Let the bodies hit the floor.

Fuck me and my mistakes. Fuck you. Fuck him. Fuck her. Fuck him especially. Fuck all of you. Fuck my belief that it might get better. Fuck my way of holding on. Fuck all of the people who don’t like me. Fuck that bitch. Fuck the one who fucks her. Fuck that city. Fuck that city, too. Fuck your friends. Fuck what we used to be. Fuck college. Fuck those songs. Fuck the past. Fuck the games. Fuck your lies. Fuck those fake people. Fuck your opinion. Fuck that nonsense. Fuck your morals. Fuck your attitude. Fuck your weaknesses. Fuck your promises. Fuck your admiration. Fuck love. Fuck hope. Fuck my ideas. Fuck my dream. Fuck your world. Fuck their society. Fuck that damn smile. Fuck those eyes. Fuck your face. Fuck those fancy clothes. Fuck his money. Fuck her skills. Fuck his talent. Fuck the so called blood. Fuck their pride. Fuck your name. Fuck this damn world.
Fuck off.

Type a message…

Lost in space.

The afternoon sun of a spring day is following her down the street. She walks in a calm pace enjoying the fact that she can wear her leather jacket and sunglasses again. Before she lights a cigarette while walking, she takes a deep breath to feel a light scent of rebirth in nature; only that the beautiful medieval city she lives in, doesn’t smell like that at all… it smells like Death. The smell of rotting bodies is invading her lungs now. Her face frowns as her skin trembles and for a moment her mind is taken far away, in heavier times. She tries to banish the morbid thoughts from her head, fixes her aviator sunglasses and takes a cigarette out of her pocket. She lights the Lucky Strike with her silver lighter and she continues to walk, but she is walking now as doesn’t want to disturb anything else…

She is now on her way back home. It is warm outside and she doesn’t feel comfortable with it. “I have to  wash the dishes, to clean my desk, to do laundry and write the presentation for tomorrow… Fuck!”, her thoughts are filled up with what she has to do when she gets to the dorms. These chores are not the only things running through her mind now… she has the feeling someone, something is following her. It is a creepy feeling that now surrounds her like an aura. She looks around and behind but nothing and no one is there since it isn’t such a populated shortcut in the old city.

The raven colored haired girl changes the song to blast in her earbuds with something that might be cheering her up. Surprisingly she chooses a song that she didn’t listen since the tenth grade. She remembers how she used to enjoy looking at people as they walked, she liked to observe them, to analyze them. She takes the shot to do it again as she is now on the main street and people are walking right by her. The girl sees indifferent faces, sad faces, preoccupied faces, worried faces, mad faces, insane faces, dreamy, absent but just like before only one or two faces smiling. the young woman wonders if the others can smell the macabre scent that persisted in the air; probably not. It becomes more and more annoying with every step as the gross smell now starts to sting her nostrils. She focuses on the lyrics of the song that probably is contributing to her hearing destruction and smiles at everything it reminds her of… She really is questioning everything these days.

The girl is now in the front of her dorm building and she chooses to stay only to flirt with the end of her days once again. As she lights another cigarette she takes a deep breath and is surprised by the warm smell replaced the ugly one. It smells like warm, leaves and wind. She can now shake now all the nasty thoughts out of her head; she takes the last drags and reviews once more her tasks and… “Shit… let’s get it over with.”


Letter to Dana.

‘You cold?’ you asked me at dusk.

‘No.’ I was actually freezing. I was numb from the cold and I didn’t tell you. You already had so much. You know how i don’t like to trouble the close. I needed some time to put myself in order. It took me a while and I am not done yet… In the meantime you became happy, you found it. I still don’t know what that means myself, but you found it. Of course I wouldn’t ruin that for you after everything that you passed on… I couldn’t ruin the now you with who I still am. I want to find that something on my own, not tag along. I have to admit. I am worse that I was; but at that very moment you were a slice of hope.

I have to admit… I love my Ego more than anything, but you somehow managed to change that for a bit. Only you and only for you. Thank you, love. I have a long way up. But I am a mixture now; who/what I am, who I found myself to be and who I want to be. In all this process you are there like a shadow guiding me. I don’t have the guts to tell you everything because I don’t have the balls to admit it myself.  These 7 shots apologize for everything your mind wondered wrong about what is going on. I know I have been a bitch but  its who I am since I learned how to walk and talk… I apologize for how you felt but not for who I am… that you know I’ll never do. There are so many things that you don’t know but I am not ready to tell you. I know you love me and that’s why I ask you to forgive me for my wickedness towards you; let’s face it you are one of the three people I love on this Earth (one’s already dead)…

I should have said this long ago and sooner… but I had not the words… Little red wine here helps me now… I have more to say but all alcohol in the world can’t push me to write it… so…

 Babe… beer me, feed me and (please) love me. You are the Devil’s Bleeding Crown.



I’ll never apologize for who I am, I’ll never fell sorry for who I’ve become and sure as Hell I’ll never be ashamed for how I behave. Nor now, not ever. Not when I look around me ans see this fucked up world with its people with their faux appearance.

I am going to breathe fire at anyone who tells me I shouldn’t be the way I am. I am living by my own code. I know what’s right and wrong; for me and by me. Many tell me I am uncommon and a lot more call me ‘psychopath’ (do you, people, know what what that even means?!). Some say I live in a world only for me and made from my own desires and others tell e I am too “on the ground” and live a little more.

I know I am wicked; I know what I do and only I know why I do things this way. For me there is no good or bad, regarding myself; it is about what I want to do and what I don’t want to. They call me a wayward for my beliefs, while some treasure the same gods as I. While my heart belongs to the north and my souls is of a Völva, my mind was forged in the depths of Hell for its rationality with a presence made from Osiris’ bones and Artemis’ eyes. I am the fusion of generations made by war and witchcraft.

If the Old Ways taught me anything in their most basic forms that is to be who I am and to embrace my “abominable” self.

May I drink with Loki tonight in my dreams and in the Great Hall later in the afterlife.


Still counting.

Do these moments even evolve somehow or I sit here waiting for another stump to crash? I can see the snake eating itself in the same tremendous cycle… Every day, every week, every month and so on and so forth. To keep dreaming, to be daring… what for?! But if you do it… how do you do it? When do you do it? Do you just say “Fuck it. This ain’t for me.” Oh, mate… I wish I could. Compromise… that costs. It costs a lot of money, even more than the cost of a fucked up mind. Don’t you ever say “this is it” but then back down because you have no idea what’s next?! And how do you take/make the next?!

Between beers, cigarettes, a party there, a book read here… what the hell is this? Life? Hahah… funny. Not. Most of us used to watch films or TV series and thinking “Mate, college rocks. I can’t wait.” That happening somewhere in the seventh grade and then in high school we couldn’t wait to get out of there. Now we realize that college is that place where you are broke, barely alive from all-nighters spent either studying something that won’t be a priority in a “career” or drinking our brains of, a group of friends just as fucked up as us, no prince charming or a needy princess… just lectures that don’t make any sense and exam after exam… well… Fuck!

This was just my mind bursting after 48 hours of not sleeping, reminding myself that I have this thing called blog and the urge to bug other people than my roommates.Don’t you sympathize?!

“Beer you later, Bastards!”

Ever Dream.

               ‘I look at her talking and… her face, her skin starts to crack. Before I knew it she shatters into million pieces. What was that… what was, is this? How… how do I go back? Where do I go back? My room and him… Who’s him? I start to remember what induced me into this lethargy. The blood. Our hands. I close my eyes and try to focus on my room. It feels like one of those dreams when you are falling but now, instead of skyscrapers, I am surrounded by flames. Flames that do not burn, but cut my skin. I hit the ground.’

The only thing I hear screaming in the back of my head is something that I say for years now… “Open your eyes. Close your heart.” I hear it louder and louder; I am afraid to open my eyes. I am afraid of where I may find myself. How long I stayed as a breathing cadaver?! What just happened? All the things I saw. All the things I remembered. All my life… all of the lives I lived. I feel my entire body numb. I feel the surface of my skin ice cold. My palm is pumping pain. My lungs are screaming for the forest scent. My mind is putting puzzle pieces where was void. My throat is burning. My stomach feels the puns of a dagger over and over again. I want to open my eyes but why can’t I let them open… I need strength to do that; a lot actually… Something soft caresses my frozen face. It feels like fur and it’s warm. The familiar smell of cigarettes is slowly making place in my nose. I have to do this. I have to open my eyes. “Oh, on Seven Hells!”.

I can see now the so familiar painted ceiling of my room.



She Wolf.

    So well known for her cruelty.

So loved for all her atrocities.

So blamed for all her doings.

So admired for her wars.

So hated for her laws.

So denied for her morals.

So feared for all her tortures.

So exiled for the good inside her.

So misunderstood for all her crimes.

So honored for the lives she took.

So sad for the lack of light in her soul.

So proud for the darkness inside her mind.

So enraged for the army she controlled.

So tired for the Crown upon her head.

So sinful for the roses in her gardens.

So tragic for the men in her chambers.

So innocent for the pages in her bedroom.

So terrifying for the souls at her gates.

So kind for the animals in her forests.

So little for the lover in her bed.

So much more for the lust in her.

So tormented for her Throne.

So black for her heart.

So red for the tears she screamed.

So gore for her victims.

So envied by the women who wished were her.

So cold for the Summer’s Day.

So outside for the times she lives in.

So focused on her duty.