Lihis Muna Ng Saglit

Literary Hate Mail,
While wanting to play a Blues of Clapton


It is like a dream now, ethereality that floats way off from my point in the x and y grid of a cartesian plane - bits and pieces of images of excessively (thus unhealthy) fantasies that stirred deep into my mind when houses would not withhold the burning of this very thoughts.

But it is also like a dream that makes me bounce to the drums of awakening when i think of Reality as a blast and as music that's more tormenting than the thoughts that lingered only in those sadistic dreams that at times employed tentacle torture.

Mr. Pogi - Narcissus 2000 - 100% Perfect Boy - Papa-ble Papa is going down - down, down, down to the dark deeps with octopuses waiting to pierce him, and make him feel the pressure sliding inside him.

Then after the octopus comes the electric eels to do their stuff, Marcos style. Ahahaha, then as he reaches the bottom and hits seabed, he still falls over, to the deepest trench, the cold getting into him as his was already ripped open by the recently tentacle rape.

I've always thought of the Disgaea, jigoku, netherworld, hell, inferno as somewhere cold, so welcome to Niflheim... or, rather, the horned creatures of Niflheim, you shall welcome as you are once again pierced by the sensation of being Napolion in Waterloo. Now, be their he-whore.

'Pogi... er, that's my mom's dog's name, but it works for both of us, no?' Well, now that you've un-skinned, hits three strikes, i'd like to tell you something... 'Dude, you look more like a dog than your mama's dog.' Well, go ahead and cry and hide under your blanky.

Once in a while, I really want to go outside of the standards and just make Literary Hate Mails. This is a post long due I think. Anyway, it's out now.

Face the might of Conspiracy!!!