Alien Life

Alien Life

                                       

After days of thinking, I'm still unsure whether to close this blog down. But for now, I have an issue with the world.. which means I need to get it out there. I'm not writing this post to paint a pretty picture in your head, I just want you to let me in for a few minutes..

It's approaching 5 in the morning, I'm lying on my living room floor. Flicking through channels, and at this time nothing is on but teleshopping and the news. So as I flick through, channel after channel I see big bold letters with price tags trying to feed me into buying their fucking stupid useless items. Flickering images of war, riots, explosions. Men in suits speaking to reporters, speaking way too appropriately. So appropriate that the facts from their words no longer mean anything..
They're not becoming less important and speaking more simple for anyone.

So.
Seeing all these greedy humans trying to claim victory over eachother got me thinking. We're so focused on finding life outer space. But I dread the day aliens come to Earth. I think it'd cause such an uproar, the world would go into frenzy. I wish I could be on another planet, I really don't think any other sources of life can be worse than ours, we all live for self importance.

Fucking humans.

We ruin this world.

If outer space life landed here, everyone would be trying to claim it, kill it or lock it away.
Religion would be questioned.
The only humans they'd be in contact with are men in suits, trying to lock them away.
You know what's hilarious? Us humans are aliens ourselves, except the worst kind.

We're a world built on greed, a puppet to self importance.

"We come in peace".

I'm sure that cliche saying would never leave humanities mouth, grab what you can and slice these beings for science. Humanity would show the worst characteristics possible. Do you understand? Remove outer space life from the equation and see us for what we really are.

I hope by the time aliens find Planet Earth, it's too late. One day this world is going to be just a ball of ocean. Everything and everyone we ever seen or touched crumbled all to sea. Fish are the dominant. Because no matter what water will always rule the world, the creatures of the ocean have it all. They live forever, but they have no words. They have no speech. They're in the truest definition of freedom.. they don't know what evil greedy beings are trying to hook them from above. To sell them, eat them. We're a fucking joke, we even kill animals to eat. We kill them to sell. We KILL beautiful sources of LIFE for our own pleasure. You make me fucking sick world, my hatred for the people is strong. The ocean is another world to me, but we're just living in opposites. I can't wait to sacrifice my body to the ocean, it's all for you.

they'll swim through my bones and break a floodgate through the passage of my rib cage

lagoons widen as concrete and stone descends through water and forms homes for the oceans deepest creatures

I'd do anything to watch the world flood, and laugh at the puppets of self importance sink

struggling for help, but never helping

you sink at your own greed humanity

you can't scream underwater, you're at equal with the ocean

FINDING LOVE THROUGH A WORMHOLE

FINDING LOVE THROUGH A WORMHOLE

                                  

We all have strange thoughts, right? Well let me share this with you.
It's 02:21 in the morning, I'm outside. Walking.
I do this every night to keep me thinking, to challenge my brain. Just walking, stopping. Saving notes. I not long ago I approached a hill right at the end of the runway / airport I live by. It fascinates me watching these huge planes fly right over my head, then slowly rotating my body down the hill to watch it fly away into the distance. Until I can't see it anymore. I smile, laugh. They look like little toys in the sky, so small. Though I bet I'd say the same if I was up there..

Nights like this always sprout from the struggle of understanding myself. It's crazy to think my brain is the soul of my existence. My body is just there to test it. Tweak it into moving myself through life.
It made me think.
Everyone you see, you can't read because you're just looking at their bodies. Your judgment is from how they operate, how they inhale their cigarette. How a person grips onto a picture of someone they're mourning. The way a person's facial expression shows emotion. Crying, smiling. But when it's blank, what do you read?

Now, imagine this.

