared - in a riger-mortis horror, the mans jaw now broken - yellow spat out teeth, bulging burst eyes now just two oozing pink yokes, did however to cry aloud in a guttural growl - 'Fuck me I nearly fucking choked on my own words!"

Friday, 6 November 2015

A se tordre


Truth and the lie, the rule and the sin, he might just sin, he must just grin then begin with sin indulge unbroken self absorbed. With his lonely lust laughter renews in roars splitting sides, but leaves one unnerved dissolving into confusion...Confused he rapidly grew old, pain followed sweet bitterness followed a taste and sensation of fornicating corpses, it lingered for about an hour.

I listened intently to my body rot. I had also forgot how humble and inhuman God was, this lifted my spirits momently lifted, for reasons unknown. “all the blood rushed to my head...the only place it does rush to these days”, I whispered. I was sure I could see the pearly gates, lifting the white vial in unison with my closing eyes. The vision: A white bearded male enthroned, only his profile was what

I saw, half his face out of sight.

Delirium naturally followed – General Christ Mohammed eyeless winked begging his pity and indulgence holding his chalice up to the Moon God, he sighed, before he spat out the following: “SHALOM AND SIEG HEIL!”, the Moon God cringed and a crater emerged the round deity deflated like black beach-ball in silence, the Lunacy vanished. Feeling quite uplifted now.

I now sit seated in the centre of my room on a golden throne, where I uttered “Why is there something instead of nothing?” laughter followed as he wiped his arse and pulled the chain a vortex removed the contents of the throne's basin - where it was banished into That netherworld.
His long sickness lifted from his soul that was located in his gut. But then boredom fell upon his mind and boredom followed boredom followed boredom followed boredom followed boredom ad- infinitum.

He prayed to return to his sickness, pain his splitting sides and blissful Purgatory. Ah! no he had not passed the pearly gates, yet smelled no burning sulphur of Hell Fire either. Suddenly a superior revolt of the mind overcome him restoring his beloved delirium, his sweat dripped like honey his prayer was answered. His retching metamorphosed to laughter.   

Monday, 4 May 2015

"Large Fish In Transit Sedative"

Or Spice as it's known.
STRAWBERRY.
BLUE BERRYCRUSH.
BLUE CHEESE.
INSANITY.
PANDORA'S BOX.
NIGHTMARE Etc. Etc.

Brand names simple, straight to the point. Strengths confused.
Rendering berserk Tuna fish, Giant Stingray - Docile.
Rendering men/woman berserk. Teens displaying - burnt out sockets. And tiny IQ.
Bug-eyed hipsters screaming howling surging of forth with rancid imagery, hysterical laughter (Jesus The Laughter) Physical sensation segmented, translucent, slime - Worm-like.

Hysterical laughter... ribs bruised by laughter. Hysterical laughter.
A splintering of reality...Maddening Deja Vu -Vomit inducing.
Rare moments of pale green Reptilian angst.
Only three drawn on a lengthy joint, smoke forming into yellow clouds of napalm.
Tastes like old hardboard Asbestos. Kaleidoscopic fractal issuing infinity - a rare relief.

T.H.C receptors - metaphysically gang-raped culprits: Cannabinoids.
Adorning an electric green halo (this is four minutes in) I sit slumped.

Enmeshed wool wire, superimposed images of perverted acts. Immobile. Broken motor skills. Calm, madness unwinding, delirium follows. Image: fingernails breaking upon a blackboard.

Some take to it more than others.
Five minutes in sanity somewhat restored. The remaining clear black image: Large floating fish.

Monday, 6 April 2015

Butterflies

Unshaven week,
Fluttering itch is
Merciless inside.
Clank-clank glass
Bottles chime,
Outside I avoid
Eyes and dogs shit.
I move on as a cold sweat
Of winter creeps up my back.
Poison stings the butterflies soon dry dust.

Tuesday, 7 October 2014

The Mechanical Eye


The Mechanical Eye Opens: Pan-zoom - enclosed in a tight room, a nest of optic fibre wire - Females and Males entangled, ensnared penetrated, burnt out black sockets where their eyes once where. Pan away Humpty Dumpty awaits execution, blind-folded. A firing squad fire...the egg bursts open, translucent goo ruptured red yoke, shattered shell.
'Depravity!' he shouted before swinging his penis in a figure eight. 'Cunts!' He snarled 'I've gotta piss' he continued in a guttural American accent, gallons erupt over the observers masked beaks, feathered frills. The half-wit stretched from his leash, held by a one Steve Jobs, who sat leanly in his black turtle-neck, his expression that of a cynical horse, slightly back legs crossed, a plume of cigarette smoke ascended towards the ceiling - 'Apple' he whispered - seemly code for 'Spread your Buttocks Boy'. On Que the retarded boy did, he bent over squirting shit over Jobs and the masked gaggle of debauched guests. Jobs now furiously masturbating his thin pale cock, as he curled is upper lip and protruded his tongue slightly. He stands up before aggressively pulling the leash choking the boy, the guests start laughing as he strangles him to death.

