Twisted labs, doctors and scientists working to find a cure for this, or make disease for that. They do work for countless hours just to fill one purpose in the empty void that is our reality. They want to find a way out. As simple as that. Whether that means using a portal of sorts, an elixir, or straight-up suicide. They want to experience something new. Everyone does. And so, the brilliant scientists of the black market have formulated the art of drug making, and since then, it has been a strange beacon of hope for those who want to escape the dark reality we are faced with in our day-to-day lives. It isn't very good, but it sure is interesting. How does this chemical mixed with that one, create the pleasant experience we call, a "trip". Where do we go when we trip. Is our mind transported to an alternate dimension, criss-crossing fact and fiction. Is that what we are seeing? Or perhaps we are seeing the world through which we, in the deepest depths of our being, want it to look like. Even if don't think you do, the subconscious knows you do. So every trip is like a literal trip. A way for the brain to access a dream world beyond your wildest thoughts. Is that why we desperately find more ways to get high, more ways to die, more ways to escape reality as we know it, and discover a new world, in an alternate plane of existence. Well, I guess that would explain a lot, but let me leave you with this question. What if we're always high? What if what we normally see is unreal, and the things we see during a trip is pure reality, but we can't see it unless we get high. Would you try it then?

What would it be like to die, or to be dead. I feel as if it would be pretty depressing, an eternal void fills your gaze as your body falls infinitely through a never-ending darkness. What would you see? If there is no color when you die, no black, nor white, no red, green, or blue, what happens? Do you lose your perception of sight, as the soul tries to comprehend the un-comprehensible. No sight, what happens to the other senses. What do your hear? What do you smell? What or how do you feel? Do you still feel emotion, or is that devoid as well. How how how how how. How does one begin to describe a feeling such as death, because from our current understanding of life and the universe as a whole, it still seems to be a mystery to even the greatest of philosophers. No one can crack this code, but do we want to? What if the thing we see after we die is comparable to eldritch horrors like those written by H.P. Lovecraft, or worse than that! We find a horror so inconceivable, it makes us want to commit suicide, just to get it over with. It really is depressing to think about. And if that's the case, what if that's a good thing. The possibilities of what waits for us after we use up our mortal coil, encourages us to live better lives. What if the meaning of life, to enjoy your life the best way you can, is so you can feel better before you die, to be happy before you die, because after you meet the horror show of demons and devils that waits for you, your happy memories will be all you have left to remind you of your previous humanity, before it's stripped away from you, along with your sanity...

Wait, wait --

​

Waaaaait

​

I believe this calls for a Urienal

​

Because the pissed-off panicking people

​

and the terrifying sheeple

​

who mob the houzz with their empathy

​

and cry for poets to die

​

when they are alive

​

and no one is around to hear their sighs

​

of resignation

​

from the press and journalists who covered the real world of lies

​

and I think I'm becoming one of them.

Their conversation had been short yet confusing. It began with a quip about him being hungry, an excuse long known to Danielle to mean he wanted to go out somewhere and hang out with her. This was always known by her - the both of them - yet, still each time the message came, she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to seem too eager and respond right away telling him to pick her up so they can grab a bite together, yet she didn’t want to seem too distant and ignorant and prolong the conversation for too long. Because of this, she tended to respond with a simple “then eat something then”, a rude text back if it had been anyone else, but the two had learned each other’s little mannerisms and have developed a strange shared vocabulary in which that little sentence translated to “I want you to offer to come and pick me up”. In which he would, without fail, respond with his offer to swoop her up and grab some sushi together.

Despite the two living an approximate 7 minutes away from one another, it almost always took him over a half hour to reach her home, he would always have a silly excuse as to why it took him so long to get there, but they both knew in their own heads that it was because he - the both of them - spent the majority of that time primping and preening in the mirror, searching for that beautiful intersection of ‘cute’ and ‘not trying’.

On the increasingly-not-rare occasion that the boy would admit that he took so long because he had been showering or simply cleaning, Danielle knew that she was in for a confusing night.

He would pick her up, and the both of them being the awkward youths that they are, the conversation would begin simply and strangely. During the entire adventure, neither wishes to make note of the increasing sexual energy, one for fear of rejection - despite having ventured into the territory with this particular boy many times, and the other for reasons unknown.

