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Staring at those smoky eyes of yours
Waiting for forever as we lie on the floor
Turn the lights down low and shut the door
Just say the word and I'm yours forevermore

I think I'm in love, baby that's the gist
As I close my eyes and tighten my fist
I jack off to your profile pic

Zombie Nation

According to a quiz on an online social networking site, I have a 38% chance of surviving a zombie infection.

I'm the guy who'll take out a wave of zombies while locked in a room filled with explosives while the others escape. Who wants to wait to be eaten anyway once the world is overrun by zombies?

They could even have "zombie politics" where officials were replaced once they've effectively utterly rotted away to nothing. The one with the least rotted away brains (which they eat anyway) gets to sit in office. Or maybe even the one who's eaten the most brains, he or she does after all have the most amount of brains.

I don't see this evolution of man surviving as it does not have any self-preservation method other than either eating human brains or turning other people into zombies. What if the whole human race has been either eaten, or turned into zombies? They couldn't procreate, because there aren't any humans left to infect. Or eat, zombies don't harm animals otherwise they would be just people who rot really fast.

Well, at least John Lennon's dream would come true.

"Stab"

Let me feed on your insides
And dance on your entrails
Feast on your wicked garden
To break what once was frail

Bleed into the darkness that is me
Let me sip from the Holy Grail
Skip to beats of sixes and threes
My heart begins to wail

Let me have everything you desire
A passing wind to stroke the fire
Nothingness and being passed through a wire
And all the unborn children we shall sire

An ode to what switches on during a fight...

"Switch (Bad Intentions)"

Vicious
Like a disease you just can't cure
I'm on you like a virus
Destroying all the things you hold pure
I can take it out on your body or in your fucking head
One thing's for sure
I won't stop until I see you dead

A promise
One that I will keep from being broken
I will not stop
Until I see you down and defeated
So come up to me if you think you have the guts
Let's see how tough you say you are
No excuses, no ifs and no buts
When I'm through with you
You'll look like you were ran over by a car

Your punches mean shit
It'll take more than that to hurt me
That gun isn't even loaded
Make sure you cock it, make sure you fucking kill me
Or I'll be back with a full-scale attack
You won't even see me coming...

The Great Haze part 5

The next day, I awoke with the usual string of messages on my mobile phone. Different people who want different things, each message is a plea for attention. Never relenting with this soulless barrage of incessant necessities, each message is an urge for something; from credit card offers to queries on my current state of consciousness. They wake me from my haze of nightmares, wicked dreams filled with blood lust and shrill screams. Over and over, they play like taped messages blaring inside my skull. Each night they resonate and desensitize me, and as each dusk turns to dawn I find myself slowly enjoying them yet still waking up drenched in cold sweat. Exhilarating and mind-numbingly disturbing at the same time.

Sometimes I find myself preferring the deep embrace of sleep to what I have dubbed as "The Land of The Living," otherwise known as "daylight." It would be so much sweeter to stay in dreamland, to be free to lose myself in the twisted desires my mind plays out for me each night. I finally get out of bed and proceed to go with my daily workout, which keeps me "vibrant" throughout the day. I took a shower, proceeded with breakfast and went about my daily routine. I finally drive off in my car and strap myself in with the little people.

At lunch, I sat across a "colleague" of mine. He insists on telling me about his wild weekend, his yammering a bundle idiotic expressions intertwined with stories of his lewdness. I imagine taking his head and repeatedly banging his head on the table until his blood fills his tray, and time my smile to simulate that I'm proud of this weak, pathetic fool. Lunch ends with the two of us laughing together, as the moron smiles and agrees as I berate his person. I didn't know they allowed such clueless idiots in these parts of the building.

After work, I smile and bid these people farewell and proceed to meet some friends at this prestigious club we've been recently attending. We meet up and compare ourselves to each other and proceed to laugh at all the freaks around us. Mauro introduces us to his new girlfriend, a challenging score who obviously keeps him around for his massive quantities of coke on hand. Security knows better than to bother us with petty laws and regulations, as they know that each of us can buy the very club that houses us with but a handshake.

end of part 5

"Orifice"

Humanity reeks of poison
Syringed throughout its veins
From trips to places bigger than its head
All the way to the land of the dead

It is haunted by shells of conscience
A reverse effect it keeps in mind
Of crafted shells and greener pastures
To know what sells and sharpened dentures

Keeps it to replenish it's well
Of power tools and magic spells
Sustained disorder and organized chaos
Right up to its very thoughts

The Great Haze part 4

"It was getting stale. You know how when cigarettes sit for days on end and their taste changes? It kind of gets like you're smoking dried, rolled up feces." I was running out of excuses. Everybody was telling me that dropping Jeanie was the dumbest thing I had done. Friends were saying that what we had was a good thing, and they kept bugging me for reasons as to why I let Jeanie go. To be honest, I was getting kind of sick of repeating myself. I wanted to write a note explaining why I broke up with Jeanie, then tape it to my forehead so that these buggers would stop it already with the same old questions, day in and day out. If only I had a real answer to give. I think they knew I was bullshitting my way out of further questions by giving these lame analogies.

Jeanie was a model for Cal Carrie's when I met her. She had a penchant for proving to other people that she wasn't just another pretty face. She immersed herself in the arts and had chanced upon a party where I was spinning. I was surprised she knew the songs I sampled in my mixes and even more surprised when she actually sat down to listen to one of my drawn out litanies on philosophy, life, and existence. Once she actually nodded and agreed when I said I believed aliens existed, I knew she was a fake. But, she was hot and I was drunk and horny, so I took her home anyway. Oh, and the sex was good too.

From then, life began to become somewhat interesting again. We would go to parties, gigs and art shows. We were seen as a power couple, and we acted the part too. "Oh, you guys are such a cute couple." "Lots of girls/guys must cry their eyes out whenever they see the two of you together." "Your kids are going to be so cute." And all those other overused phrases people liked to use. Kids. They even mentioned us having kids.

But, as with other women, she lacked that certain something which eventually drew me away from taking things too seriously. Now that i think of it, I don't think I even took her seriously at all. I didn't let anyone know except Stacy, of course. Everyone thought that I was finally settling down, that little old me had finally been grounded. I could fool everyone but what really frustrated me was that I couldn't fool myself.

end of part 4