The myth is, everyone has a soul.
You can't find it anywhere, you can't have it cut out of your body. A soul is everything you are, and when you die it leaves you (or so they say). I've always imagined a soul to be a beam of colour and light. Like when you leak ink into clear water. Exactly like a wormhole in space.
So as I'm lying here, looking at the stars, on black canvas.
Imagine this.
How beautiful would it be if all walks of life were a representation of the stars and the wormholes they clash through. So you couldn't actually see a person anymore, it was just this beam of light. No words, nor bodies. Just beams of light all clashing into eachother finding out personalities through clashing. A never-ending black canvas of colour and light, they linger on and never settle until they find their soul mate. It's like taking out the eyes of humanity and using their personalities as perfume. All crossing paths with sense of smell. On this idealistic black canvas though, life is just beams of light. Leaving trails of their true colours behind them. Swirling through one another. They find themselves through finding someone else, then they can settle. Blending into a more dominant gleam of light. Purity at its truest definition.

It's such a pleasure to cross paths.

Clashing through so many paths of life, so much colour and light.

I see through them all, and they're all so bright.

But you're brighter than all of the others.

- Wake. I'm in the material world now. Planet Earth.
It's sad to think one day I will clash with this ideal soul, but the model and sculpture of their body is the main judgment of whether it's meant to be. I wish space was a representation of how all walks of life could seek their soul mates. The idea of everyone's head, the brain of people all opened up and morphed into this beam of light. Ready to cross paths, with no judgment. Except for their frame of mind.

It was a pleasure to cross your path, but back in the material world.. your genetics tell me otherwise.

We all search on.

Kurt, Is That You?

Kurt, Is That You?

                                   

Hello earthlings, I see you've come to judge me once again. Because this is what blogs are about right? Coming across as very pretentious and acting as if you're a creative genius and all your thoughts will someday mean something. Typical teenager. But no, this blog post will not be me shoving a bunch of slack poetry down your neck. Nor is it anything to do with Nirvana or Kurt Cobain, I am not a reviewer I do not post reviews on blogs. KEEP THAT IN MAGAZINES PLEASE.

This is a story about the first time I ever done Ketamine, too much of it too. So much that I thought I met Kurt Cobain. So much that I thought I died. So much that I thought I was walking through the afterlife.
I know what some of you are thinking 'Fucking hell here we go, teenager does some drugs lets write a fucking pathetic blog post about it'. Maybe true, but describing something that no one else will ever experience is interesting enough to write about. When you take psychedelics no one will ever have the same trip as you because everyone's imagination works in different ways. I don't hide the fact that I take drugs now and then because well, why put a mask on to fools who won't like you for being yourself?

Anyway, here we go. Here's my story. Get your reading goggles on.

The Jacky P House Party

It's that time around again, Jack Parker is hosting yet another house party and this time JAWS are playing. After the previous house party I decided I'm no longer going to take any buzz drugs. Because when you take buzz drugs, you're constantly reminding someone of 'how fucking sound' they are and then constantly being hassled for a key of your finest white magic. So here it is, I get in contact with a new dealer who for privacy purposes we're going to call Mr. Blue. So I text Mr. Blue asking for 5 grams of K as I was buying for me and a friend. So I'm going to meet him and we meet in a dark corner at a church in town (sorry big man) it was my first time buying stuff off the guy so I was shitting my pants, like dude my pants were on full nappy mode. Mr. Blue hands me 6 bags stating 'you seem like a decent bloke here you go mate have a treat'. So I'm on top of the world at this point. I've never took it before. I have no idea how much to take. It's the night before, I have a lot I'll test it out. So I done some, it was brilliant I just felt extremely drunk and unable to get my words across to people.. but it wasn't as interesting as the K Hole so fuck that. That's done with now, let's rush 24 hours later towards the end of the party.

Dumb Lock Up Afterparty

After a fun night crowdsurfing blown up palmtree's to JAWS, Chief Wiggum and pals decide to parade on our party and ruin our night. In standard police fashion they barge through ordering all 20 plus bodies hiding in the bedroom to leave immediately. I'm fucking sweating a pacific ocean from my balls right now. I have a tonne of Ket that I've hardly touched all night and the police are taking random names. The standard looking police man with his 'I am a police man, I'm bold. I have heavy boots. I have handcuffs. Listen to me.' type down talk. So we've all left and it's time for the boys from Dumb to help us party on until morning. We arrive and it's everything you'd want a lock up party to be and more. I'm in my comfort zone, this is it. it's time to start my trip. This night was the first night I'd properly hung out with my close friends Liam & Jack too. SO fuck knows what they were thinking when they seen how I was acting all night. Everyone looks odd on ket, yet there's a strange beauty in watching someone on ket dangle their body around and slowly slide down walls. Mumbling words, trying to tell you what they're seeing. But you have no fucking clue, it's all cryptic code and you can tell they're just having a great time. This was me, all night. I start digging through my bag with a few standard hits. The world is confusing, everything is reminding me of space. When I close my eyes I'm seeing patterns form into eachother, much like when you used to play music on Windows Media Player and there would be patterns that blended with how the music sounds. (Sorry if you still use that, iTunes guy represent). Time to take another hit.