Hours past the guest retire to their rooms, a smirking Steve covered in dried crusted filth begins to undress. The camera pans away we're alone with Jobs naked sat in lotus, the room filled with kaleidoscopic luminous light, he is smoking a small glass pipe - DMT. A sudden gush of rainbow rays spew from every orifice of his thin body. He begins to levitate legs still cross back straight before he suddenly starts spinning in mid air rapidly the rays of light pull round him in mad multicoloured vortex a successions of cracks ring out as his spinal column breaks, and his eyes squeeze free. A huge bronze Buddha laughs in an endless loop.
The gallows - a half mile high platform, the fibre wire noose sinks into his plump doughy neck, his blond hair wisps in the wind as he glances down into a glowing pit of a million Mancunian eyes. Pan around the corner - And welcome to Id Street Meat Market world renowned for fresh prime meat. Zoom back to the flabby sweat drenched shivering Boris Johnson, his white flesh quivering like pale jelly. His prawn-like prick - pink. The block is knocked the trapdoor flings open a second passes (The four mega screens zoom in, surrounding the gardens) - the thin wire recoils as his wobbly body bounces in one fat snap the spine splits then protrudes, streams of blood and excrement are expelled in unison over the screaming gleaming crowds of onlookers, an eye pops as his head splits at the seams emitting a farting sound distant in the wind. The slow motion footage replays on the monolithic screens to howls of laughter as his eye slowly emerges in a trail of connective tissue, and projected body ripples rolls of flesh, his erect penis barely visible. His next drop off will be the meat market Id Street Meat Market also known as Butcher's Alley, a narrow cobbled Mancunian mile long Nightmare, money making machine - Meat meets Porn multiple murders murky deeds seedy inclosed cabal - extreme porn human meat, Snuff, abattoir, butchers - studios - Men's Club. Where the gates close on either end - iron. Alchemy - shit turns to gold - heavily involved with 'The Breakfast Club' on Incess Street - SaVile Row - telepathically link to THE AVENUE aka God's Lane its landlord a one Mr Anderton once Chief Constable now Mayor of Ale, Shire, he also oversee's The Experiment (one of many) know as E-State 008 his own mutant making camp/Farm/Housing project and Rendering plant, to name but a few of its uses. Gang ridden of course - The Pervs, The Bifdicks, The Boshian Dregs, The Pervert Mechanics, Militant Wizz, The Blue Bottle Flies, Cybernetic Necrophiles etc. etc. But we are off again....Back to Id Street Meat Market huge bulging wire cages crammed full with lobotomised forced feed morbidly obese naked human meat pink flesh flecked with tiny lesions swollen black rotten ankles and feet, ball-gagged drooling semi conscience flies feeding off their secretions maggots squirming from every orifice. Buckets full to the brim with tripe a thin crust covering the exposed guts. Genetically modified multi-headed dogs hung alive from meat hooks lining the blacked out porn shops, huge wooden carts full of naked bodies flesh fused together electronic cables penetrating the mass causing it to twitch violently. Inside camera's rolled as conjoined anorexic female twins are mounted by mutant pigs with transparent flesh squealing with each thrushed. Beside a naked dwarf fists a leather clad goat while grinning into the lens. Another shop/studio shows Micky Mouse masked men raping children before skinning them alive. Manchester: politically ultra Fascist since 2040, 'Genocide Therapy' liquidated most of the opposition, The Blackshirts Massive Technological advantaged (funded by The Thatcher Research Society) deranged threats and The Virus restored the hate and exploitation, the true soul of England then thrived. There supply of 'Chickens' (Children) the tender meats - SaVile Row originally known as Rusholme (Cleansed of ethics 5th May 2036 a two-day dirty campaign and carpet bombing. The Blackshirt Mutations and the advancement in Transhumanism and human cloning, cybernetics, nanotechnology rapidly grew into advanced perverted splinter networks, known as 'The Units'. Sir Jimmy Savile OBE, cyborg philanthropist, tycoon, psychotherapist and Chairman of The Society for Manipulation, control and Exploitive research and leader of one the largest Units in England. An intimidating figure after 'Transfiguration' standing nine foot, gold plated tracksuit enormous gold chains and hooks, a huge cigar ring the optic eyes.
His white hair, his back a circuit board sprouting hundreds of wires into the back of his cranium.  His eyes bulged with cocaine and self-confidence. 
The Mechanical Eye Opens: The Eye continues its comic analysis - picking litter, looking for the letter. Black rimmed hat, drinking a pint of bitter, eyes as blank as paper, ripe orange blistering nose dripping pale amber snot, wild white beard that moves slowly up and down, as he drinks his ale, sinking into his chair, one must not laugh but his senile dementia had seemly transformed his appearance into one of them Josh Kirby - Goblin type creatures that beautifully cover his books.
 ○
A coil of blue smoke rises from the orange tip of drooping incense stick. A voice 'We are all apart' followed, as yellow mist falls. Translucent jelly like columns of paper are being prepared for the process of propaganda.
First of the Great Farcical Fumbles involving MI5/MI6/ in a Paranoid Post 9/11 London, and a particularly nasty one....
He sprinted as one would with three men brandishing guns shouting 'Get down! Get down!'...'The Terrorist' heading for the Underground or Brazilian bum waxer - cocaine user and now Suicide Bomber - 50% certain, so he ran and he ran fast - a fit man also a gym instructor he was down them subway stairs like a whippet plain black clothed gunman or MI6 operatives trailing behind he was through the train doors slumped breathing heavy as one would expect, dripping sweat as the doors closed he had made it. - Perhaps just a strange London ritual - not been here long. Haha just a like prank - got 'Punkd' or a 'Trigger happy TV' set up them guys! The train didn't budge - this was gonna bad , he thought as he saw two of the men who had been chashing him, now screaming at the driver 'Fuckin fat cunt open the doors!, Police - secret service the Law! Don't move this train, he has a BOMB!' So the doors open. The others on board, quickly depart - A sense of calm and deep loneliness and a sudden urge for home fill him. I don't like this place anymore. At this point the three agents pounce, throwing him onto his front, his body was wet his thin jogging pant clung to his hard tight buttocks cleft which was riding up as an agent sat his heavy body onto the captives buttocks then followed this by the classic restrain - pulling the arms around the back, push up to increase the pain push down to decrease the pain. The agent had peculiar expression on his face, slight curling of upper lip, odd muttering under breath, now the second agent stood and pinned both of the suspects akles to the floor twisting them out to the right. A yelp issued from his lips, as much as his lungs could produce not a scream but a whimper, as the third agent knelt then kneel his shin across the boys (because he was a boy) neck. Choke hold lift to relief pressure pressed down to increase pain, and induced choking....
He didn't look a day over sixteen, handsome, clean shaven dark olive skin, face now a turning shade of purple, still beautiful suffering, the agent now gripping hold of his drenched black slight curly hair, the agent almost intoxicated by the boys odour, pure, he would normally the - Agent that is, dry retch in the Squash court changing rooms, as he watched flabby white men sweating beads, foul body odour, like ripe mature pieces of Stilton cheese, blue veins ran through the older men legs, causing the agent to sometimes run into a cubicle and vomit up his lunch. - These images intrusive, where quickly overridden, with an excited agaition as he twisted the kids head towards him, and rammed his Pistol into the temple, gripping the pistols with his greasy hand he squeezed his trigger following five more in rapid succession pumping six bullets (because one is never enough, with a knife a murderer driven by passion, the victim can be stabbed up to five hundered times or more till the blade snaps. However these men are not sadistic perverts, but professionals 'doing there job') into his head. The carriage, grey smoke clearing, echos fading, and then after a short silence, and almost in unison, the agents exhaled deeply, in relief.....

THE INQUEST: In his words to the 'Inquest'.....'Because I was convinced and still am that one bullet would have only stunned him, perhaps he would gain his senses blowing up the carriage endangering two of My Men, do you know how terrifying it is knowing you have a human bomb under you?'

'Ok but why the second bullet' snivelled the inquiry.'

'Urmm so it was urmm you see it was instinctive to fire twice it is but of commen knowledge two in the head down - Dead, in professnal combat cirles and the third well you see I had been suffering from, suffering in silence in fact from OCD, I have an obsessive need to switch lights on and off three times lock my house door three times ermmm yes and hand washing its torture a hellish torture so I had to fire the third, it was purely my illness, which has remarkably since vanished, and is why I'm fine now, postive news postive. The mentally handicapped and other deformities of the mind can erm well, you know? I know am down on record saying mental illness is a myth made up by the looney left and dole scum....but that....was before I suffered from it myself....it changed ones view. I am humbled I have since changed my views on the mentally weak which is a massive step for a man like me, if you had told me two years ago I would suffer from a mental weakness, I would have probably spat in your face'

'I see, and the forth bullet?' the inqury man asked sheepishly.