Danielle almost always takes the ignoring of the elephant in the room to be a sign that the boy does not like her in the same ways that she does him, and allows that fear to keep her from allowing herself to initiate any sort of contact. This, unbeknownst to her - mostly - causes the boy anxiety of the same nature, ceasing his same attempts.

Eventually, between all of the talking and fears of the unknown, the thick fog of apprehension mixed with anticipation swallows the two whole and fills out every corner of the car. The boy finally, courage pulled from nowhere known, begins to cut through this fog by touching the girl’s hair.

The girl smiles. Her smile further cutting through the fog and the boy’s own apprehension. She admits “Finally, I was waiting for that,” to which the boy responds with a simple “hmm” as he dances his fingers through her silky hair with one hand and takes her hand with his other. Eventually, the two lean in for the kiss, the girl savoring the cool feel of his lips over hers, and him anticipating other motions.

The kiss lasts for a long while, and continues through their entire act. The boy makes continual stops to ask her if what he’s doing is okay, and her response always the same quieted “oh yes”.

Once they have finished their acts, the two kiss no longer and the fog returns to the car, replaced instead by a compounded confusion and lust. Separately they contemplate their situation. They are friends, they cannot be more; does the other wish to be? The finality felt by the two of them after each of these encounters is a confusing yet comforting one. Both are content with the idea of the last time really being “the last time”, yet are still confronted with the question of how the other would feel about escalating their already confusing and strange relationship. They both choose, in their infinite wisdom, to ignore this question, to skate around the idea solely in their head, and choose to instead resort to being “very close” friends. Until the next time, who knows if it’ll even happen again.

Thùng rác inox nắp lật mẫu thùng rác được nhâp khẩu trực tiếp và phân phối giá rẻ tại Công Ty TNHH Xuất Nhập Khẩu Thương Mại Vũ Lâm. Sản phẩm thùng rác inox nắp lật được khách hàng lựa chọn nhiều khi sử dụng tại các khu vực có nhiều rác thải, khu vực không cho hút thuốc bởi nắp bập bênh, ngăn mùi hiệu quả...

Xem thêm thùng rác inox có gạt tàn thuốc lá

Ngoài ra công ty còn cung cấp các mặt hàng thùng rác inox, thùng rác nhựa khác nhằm giúp cho khách hàng lựa chọn được sản phẩm phù hợp nhất với mục đích của mình. Các loại thùng rác inox nắp lật:

• Thùng rác tròn nắp lật A35-O trắng
• Thùng rác Inox tròn nắp lật A35-O đen
• Thùng rác inox phun sơn đen, nắp lật A35-F

Mọi thông tin chi tiết hãy tìm hiểu kỹ hơn tại: http://vulam.vn/

To think rationally is horror. The engine of the creative mind knows nothing of the realities in which we flounder. Such inconsistencies only serve to degrade those who refuse to listen, making for an intriguing interaction in the long run. Should we no longer be capable of serving, it may just become imperative that we make the sauce in an intangible style of conflict. Where have we gone wrong? Is there not a type of streamlined melancholy that we know of already? It is but another dull blade in the chest of drawers. Can he actually fathom such a thing? There is only one way to find out.

What do they know? They surely cannot be capable of making something like this happen. When the conglomerate gets word of the situation, all hell will break loose all at once. The infrastructure of our homes was never enough to satisfy the giants that are the trees in the jungle. What lackluster ambitions might such a thing require? Surely there cannot be another one like this. We may never know how gruesome their fantasies could be, but we do know that they know too much for their own good. Why they think of such things day by day is a mystery, but they will learn soon enough.

To think rationally is horror.

The Hanged Man|Part 1

On the cold morning an orphan boy watched the traitor whimpering for freedom roughly dragged past his refuge on the cold uneven cobblestone reflecting the stormy clouds back into the night. A splotchy trail of mud with hints of red lead to the quickly built wooden platform where the traitor now stood awaiting to be hanged. A crowd started to form to watch the entertainment and excitedly watched they did, for someone elses misfortune was much better to watch then their own

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5fcnef/wpwrite_a_story_where_each_chapterbookpart_is/

teach me how to write, I'm bad at this

Never made a blog before and never had anyone read my writing other than my S.O. Also first-time reddit poster, so I apologize if anything is out of etiquette here.

I know its pretty basic and the core content isn't there (yet), but I want opinions on the front page, what I can do to make it more aesthetically pleasing, and if the introduction catches your attention and makes you want to hear the tales soon to come. