3 days and why? it's a good fuckin kick!


Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed- interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit- crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?
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I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on, going straight and choosing life. I'm looking forward to it already. I'm going to be just like you: the job, the family, the fucking big television, the washing machine, the car, the compact disc and electrical tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisurewear, luggage, three-piece suite, DIY, game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, nine to five, good at golf, washing the car, choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing the gutters, getting by, looking ahead, to the day you die.

Es el augurio de las flores

Can you stand on your head?

Fiesta este sabado,a ver si el tato se gano la botella de vampire wine..si no, me va a mi...meh cualquiera comparte..

Realmente hay mucho que decir...pero creo que es mejor el silencio.

finally contented soul
now did you lacerate
me long enough

while all enticing secrets
were slowly whispering
´unearthly love´

the words I have the spells I know
were not enough to make you happy
to make you smile again

like roses your drugs in bloom
in psychic beauty
my frantic heart

I thought I saw you gloating over
my private inferno
you owe me answers

the words I have the spells I know
were not enough to make you happy
to make you smile again

the nights and days - in wasteful void
the glints of hope - as small defense
the smiles I faked - the blood I shed
my drifts of smoke - my 3 letter friends

the words I have the spells I know
were not enough to make you happy
to make you smile again

Soy libre

Otro video,esta vez de las Gorgonas,el de La Ciega, para hacerles un poquillo de promocion ;) La musica es muy buena,las letras no mucho..pero tienen talento los muchachos jaja.

Jaja! esto solo es prueba de que no solo es la musica,si no tambien sus integrantes los que hacen que algo sea"bubblegummer pop"

"I'm going to be a vampire, Daddy."
He could not find his voice. There were no spit in his mouth. "Put your clothes on, Jessy." It was a dry whisper, weak and useless.
"I'm going to bite people, Daddy. Im going to feed on them. I need blood. Hot...rich...red blood. I need your blood, Daddy. I'm hungry. Your Jessy's hungry. Come to me."
He did not know how he got to the bed. Surely if she had cajoled so, if she were not his daughter, his only joy, if he had not always tried to give her everything she asked for... surely if he had lain with some other woman in the ten years since Lydia was gone... surely then, if the ache in his groin had not come bursting forth, he would not have let her lay him out and undo his trousers and straddle him, slipping around him as smooth and tight as sea anemones. Surely he would not have groaned and squeezed her heavy soft breasts between his fingers and thrust up and up into his daughter's wet-velvet heaven until she bent over him and he felt a metallic sting as a razor blade beneath his jaw. Jessy fastened her lips there. He felt her throat working as she swallowed. Then a black crimson mist began to drift into the edges of his vision.
He woke up tangled in Jessy's rumpled sheets that smelled of girl-skin. There was a nick on his throat, no worse than a bad shaving cut, smeared with dry blood and spit. He did not wash it. Jessy was gone.

Ustedes me enferman.
...Las imagenes expresan mas que nada estos dias.

...And she ached for centuries for one slight touch,one slight warmth,one being vibrantly alive as her aching was...and just when it happened she lost it all,her mind,her body, her innocence,for she never thought that another such as herself could with only one touch steal her soul.
Hey,why would you even trust?