'Like I have just bloody told you! I had a sudden bout of OCD! Therefore firing the final three was from an overwhelming urge, to follow the first three to make up the six rounds fired, and finishing my ritual...This was the illness not me, so I had to fire six times and beside he was dead after the first bullet entered his head point blank straight into his skull, the bullets you see are designed to fragment causing maximum damage tearing through temporal lobes, turning his cebreal cortex...I think that its name - into... cheese...ermm swiss cheese. So I don't see the relevance of your questions, we're bloody heroes!' added the agent.

'I see however I would like to add for the record that he was not carry a bag, he was not even the right man in the flats you where monitoring. He was an innocent man, however it was stressed in the press and by MI6 - A Fact...that the coroners report did discover a fine trace of cocaine in his system, so there is something in the way of his total innocence, do you believe this was to warrant execution?' Said the inquiry.

'Yes I can say with me head held high that yes I do believe it warranted termination, with extreme prejudiced.' the agent said with such pride (That it draw no attention to Lucifers descent into Hell by God for transgressing the deadliest sin of all: Pride)

'Again just for the record' whimpered the inquiry, like a dying horse.

'You obviously could not have known there was Cocaine in his body, errmmm because that's impossible' the inquiry whispered, now feeling his soul slid down his leg towards Hell.

'Actually' concluded the agent, what is also more important than facts, in away are acts and they are what we must take and learn from this sorry affair, so need I say more?...need I say more?....And that's all he would ever say.

(Excluding THE DAILY MAIL, where he has since become a columnist with his 'The State of a Nation' articles. Where he forewarns his readers of 'Izlambiazzanybombexz' a Terrorist cell that in his words 'Makes the Taliban look like The Libral Democrats', his rambling debut article follows)

Izlambiazzanybombexz, The Video, My Struggle and My Warning
Unlike The Taliban this rapidly expanding sect follow passages from the Quran that they interpret as a sexual Jihad on the western world, and unlike The Taliban's now almost wearily boring Internet beheading videos. They instead have internet atrocity videos so called 'izzselxziontunc~`°☆ kcil~°`~doonnameccakshatzonheraceim★¡•◆ °Moporked santaic proheetzizt susejfoockeretah etah etah ate bezt ting to c`uuum¡~~□out ov izzreail is ta uzii deth ÷ mullah! 00 Guil-t r^idden man:£ind○○iiddofd×addy!Wellllll°lcooommmizimmmmmiissmeeeeeè_ scathiadeicolic - thist .les MotheHAM~idphilic act of Ally☆○~AMEN act of Gash'.........A sexual practice preformed on mostly blonde haired middle class western females, that are beyond depravity unlike anything ever seen before, making sicko porn online filth look like carry on films, 8hrs. It would be illegal to even describe, however it ends with the unrecognisable western female being eaten alive by two black burka wearing bastards! Elsewhere nude sect executioners are knelt in prayer. To that oh so familiar recorded prayer playing morning melody, however being played backwards its sinster rabble taking on a satanic tone. Hours pass all unutterable in this column, I had  at this point vomited eight times, pause, buckets exchaged - the film continues, the background paraphernalia which would normally be badly hung Islamic flags and AK47's, was instead adorned with what I can only describe as a large art collage of images from The Sun, The Mirror, The Sport, The Guardian, are Daily Mail, the now defunct News of the Word, spliced pages from numerous religious text - an endless array of cut and pasted UK sex sandals from over the year. Dozens of Jimmy Saville, Ken Barlow, The Hairy Cornflake' DLT, 'Freddie Star Ate my Hamster' and God only knows how many Catholic priest, an almost life size cut-out of Rolf Harris pasted on the wall with roughly cut out from and I assume an adult magazine, yes you guess it readers a huge penis pasted over his crotch, cheeky bearded smile his Catch Phrase 'Can you see what it is yet?'.

But it was then I realised as my eyes adjusted I pulled my head back from the blinking screen, as my vision began to tune in, my stomach turned as the college now - a metamorphosing-magic eye - drawn out an image of Maddy McCain's familiar smiling face, and as happens with these magic eye images I lost the picture returning back to the grotesque collage, noticing they had images of Drummer Lee Rigby again a slight light adjusted and I could see they had pasted over his face with a translucent image of Gad, or better known as Gary Glitter wearing his well known wig, naturally Salmon Rushdie was among it again interlinked with penis and breasts, they had That famous image of Rushdie from decades ago with, shockingly that cartoon image of The Prophet Muhammad that cause a massive stink a few years ago, was covering Rushdie unfairly,  the image overlayed with the prohibited skim seamed with that smile (a smug smile many claim caused much of the fuss and fury) above the image within an image was scrawled in white paint, these words - 'The Cartoon is on Your head now, be seeing you soon fat-twat×'.....Now you're probably thinking what's happening in the room on the screen not alot really, nothing compared to the passed 6hrs of ritualistic sex acts (if it could be even called sex) that would of made Crowley and his antics and followers seem like innocent speculating school boys. All Which are beyond legal disclaimer, BUT will be analysed in detail in my forthcoming book 'Sexbomb: The Perverse Rites' but yes back to the video, now a mere naked man wearing his black burka copulating with a goat, all tame stuff in comparison to the unutterable..(Read my book) the goats head is hacked off at some point and is used as some kind of sex receptacle, till the bugger defecates and passes out in sexual delirium. A now dim Islamic prayer slightly sped up this time, something that I barely even noticed along with the goat rape, because it seem normal compared to most of what I'd seen that is undoubtedly illegal and impossible to describe here in The Mail.(Read my book) They clearly had left the last hour for deep concentration and contemplation on what can only be described as a complex work of art that seemly had expanded unnoticed to be viewed in in detail almost filling the TV screen. Hypnotically with slight adjustments of light hues, picking out even more layers, beautiful arabesque mazes where a slight adjustment of light exposed as more images of gentiles interlocking penis and buttocks virgins, rectums, now most unfairly they had I noticed pasted pictures of PM David Cameron with his Late son. (Which some said was political posing) using his disabled son who's image now was merging with an eerily similar Nick Clegg, above was Kevin Webster - again white text this time written: 'Everyone knows you did it!' Next Fred the Weatherman one of the faces of the north-west ITN news now another sentenced for sex with underage boys, 'And what have we got for ta night well!' Aerial views of Manchester splayed across Thatcher then transferred from back and forth with flicks of amber light - A familiar face from the past with his great beard chief of police of Manchester 'God's Copper', images of Deansgate then Strangeways ebbing back to Rushdie's grinning face alongside Brady and Myra pictures now peeling and curling up around the edges. Now what had since been hypnotic backwards Islamic monophonic prayer mix, now seamlessly merged into truly a nightmarish robotic Stephen Hawking rhapsody repeating chant or mantra, this followed: SAL=DOM=RUSH=DIE=SAL=DOM=RUSH=DIE=SAL=DOM=RUSH=DIE=SAL=DOM=RUSH=DIE=SAL=DOM=MUST=DIE=SAL=MUST=DIE=SAL=DOM=MUST=DIE=SAL=DOM=RUSH=DIE=SAL=DOM=RUSH=DIE=SAL=DOM Ad-Infinitum. The cycle finally severed with Little Richards classic Tuti fruity dat do Tuti fruity dat DO!!! Seamlessly merged back to the haunting Islamic Muslim morning prayer..Again played in reverse.