Kurt, Is That You?

SO here I am, I'm sitting on my arse with knees touching and both my legs pointing in opposite directions. I'm fucked man. I'm trying to talk to Jack & Liam but it's just pure gobbledygook. I sit staring at these walls made of plywood, much more daydreaming.. I came out of my body and my mind whizzed through every room and I slowly started sinking back into my own body. Dumb started playing Nirvana in the next room, on K everything in other rooms seem to feel a lot louder than someone talking next to you. I felt crazy, all I could hear were extremely loud voices of just people talking but not understanding any words. The walls are fucking turning narrow, this wall of plywood suddenly becomes this never-ending hall of plywood. The really little details inside the wood all moulding into eachother. When I'm on ket I overthink death and weird theories about space too much, it freaks me out how insane I feel. I fall out of vision now. I go into a trance, looking left I see Kurt Cobain just talking. The music must have sprouted this out into my trip but to me.. He's fucking there, just talking shoveling his hands round in his pockets. I say out loud, 'Kurt is that you? Am I dead?'. Now imagine being at a party and seeing a kid on the floor talking to absolutely nothing, dribbling over himself and asking if he's dead. This was insane, I wanted to feel scared but the drugs were stopping me from feeling well, anything. I had no emotion. No troubles. I was just seeing all these images in my head. I got up and I was constantly grasping peoples arms tightly telling them "I just met Kurt Cobain". With the amount of laughter and "Yeah I met him too he's a cunt" remarks I got back I was annoyed. So annoyed because what I saw I thought was real. I stopped thinking I was on drugs and I thought everything I was seeing was natural. After being reminded multiple times I was high it clicked. I'm high.
Come on Dillon, stop doing this you're making a mess out of yourself. Find a mirror, talk it out.
No, don't do that just act normal.

The Afterlife

It was getting towards early hours of the morning and Dumb played a intimate little jam. Playing Dive 3 times, officially forever making their music 'K Hole' music. (Only I understand this, they don't sound like Ketamine. They're bloody brilliant.) Everyone is scrambling their brains with stupid limits of drinks and drugs in order to stop the care that daylight is hitting the windows. We all know the feeling, trying to party when the parties over. Sunlight constantly making you want to just burn up into ash like the vampires in Blade. You're fucking depressed and all you want is the comfort of your bed. Well, not when you still have a lot of Ketamine.
Here we go, all or nothing. It's worn off and I possibly can't be as bad as I am last time now I'm 'experienced'. (Drugs make you think dumb, don't try it) Further on to disguise identity my friend Mr. Orange takes a line. I tipped way too much out the bag and I'm too fucking lazy and pathetic to put it back in. "Dude you can have another one if you want? You wanted another one right?" Mr. Orange doesn't want any more ket. He's through, he done. So thanks Mr. Orange.
I do it because I'm a fucking dick.
This is it, this is what is described as 'Super Mario Mode'. This is the closest to insanity as you can get on K. Well from what I've heard.

I sit there and everything turns into a watercolour painting. The sky was pouring in through the window and all I could see is clouds inside the room.. all these patterns in the sky form an ocean at the tip of the clouds. It was like watching a video of the sky and ocean upside down but more blurry and Cerrrayzyyyy. I'm sat there just mindblown. Mr. Orange is holding a painting up in the air, he reverses and freezes. Everything he does goes back in time and repeats itself 10 seconds earlier. Everyone is just frozen in time, I can't move out this chair. Everything turns looks like a childrens pop out book. But everyone is moulding into eachother, moving further away from me. Then slowing sinking into eachother. I thought this was it. This is the afterlife, I'm dead and my friends are trying to revive me. All I can hear is "Dillon. Dillon!". Somehow I'm walking now, going down the stairs looking out at the construction site, I'm about 8 stories high and about 8 times higher than 3 hours ago. Everything outside looks never-ending. I've broken into the void man, I feel like the wind. I feel like earth has ended and this is the beauty of what's to come. I'm thinking about relatives and trying to think of things that I should be sad about just to FEEL emotion. I'm feeling nothing. Everything looks beautiful though, the world is unbelievable. I walk inside a Tesco with friends and it hits me, I'm not dead I'm okay. This security guard is giving me very very bad looks. I wander off and run round the corner (paranoid that I still had stuff on me) I have no idea if I sit down and took more but I am tripping the fuck out. Literally tripping too, like falling the fuck over everything. I'm dead, I know it.

I walk through the streets just slowly swaying into walls and phone-booths. My body feels like it weighs nothing, I feel like a skeleton. My body feels like it's floating and my hands are stupidly weak. I remember thinking that everyone I seen walking towards was dead too. Waiting for them to question me. Abit like prison when someone says "Ehh, so what you in for?". I was waiting for a "So, how'd you die then?". Or waiting to discuss how the world ended. I needed answers, so I just start nodding at everyone waiting for some sort of secret answer to everything. Finally, my phone rings. My friend Mr. Orange is calling me. I answer simply with a "Dude, how are you calling me I'm dead."
He replies: Dill, you're not dead. Where are you?
I reply "How do I have an iPhone when I'm dead? How are you ringing me?"
Mr. Orange sighs at my stupidity. I'm trying to read out the name of the pub I'm outside and no words can come out. I just can't talk anymore, words can't come out my mouth. Out of nowhere I'm found. I'm saved.
I look at my friends in relief.
"Thanks guys."
I really was grateful, who knows how long that could of went on for if I didn't get a wake up call. When you're in a trance it's hard to get out. You need something very sudden to happen. I was so happy.
I smile at the adventure I just experienced.
I smirk this really happy secretive smile and just said "I thought I died" really quietly.

Not For Human Consumption

This was life changing, I thought I really hit through to the other side.
Everything felt so real..
It never happened again, I'm fed up of trying though.
This winter I'd definitely recommend fabrics to keep you warm rather than using drugs as your warm blanket.
Your wallet forms holes, and you become a shit person socially. Sure I'll always venture into breaking the this humanities void again. The 'void' of everyday life is as hollow and dull as anything, sometimes you need to brighten your life up with the odd chemical love bag. But the worse thing about growing a drug habit isn't falling into one. It's affording one. If you can't afford to fry your brain at every social event then it'll fall away from a habit. Your mind puts you in a shit place feeding a habit.

I'm happy being broke right now, waiting to fall back into my void.
See you on the other side sistaz.
X

(But fuck that advice, do what you want and have fun doing it)
-

A Boy Burdened

A BOY BURDENED

This is in relation to my previous blogpost 'Brainwashed At Birth, Crucified At Death', so if you haven't read that then this will be hard to understand. Design and layout of picture hugely inspired by Dash Snow and the Lucifer Youth Foundation.

A baby boy is born with no concept of time or belief,
he is born into nothing and he leaves with nothing.

Humanity infects beliefs as books brainwash.

Humanity becomes his worst enemy.

Alone he is a being, he lives for the beauty of living.

After brainwash is complete he becomes a product.

Without the label of being a product he is like any other life form.

He is an animal.

Individually you are this baby.

You're born into the world and held in the hands of your female.

You escape.
Roam alone.

On your own you find your own perception of life and become a being.

Life becomes a burden.

Brooklyn Alice And The Ballad Of Bradley Cortez

Brooklyn Alice And The Ballad Of Bradley Cortez

They ride the highway, trailing sands by each mile

Alice lays her back against the car door, resting her feet on the shoulder of her lover

she burns away at her cigarette and exhales slowly

humming to the beat of the radio,

The Flying Lizards - Money plays an ironic tone, describing her bad traits of endless greed

"the best things in life are free, but you can give them to the birds and bees.."

- I want money..

she quietly sings with broken tones, as though her screams to her victims have suffered the consequence,

suddenly her mouth widens a smile

"Four civilians and 1 police officer shot dead today east of Phoenix as.."

A heavy sigh of relief blows from her nose

- For a second I thought they forgot about us

Bradley stays focused, keeping his eyes on the wind mirror of the car,

knowing that if any cops dare get in his way they'll suffer at the next few rounds of his revolver..

his sweaty hands still stained by the blood of the slavery public
dirt from his nails thicken from each ounce of sweat

his hands speak a thousand words
his scars speak a thousand more

Freedom lost all definition when laws and advertisements leaked into every concrete jungle of the world,

his ongoing speeches carry the conversation of these road trips

explaining how reality is just a concept of how a human slaves into earning a wealthy lifestyle, when realistically none of it matters when they're dead.

He just wants to end their misery sooner.

East of Phoenix was no intentional killing spree
it was just an ice cream stop turned massacre

Pulling into the petrol station Alice voices a demanding argument for cold fresh ice cream,
she struts each step as though there's a constant spotlight on her
showing no emotion, eyes hidden behind tinted black sunglasses..
she constantly presses her index finger to the centre of the framework, stopping them from lowering and exposing her identity..

She scans through each section of the cooler
a seedy old man leans an elbow to the cash machine
rubbing the sweat of his fingers to form thick black dead skin
varnished by the constant touch of dirty money..
he gazes down at her body,
a hand viciously hits the surface of the counter

- 20 Marlboro Reds, and some concentration please.. sir.
The old man shudders with fright as he's taken away from the perverse sexual desire of his daydream..
Alice takes what she needs and leaves the shop, her exit rings the bell from the top of the door
alarming the old man. Before he even gets the chance to shout at her, Bradley faces him point blank with his revolver..

This overwhelming feeling of power paces round his brain snapping him into deja vu
where from here it's all a blur, this out of body experience where he's looking at himself with the end of the gun pointing at his face
some sort of reflection in the mirror that delivers him the fear he portrays to his victims
crying inside for help, some sort of assistance

breathe

today is this old man's lucky day, or not..
an undercover cop is watching from outside the shop of the petrol station
he drops his petrol pump with shock, leaking all that's left over to rush down the slope of the floor to the shop door
a newly promoted man on the job, no partner present
dying for his shot at some action

gunshots are fired into frenzy
killing all in sight
but leaving one overweight man bleeding restlessly in a pool of his own blood
his life path limits and drops by the second, like a hole in a sandclock
the officer stands shaken at the face of his arrestee to be
ordering him to compromise and face the ground
Bradley laughs a foreign tone, as though no man has ever laughed like this before
this situation, this contagious evil laugh that you'd only witness at the dark imagination of your deepest nightmare

by the time confusion hits the officers face a bullet beats him to it
holing into the back of his head and through his skull
the officer drops to his knees and slowly falls to his back
the blood starts seeping through the lines of tiled floor to the front wheels of their car..
Alice,
another name falls victim to the hands of this brooklyn born widow
stinging away her venom into every family tree of the murdered
she blown his brain into oblivion showing no remorse
the families never forget, she forgets by the mile
her only devotion in life is herself and her partner

Her hands smoothly rub over the heated gun,
she laughs hysterically at the officer's pathetic fall
imitating his drop to death like a skeleton being dangled and dropped from standing point

She eyes the dying man and slowly steps her way over,
she talks to him about greed, about how she sees it everywhere
and how his overly large gut represented his physical greed
how greed is in everyone but his is more apparent because of his weight
her words speak soft forgiveness, but her face stays unforgiven
before ending his misery she kneels and lowers her sunglasses
her eyes are mismatched,
leaking a dark red colour from the centre hoop into the white of her left eye
eyes like this you never forget
this image is unforgettable,
he'll take this with him to the death
afterlife, reincarnation, heaven, hell or anything death brings
these eyes will haunt flashbacks for eternity
she blows him away
The Ballad Still Sings:

Bradley opens the lining of his fresh new packet of cigarettes and tears away the plastic coating.

His hands smear blood across the big bold text that reads 'Smoking kills'.
He laughs once again whilst slowly ripping around the front of the packet, placing it over the lifeless officer.