Now all I can say is that time seemed to almost slow to a stop, as the screen seemingly engulfed me in a hallucination, where I stood observing, but not observed, the following - filthy crude farce in the flesh putrid smells, sick inept language forever soiling the green grass of my Middle England Soul, before the chimera charade ceased, and I was back in my dim room staring at a flicking TV static screen . unu
Note: What follows is documented in an unorthodox manner, TDM legal team and censors passed this episode, because its in the 'public interest' (The exposing of two wealthy debauched tax evading fraudulent Princess murdering conspirators)...So I repeat foul language, scatological sex and violence will follow YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. I may add for the 6hrs previous tirade of occult-islamic-satanical-deforming-deranging-psychotropic-debauched-Muslimphilica-sex god rising-slaughterhouse-ritual-Magic-hypnotic Performances, it is a pretty tame carry on for me, in comparison to (Buy my book, aforementioned, for the full exposed rites and are defence the Horror the putrid Druidlamic horrors that passed my eyes...Imprinting itself on my cerebral cortex FOREVER.

I remember the movement light was in constant flow always a light yellow changing hues too and fro but by this point I was luckily enable to vomit, just dry retch and stare - As the light took on gold sheen collage Maddy McCain above her head written: 'She is waiting for The Jihad solider's in Paradise One Allah's Virgins Proto-Sluts'. Her faces ages in fast forward and falls away For THE PROPHET MOHAMMED, there was nothing remarkable about him to me, just another arab, however his penis was a huge pork roger dripping excreta, that being the only interesting thing about this blown up, no pun intended 'Prophet'. The depravity took on 3D depth, as around me revealed more virgins females, mostly no older than ten, all blonde haired. The next reveal: Are Virgin Princess..Diana slumped unconscious as a morbidly obese Dodi violently thrusted repeatedly his member up her 'well-worn shit shelve'....And oh yes then He follows in the father the greasy flabby arsed well know billionaire sexual deviant...now smirking as he appears followed by his pet freak and utterly deranged self-proclaimed 'Peter Pan Pederast' shuffling grappling crutches beyond frail in paper thin pale green hospital ward pyjamas, as expected and probably guessed Michael 'Wacko Jacko' Jackson. MOHAMMED begins ramming coke up Diana's nose till its broke and streamed blood, Dodi continues pumping like a berserk gorilla at are Princess, as his father unzips and unbelted his expensive silk pants, they fall to his feet as Micheal lets his crutches fall and begins dancing in an identical way to the Late Northern 70s oddity Ian Curtis - rigidly epileptic dance throwing his arms around grinding his teeth, mimicking Curtis almost mockingly, identical facial expressions and ticks, spits continued his spastic grotesque parody of the late northern pop singer, beyond this Jacko looked like he had been only recently dug up and plastered in white makeover topped with curly late 80s afro wig.
Islamic Morning prayer boom LOUD in fast forward at least six times as fast, loud beyond demonic, Muhammad pulls down his grubby underpants revealing his gross revolting stubby legs like hairy lamb kababs, he squats his Arab olive grey arse and bulging rectum over are once beautiful Princess Diana's comatose now vacant and broken face, blood fizzing coke slurry drooling from her nose and mouth. Muhammad now straining like a shitting arab camel screams 'Arghhhhhhhhh lunch will be served very shortly dear!' His son Dodi, seemly oblivious to his Father at this point continues violently pounding repeatedly Diana, who is clearly now dead I assume by massive anal tremor, the prolapsed colan and intestinal tubing bursting out around Dodi who continues pounding faster faster, Diana's innards spewing scrections, a bloody mess. - 'Fu ka Her Moe !!,fuckerinnkrknk!, fuck shiteznozmother fuckijg face bithch!!!! Shkt In heft Mouth kuny alllsjah to dis! ,, Moe!moe! MooOEEEeeeedaddi tak ma spurtz kunt!!' Spits Dodi with his inept jibbrish, but at such a pitch he was almost in synch with that incomprehensible fast forwarded prayer screeching away maddeningly. - 'EAT CUNT!' Muhammad booms, as he strains hard his face turning purple as he excretes half digested rich greasy almost green liquid dung projecting diarrhoea over her face followed by a castor oil like screction, though it more resembled stomach bile - as gassy pulped yams and vegetable gas followed, yes a foul putrid mess flecked with bright green Coriander, and cumin seeds 'This bitch, is fuckin for your cunt queen and THEM FUCKIN DOGS SHE TREATS LIKE FUCKIN GOD's FUCKIN DACHSHUND RATS!' again he ranted as he pushed out a huge hard column of dark green shit studded with chickpeas and corn that must have been causing him collicky for months, but now was causing him excruciating colitis by the look on his winching face. He strained again propellants plastered her face, farting chortles, before again squeezing intensely causing a colossal colostomy piling pig dung upon her face, covering her entire head in rich codger crap, and shifting perhaps years of a coeliac disease I expect, and 'rewarding' Di her death mask. 'Concubine conceited cunt, no one fucks with me and my dad, you coquette, you like your food rich bitch, my dad - cordon bleu, you cretin!' Dodi concluded before collapsing. The prayer was hitting its crescendo as Michael collapsed in an identical manner to Curtis's spastic-spasms convulsing violently, Jackson skull caved in unsurprisingly dust and lice flowing from his skull, as his ridgid limbs snapped spewing a milky opiate fulid across a ozone smelling 'Paradise'.
However more followed as the squatting Mohammed began ranting insanly again, straining still harder rupturing his hemorrhoids, bursing like ripe black grapes but not producing so much as a chirp, but again - screamed! - 'ARGGGHHHHHH! COME ON ONE LAST SHIT FOR THAT CUNT CHARLES! CHARLATAN! CHAUVINIST! CHEAP! CHEAT! CAD! CHEERS BIG EARS!' Finally straining hard enough to cause a massive coronary cardiac arrest killing the chaperone instantly. And concluding this farce. As for me I was back before the glass screen without realising it, wiping the mecca off me.

I then stood up and wiped my myself off with my hanky, left the room trembling knowing that it made sicko web brazilian '2 girls 1 cup' look like a mere episode of 'Embarrassing Bodies' but worse of all in six hours I saw things that where humanly impossible, the only thing that can be described here is the tamest part the rest is illegal even to decribe in a abstract way in a mere tabloid paper though a fine one. It made 'Poor Ken's' Beheading Internet video, look like a hokey 1950s Hammer horror flick a 'Bela Lugosi beheading' rated PG.
But NOW know THIS there target is Middle England's Western Christian values, and are women! To there warped minds it all correlates with there reading of Quran's 'Virgin orgy Paradise, for All ha ha' 12:666...The practices named above and below ove can be read in a 100.000 different ways all Perversion, and just one of many Titles/Names/Spells, but just the words alone if understood makes the works of such evil writers such as Crowley, Trotsky and de Sade's entire works seem as tame as 50 shades of grey...tamer still - Mills & Boom. I may add the text below is just legally printable, because of DAILY attacks on The Daily Mail, from the loony left, however we believe its right to print, to at least prepare are Middle Class against this Islamic pandemic: An 'Izlambloolcockkk' Chant/Practice title/Spell...I advise to read with caution, and prepare yourselfs for this incoming Islamic Virus.
(The Agent, writer of the controversial book 'Sexbomb: The Perverse Rites') 09/01/14

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The Mechanical Eye Opens: creeping around the moss covered psych ward, shit stained linoleum. The smell putrid. He pushes himself through the zombie-like gaggle, and approaches a yellow door, tentacles pink and white emerged from it before, from under and around - retreating. Entering, a rotting fish smell is almost unbearable, tentacles covered the walls. The scene that followed: A paper-thin shriveled Mother Teresa, her arm almost jellified and handcuffed to a steaming radiator, clearly long since dead. A bearded man sat behind an oak desk, wrists bearded - slit drying blood covering most of the desk. Name tag read Terry Waite.
Everyman should have a hobby: Mr Toon was poison he had been experimenting on small pets, wild animals from cats to horses gradually making his way up to humans, slipping it into food, drinks eardrops even tainting toilet rolls in every hotel he visited, its quite remarkable he had not yet been rumbled. Ha Ha! (But this was the 30s and with easy access to an array of poisons, and money me being a man of wealth.) The strange thing was how many of victims died, how painful it was, or even if they survived, didn't have the slightest interest to me, my pleasure came from simply how I administrated it, to distant friends, family and strangers. I'm a travelling man I don't wanna settle down until - tomorrow.

(The following was wrote by Jacob Toon (2005)
(Poisons used by Charles de Toon:
1) Ricin
2) Arsenic (a favourite of Toon, sent less, tasteless dissolves in water and could be bought from your local store where it was sold as 'Rat Killer', a fucking child could buy it with there pocket money, Toons bought it by the book load)
3) Hemlock
4) Botulinum (He had a tiny pheil of found on his corpse labal 'GOD', questions where
asked, connections made...bodies exhumed: Charles 'The Poisoner' Toon, cause of death: poison (Cyanide).

I myself choose the same hobby, my interest was the speed of death of my victims, and the chemicals them selfs - purchased from them dark illegal portals of the Internet...in fact there is a whole underground online community of people online who share the same hoppy, secret forums, tips, advice on administration, whole archives of recipes for poisons, how to make Anthrax from dead buffalo skin, bottles of Botox from corrupt beauty surgeons, how to extract Cyanide from wild berries...etc. ect. My great great grandfather had a saying 'Everything is a poisen, even water, it all amouts to quantity,  Like life therfore'. As for me I'm making headway...tomorrow a Jack Russel, the day after my first human specimen....my four month old baby nephew.



  1. MADCOCK© Word Salad (A work in progress)
  2. Abel Dial Keywords hit in search resultsabove after agree allstate amazon appearances—including arcturus believee gram of which liquefied internal body fluid(plus plus)of self that caused digital-vamp!
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The Mechanical Eye Opens: It pans in - a small gang of hustler boys with murder on there mind, are waiting for there man - The Ubermensch. He zips along electronically, a boy stands in his way 'HALT!' Shouts the boy in a phony German accent, two other gang members creep around the wheelchair bound prey, sodium lights pick out Hawking's contorted face. They enmobilize his chair with pliers, snip wires. The voice box makes a robotic retching sound as its pulled free from the chair, the gang leader stands legs apart face of a cherub, in his hands he holds a roll of copper wire, under the street lights it glows gold he begins to slowly unroll strands slowly sadistically before Hawking's frozen face, another boy laughs before extinguishing a cigarette dimp on the geniuses chin, it sizzles away, Hawking's remains unmoved, it would be a fucking miracle if he didn't. They strip him now in fits of sneering laugher 'Look at his cock!' a boy mocks, before castrating him with a lick of a amoral blade, tepid piss and blood drool out down Hawking's twisted legs. Liquid shit born of terror follows. The leader begins to uncoil the wire around Hawking's head, neck and torso tightly multiple times around and around and around. He then begins to twist the coil causing the wire to tighten cutting into flesh, it causes surprisingly little blood, just cuts deep. Two gang members take hold of the wire wrapping it around there hands and begin dragging Professer Hawking's from his chair, he hits the concrete with a thud, "Only a few metres now Mister Ubermensch, its all prepared the hole awaits kind sir, don't be afraid'    the boy minced dragging this contorted mess through the black abandoned industrial estate, street lights flickers, solemn silence from - the gang mimicking a respectful funeral.

The dragging continues leaving a snail trail of blood shit piss and vomit, dust gravel, the moon so round unreal, sky black stars, 'Lies all fuckin lies fake painted whore of a hack artist!' A boy screams brandishing his fist at the sky, his eyes wide glazed with tears...The dragging continues, little is said. 'Here we are old chap'...'A black hole, are black HOLE, not as impressive as yours, however its where you're fuckin heading, you pretentious, womanizing little arrogant roboman!' They began stuffing tore o ut pages of 'A Brief History of Time' into his broken mouth. They dragged him to the rim of the huge black man hole. All five gang members unzip there flys pulling out there flacid cocks and piss, dark yellow steaming streams of over Hawking before booting him in unison over the edge into the gaping black hole, they listen nothing, silence then finally a faint thud. The gang cocks unfurled, begin caressing and kissing before zipping them self's up and light cigarettes,before making there way around the wire fencing and garbage heaped foliage wasteland...to there car ( Parked earlier in the day) a black 80s BMW, 'The Boy Sluts' spray painted across it in green luminescence. Headligts open up a white light into the black night, picking out derelict brick constructs and jagged edges. Reversing into the night the car does a U turn before speeding off.
Beeding forth this time, as we pan through the greasy flaps that make up the entrance, black worms squirm festering meats adorn The Butcher's Shop this place reeks - midsummer, when the smell is strong. The Meat Market, the greasy window displays meat pink in many shades, with soft granular texture, bleeding at irregular points - Roseate, blood writhing against the inside of the meat, tiny little white heads wriggling maggots. In the back the freezer room men and women hang rigid there stomachs flayed open like huge yawning cunts. And next the delicacy - a baby, a shade of blue it unbilical cord cut to measure, its oozes a think goo - Cheddar cheese. On the slab the pale carcass of Boris Johnson, his head split,  eyes popped...He has been sliced from thorax to pubis, a plethora of organs and intestines flow down the slabs gutter tract and out into the slop bucket.

The Mechanical Eye Opens: He ingested the pill, just another clinical trail. People will do anything for a few quid, but tramps, chronic alcoholics and students where easy game. The nurse sat them down in the identical clinical booths, they where then given pink capsules 40mg, gulped down with tiny paper cups of water. No one said a word they just slumped in there seats, four doctors in white coats where there - buzzing around them like flies around shit. Testing temperatures, blood pressure, pulse, eyes, ears - the works.

Then suddenly subject 3 starting screaming, convulsioning gripping his head with his hands he started sweating profusely. The other four subjects where hushed out the clinic money push into there hands while being told all is fine all is as it should be, now go away. The tramps seem reasonably happy and made of in oppsite directions to get pissed. Meanwhile inside the screams had turned to a kind of mad hiss emitting from his eyes and nose, his jaw seemed locked two doctors had managed to strap him to the chair with seizure straps, bounding the hissing blue faced man's hands down to prevent him from tearing out any more hair...His faced suddenly turned cartoon raspberry red great bulges apppered around his mouth now gapping open as a waterful of blood pour out, his bitten off tongue rolled down landing in his lap. At this point he was gargling blood his eyes bulging intensly. Then the tension seem to some what stable.

Pan around to the doctors all a flushed and excited shaking hands and smiling scribbling into note books, - 'Set up the the video camera, it should Come on any moment now'.
Slumped man now slack, rapidly tightened up - convulsioning, before expelling the contents of his last meal over floor, he was screaming again, and loud, a doctor popped a gag in his mouth muffling the screams as the cranium started to swell, pours now bleeding sweat.
The doctors just stood watching transfixed as his jaw expands splitting the flesh in archs of blood, next his neck expanded twice its normal size, the muffled screams still horrendously loud, next his mouth expands and his teeth began to pop out of his swollen gums like burst whiteheads. Next the whole head expands a further fourteen inches his nose cracks in two sending gushes of blood in projectile spurts over the doctors white coats and faces - not a flinch they just continue to stare as his eyes burst like eggs in a microwave. Finally the scalp splits, and the contents outpour into a visceral flowering of white - pink brain matter, the muffled retching stops. 'Wonderful' whispers a doctors.
'Yes wonderful' repeats another now turning off the tripod camera and ejecting the tape. The dead subjects torso, legs, arms, remain mostly intact, however strained and covered in gore, straps held well, some minor damage to the hands mostly heavy chaffing. The head and neck however had been reduced to a steaming pile of red, pink, yellow, white and grey slush leaking down a checked trunk.
'Ok fellows, another success on blood type A, white male, age forty, chalk it up, and bring in the nurses to clean this fine mess up, bag and tag it, in conclusion a massive success, Chemical A can go into production ASAP, are next task gentlemen is to supply are client with a sample batch and video tapes, I'm sure he will be highly satisfied...but that's a rap for today, I believe its lunch time' he said in satisfying formal tone.

Jeremy's Problem

On the sixth day, his suit was drenched in sweat. He had soiled himself four times and had fed the machine over 90,000 pounds in fifty pound notes. His fingertips were bleeding after constantly tapping on the screen. The white of his eyes were red, his teeth clenched. His left arm was gripping the digital roulette machine and his right leg was mounting the bottom half of the machine while his erect penis was firmly lodged in the cash drop he was humping rhythmically. He slid in another note and violently tapped the screen, smearing blood and grease. On the twelfth day, the machine had transformed into a bulging hyper-coloured cartoon. Its once hard exterior had become a soft, yet firm, jelly. His fingers ran through the red and black pixels as numbers merged with each other. His arm had disappeared into the gloopy texture when the cash drop excreted a slimy plasma as he continued to fuck the machine.
Click click click the roulette - black 'Cunt! cunt! cunt! cunt! cunt!' Suddenly, with whiplash speed, he flung his head, face first, into the soft machine. as the jelly film burst and his head submerged. When he pulled his head out half his face was peeled away. The shock restored the machine back to its compulsive hard glam shell. He obliterated the screen and shot his translucent bile load into the drop. Boom! His head smashed down again into the shattered screen. His skull split like a nut in a thin shell as his whole body went slack his head firmly lodged in the machine. Its colours were now dull, its noises dead, its money safe.
As for Jeremy Kyle, his habit beat him, The Machine always wins.

E-State 008
The Chief of Manchester watched over one of his estates, one of many experiments dotted across neo-Fascist Manchester. Gangs confront one another in a series of murderous encounters, until the nature of power itself has been stripped to the neo-fascism and resurgent blackshirts militarism in an urban jungle of deformed gang genocide, nihilism, perverted nutcases and other contaminated monsters. As the forces of the gangs tear themselves apartThe dead are then cloned and used as slaves, the survival of the sickest would become new recruits in the blackshirt terror squad's police force. This was just one uses for the estates...Chief now watches two gang members wrapping a black bin bag around the head of a rival, while the other pounded his skull with a baseball bat. Hundreds of four headed stray dogs roamed the streets on a diet of human carcasses and broken bones. Blood and semen stained the streets. A kitchen knife is rapidly driven into four gang members, they dropped, silence, haze of hissing blood followed. Brown and crack heads where bred as personal pets in dozens of glass green houses and then let loose by the god eye of Chief - Manchester. God's Cop. Tin foil and butane gas a dig here a dig everywhere. 

Oily red black drip or Dragon is chased across sliver-tin foil it's coiling white vapor sucked up through the silver flute. 