Sparking his cigarette his mind plays away at his sick jokes, flicking his cigarette into the running leak of petrol
fire spreads as the flames arise to the handle of the shop door,
burning away all evidence in its path

Flames create continuous clouds of ongoing smoke
the victims souls swirl and stir in the distance
infecting the essence of fresh air with tainted black clouds


Alice tongues a slow lick to the centre of her ice cream,
her lips follow the edges
she throws away the remains as she saviours what could be her last taste of satisfaction
the danger of getting wanted and living free pays serious consequences
knowing each taste, breath or smoke could be the very taste
its unpredictability feeds away at their excitement
two valiant lovers turn vultures
defecting themselves from the slavery of normality
into this bizarre mentality that they're living the true meaning of the word freedom

how long will this ballad sing their song?

Hypnos Blurs Brood

                                      

Concentration has lost all definition since my thoughts went to her,

sleep deprived by constant fictional memories reeling through my head.

I can only daydream of sleep.

Her face blurs into focus as my eyes coat cold by the wind,

I watch her shoes deepen through dirt as she climbs.

I follow until I touch the reaches of the hilltop, grasping her glittered hands with a firm grip. Steady I stand watching her descend through the fields, blossoming each patch of grass. Carefree with every the step.

She flows through my brain eating away my thoughts like an amphetamine. Addiction has never felt so pure, yet I'm not chasing substance.

The breeze of cold air swoops and tussles with her hair. I pretend I'm not observing by faking a sharp stare into an open distance of clouds. My eyes are deeply drawn to her every move. Slowly our hands are clenching grass, souring our palms red with an itch.

This is the deepest into tranquil bliss I'll ever feel. A moment like this makes my living heart decompose with deep desperation for it to stay this way. She sends my state of mind into deep euphoria where everything negative whispers away.

Hands still seeping through torn grass we link, she lays a hand over mine.

Glitter falls from flesh and coats into my palms, I stare.  

Her face sparkles an overwhelming beauty leaving a presence that will stay with me for eternity.

Out of focus, she goes.

Leaning back I sink away, falling out of vision and back into blur.

This memory circulates and spins into a whirlpool of confusion struggling to seek answers..

My leg twitches as my body jolts before hitting the ground.
Suddenly it hits me.

I've slept.

I can no longer daydream of sleep.

Rage beats away at my conscience as I try force myself back into a deep sleep. Chasing what could have been, greedily wanting this to stay eternal.

I hold myself up to the edge of the bed, focusing closer towards the sunlight through corner of my window. Two crows fly by. Circulating each other, weaving in and out as dawn fades. Leaving me feel shallow.

This infectious mind burns thoughts of normality and replaces it with she. She who puts a high tide in my head this dawn, as it washes away this ocean to the depth of its core.

Poppy leaks into it's empty space, for it to never wash away.

How I wish I could sleep forever, as hypnos. Out of reality, to dream of her.
Thoughts cascade into an open well, dilating by each reel.
Taking me away from hypnos, and into brood..
Dreaming blurs away.

LURID

LURID

This is a short piece of writing I done walking home after an intense acid trip. The leaves from the side of the road were glowing, the wind sounded more powerful than it ever was. Earth just made sense, thinking about the creation of everything was mind-blowing. I approached the outside of my house and looked at the clouds, they were morphing into eachother and flying away, just swirling into the distance. It was beautiful, I'd never felt so alive. I'd never felt so happy to be alive either.. looking at my door I turned away. I got the notes up on my phone and proceeded to write from a hilltop, watching the planes blend into the clouds, looking like they're falling. Freely.
So..

Something I wrote after 2 tabs of acid, sorry mom.

..

                                  

Lurid colours bleed,
bleeding vivid and bright

Circulation of colours collide
clouds keep clashing,
and I'm just watching

Sinking within me
blue sinks within me
so if I drown ocean blue,
just bleach me bright

Rain falls as the clouds break the sun
falling into autumn
the day breaks into autumn
sucking chemicals from my tongue

Lurid colours bleed
leaking luminescent
turning back to transparent


As lurid colours bleed..