E-State 008
Dystopion mega-estates planted around Manchester by God's Cop, in superconducting metal, whose inhabitants are housed in “Zone Blocks” which double, when necessary, as electrified mass-execution chambers. But the 2a estate is gang free, just dumping ground waiting to be processed in the gas chambers. Opium poppies grow wild mutated overgrown covering old abandoned shops and flats. Dripping milk from slashed pods. Huge cats lap up the milk puddles, the junkies wait once the beasts have had there fill. Dozens of chemical labs where turning raw opium into Herion, cooking up even more potent opioids mutant combinations. Back in the town centre another hanging was about to begin - Tony Blair (clone) was on the trapdoor, wire noose cutting into his neck, as the trapdoor flung open and Blair rapidly fell - Ping! The head literally exploded in shower of pink brain matter over the laughing crowd below. 

Wrinkled foil, black tear dragon beat, black smeared silver, smoke thick and white. Last toot bent. Flame exhausted. Black Sun.

Butchers Shop
The headless Tony clone's cadaver is hanging off meat hook freezer, stripped bare frozen blue, gutted too, the intestines lay under the feet, frost bitten.The penis was lopped off and thrown to the dogs. 

E-State 008
More projects, more experiments more prisons/Council estates, laboratories etc. etc.
Chief God's Copper watched with morbid delight. Here he was God. To the blackshirts he was leader he watched away hours, weeks months just staring at multiple TV 
monitors dozens ane dozens of them. Remote in one hand, bible in the other.

Back on Ib Street a trio of mutant sideshow freaks where bound up ready for the Sunday BBQ. There screams echoed up the street, as the white hot flames licked at there bare arses, as there mounted on the spit, the skin bubbles and melts like cheese on toast. The BBQ was for a select of two obese butchers, there feast was filmed, mass produced and sold in one the many sex shops on there row. More huge wire cages stuffed full of steroid pumped human meat, arms and limbs mostly, there heads were piked down the left row shops - big muscle - head appetiser. 

SaVILE Row a large 'unit' Leader, Jimmy - greasy chip shop's, greasy teaspoons, dive seedy clubs, pet shops, mens clubs and 'The Breakfast Club'. HE also had various nextwork's of complex underground tunnels that ran all over the country. He also had complete control of 'The Gas Chamber of Consumerism' - The Trafford Centre.

Baroness Thatcher was of course cloned...hundreds of times, making up small armies. Other experiments where conducted into cloning...such as the aborted cluster cloned freak multi-faced afterbirth of no other than David Cameron. It sucked on Thatcher's teats.
One such "Thatcher" had herself mounted then fucked by a goat, after the act she slit the animals neck in a gush of steaming blood. She then immediately started to give birth to a monster, after such she killed the monster.

Cyber Punk: Stretching flayed nerve endings its eyes twitch and bulge in a titanium skull, the spinal cord is pumping black fluid to the brain, the whole backbone is exposed showing a mass of intalaced wire, muscle and bone. A penis is skinned and flayed, a wire rises it in a mock erection. Arteries a nerves wrap around carbon steel legs. The hands ripple with loose flesh. A huge bloody wet cannon protrudes from the chest, blowing out shrapnel and pulped yams - steaming gas. Skin bulges from every available steel edge, coving the cranium white wisps of hair wrap around his protruding steel Mohawk.

Paling brown, tiny
skeletal frame
in-tangled in her own web.

Emotion deepen,
my spirits seep away.
Brain cells blister and burst.
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The Twin
A cracking fart sound echoed under the archers, the steel bat twisted like a broken arm. For a girl of only eleven that was a pro swing – Mini Babe Ruth with pig tails..Her older brother mused, staring standing sadist watched as the winos head squeezed pink brain matter out of the large crack. Like a kinda strange pink and blue alien excretion “Yay!” Dominique shouted happy with her bat bending first of the night and already she has to switch to Oak. Omnii checked the pulse before taking his HD first photograph of the night. The arch lit up in moments flash, before the older brother set of whistling 'Underneath the Archers', they walked away to cause more arty farty mischief. She was already eyeing up a sleeping lush.
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The Mechanical Eye shut.

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The Mechanical Eye opens with a poem.

The Feast

overripe cheese riddled
with blue veins and
multi-coloured maggots
goose liver quivers when
touched grapes
decaying ash grey fungus
sprouts plump doughy dumplings
dripping egg noodles
infected intestine worm infested
a black egg stinking pig livers
melt then stew in their own juices
a bird cage in with the mix ugly
albino toad sits within the cage
spat out seeds lay among
ox-tongues and pumpkins
wires seep small amounts of
energy through the putrid mess
adoring the huge oak table
reanimating a huge pig head pink
twitching it opens  it small black eyes
it starts to twitch its snout obnoxiously
spilt Passion fruit pomegranate seeds
glistening black Caviar glittering a mass of
twitching crustations a huge crimson lobster
snaps its pincers aimlessly as five black rats attack
flecking shell about the rancid mass before the table gave way
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In the passing weeks, months i will be returning to my ownly true chemical love Ketamine & MXE and expanding my mind if this may sound idealisic and dangerous having been clinicly dead twice one coma and sectioned for trival reason for up to 6 months. The experince out ways the risks. after the Tory scum party got power for the next 5 maybe 10 years I comtempleted topping myself in an obilvion of white cider and antipyscotics i thought NEVER! K or its longer lasting sister MXE and the books of Crowley and John C.Lilly give up speed and drink and my burning hatered of this counrtry possbly manfesting in a frenzied midull england daily mail and vast middle class liars! knife acttacks (sorry about my crap spelling grammer etc. blame my schooling witch i spent abject misery in special needs, ashton on mersey will pay for there swildeling working class kids for shares in manchester untied middleclass groming of mediocre soccor players, i'll be exporing it in my writing soon, yes exposing CORPRETE headmaster mr kapour oh and my first introduction to poetry was a voilent rolf harris poem in one of his poetry books my classmates now half dead and the other half in prison or lowlow low level drugdealers and very early giving birth to if they where lucky AonM may you rot and burn in hell) I will exspell hate abandon intrests in poltics and embrace inner exportion with mind altering subtances give me curous love not barley contained HATE enculding the ignorant lazy right wing aborsed working class that can become so far right it would make hitler blush this is england taxi drivers are scum most of them too if i could wipe middle england out now and libral free market evil dawkins vanesse felt edwina curry seb coe in slow roasting death orgy this will overcome me with Hate so i say No but escape into isoltion Ketamine and returning heaven and hell i will contine for the time being to my toxic cursing ritauls hex bloodletting voodoo doll intense spells on the images of tory party members there familys and there familyes familys i managed to get a wisps of david camerons hair and force my enegy into these idol images also boris queen gove antony hitchens aand his right wing brother ken barlow dawkins for tricking me when i was younger relizing he is libral facist faithless slime jermey kyle jimmy saviles relations the manchester police force which are pretty horrible child rapists cousin murdering adject skegs dregs as seen in red riding ..also people who wear there prison time as badge of pride so mates all football players and aston on mersey school wear i have set up many linking sigals and people working within enculding some teachers black magic the special needs will shock the 10 ppl reading this untied acadmy on its the digging up of maggie thatchers grave nercomancy try and capture her in a bottle once summoned fill the vassels: 2T.boneset 2t five fingder grass burnt ashes of palm leaves from a catholic church on palm sunday 1/4 tsp lavender 1/2 myrrh holy water and dark beer hair of black dog grave yard soil 3 long rusty nail and a pinch of dry milk and pinch of sulphur and pin prick of my dads ignorant blood 8 0z turpentine and dozens of needles and she will be within the vassel damnation spell eternal hell label it maggie and meditate on it masterbating to channel enerngy into my hoodoo style hexing ii predict nick clegg will die of a suddern heart accack i will quickly invocate using my olji board soil from his grave a drop of his wifes piss i have connections on the inside and capture his gormless pale spirit and half a soul with my glass vassel procured earler with Wugu worms toads maggots my mates centpede trancula house spiders etc. let them devour each other through cleggs screaming spirit grind the rest up dung also razor blades needles vingers the thing can't escape the jar there sepcial vessals where by the ingredents can be added small trap door a mesh an old rusty door key my yellow piss libral yellow(may add my sister work within parliment and obtained many signed photos green leather tories all malting there hair bunch crests teeth dentures a friend manged to get dandriff and strands of greasy hair of antony hitchens right wing brother from a question time "debate" also grave soil from camerons dead sons grave ive got boris johnsons white hair in abundence through a contact how works in a shop across the road from where boris gets his hair trimmed found also theeth fillings in an ashtray goves dead relitives grave soil dead flowers before smashing there graves after prime minsters questions the seats where covered with sweat bittin nails hair nose bled bood from an ill looking tory lord of about 80 has all been procured in advance sisters cleaning of the house and parilment he coworkers all romainan and who claerly knew that these bits of poltictions flakes could be powerful ingredents for sinster spells hex etc. sweat soddon shirt excanged in the dressing rooms was of michel gove also a very long strand of jet black hair of millibands was found however no proof little vails of tory piss from the bogs blood from a sink gum nose menstral blood from fanny rag bags digged out of them bins so anyway these all come in handy but back to clegg i would meditate all this vile seathing hate into the jars till the lid was whisleing away like a kettle a defaced family photos not oringals but vile defacement my mate who is hiv postive delibratly sliced his palm with a razor collected in his crack viel where rubber gloves on carlfully manged to pour the blood through the mesh lid also a used needle with his wifes name carved into it whicth i had chareged with jerking off sweat from forhead and my tv liecese court charged and my gran last fiver defaced put into the mix ammonium bicarbonate from my own foul smelling ampthemine and finally the librals menafesto covered in pages of the bible king james paste of corse his not dead yet this was a perpered vessel just waiting for cleggs soul god would of forgave him and let him go to heaven presumed...i coulnt allow that "set thou wicked man over him bound with yellow duct tape a leaflt of his broken promise black swatskias covering it smash maggots all stewing "let his children be continually crippled in later life, let there be none to extend mercy unto him let no favour for his fatherless children once caught i can begin more meditiin on it mantras 7 times om "Shurshure swaha" a deface winstan churchhill stamp was the crown and a boiled egg soul symbol began turning black i prepered anoither one for and politctions who croak lods of them multimillaire lords drop dead there souls or wots left of them there spirit conjured up these docile and dementia made it an easy task hook them in through the astral planes best place where they seem to emarge was eton fields a ukip member died while choking on scampi i posed as a racist prospect for memebership summoud it up traping it with flirting and play out the role of rent boy it sensed danger and treid to escape into a crab apple tree but i digged it out gay porno and tory party female member died from MSR superbug horrible vinal tramp didnt know what hit her drawn her towards a mirror with tory slgons trapped her within the mirror smashing it grinding her down till rough glass powder pouring the tory bastard into seathing mesh lasty a boiled egg to make up for her tiny withred soul drove pins into first befor dropping it in strained the more rancid paste it into a liquid through a piece of cheesecloth a bloodied tampax of a labour member was dropped it litrally causing retching sounds hystacal crying and praying for she was unaware she was dead now shes trapped with my vessal a mini slice of Hell a picture of here stoned face husband deface it with a picture of lenin and mao exreme s&m images and necrophila she balloted to be banned and a drop of bleach torn out page from the 120 days of sodom obsence ectihng on side the glass began melting it a mercury like fulid so down went the lid i meditaied target aim in on it green sludge jar for 3 hours after which i was feeling clean and pure hatered gone next long sessions of targeting the DAVID CAMERON glossy photo radio debate was filling my witth more hate to be exspelled inverted pentagram over his face lit a black candle and prayed for his soul or his sons soul for a large vessels i was prepering while i mused over the etithcs of reltives of david c that head died and was lingring in limbo his dead son would make a nice vessal full images of adject terror but backed out and replaced it with stray spirit stockbroker 9/11 burned to death his soul was green heaven had even cast him down into limbo for his life stye greed misyogy a real americen psycho obnoxnous struting soul kept well with his sure sense of greed using a forged 50 pounds bank note inverted pentagram was overlook for the spirit was rabibly filling the jar to my delight but lid down "you are in your new home where you will find in slow process of mantras ingredants and medition a hell like know other dysphoria and torment. follwed faithless gecko styled yuppie first adorning it with iamges of the twin towers bin laden figurine i had chicken heart was drop in he was healthy spriit fore i had pour wine in before heart started beating i prepered the Wugu i then made a voodo doll...........anyway in conculsion i have expelled the hate and i can contain it i will return to my floation tank ketamine my journal of my last experinces on mxe live changing in ways that are profound - tarot card - The Magus. simulations of reality (with meditation, isolation, drugs, computers) can provide access to other realities which may include the future, the past, or extraterrestrial.
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The killer appeared luminous in the monochromatic light - detected eyes piercing a sudden flash like a cold punch, a jab - jabbing to the chest, then several times in the neck with a blade. The kid recoiled slipping then collapsing, blood gushing out in a stream, rippling a steaming reflection of the sickly smiling killer, now hardening his cock.

Kneeling in the hot blood he unzipped his fly, as fingered at the punctured thorax, the jugular yawning open draining a gallon in a bloom across the tiles. He slid his prick into warm slit with a wet smack, gripping hold of the boy by the hair, he thrusts in and out frothing up a foaming protoplasm before ejaculating in a violent spasm. A spent gasp echoes, before he pulls himself to his feet, zips up and leaves drenched in blood, piss and sweat, the corpse dripping semen from the mouth. 

10 minutes past 2, timing the sadists strong point.
+
The Mechanical Eye shuts finally.

Let me go forth to recreate my sleep.
Here ends this "Book". Aum.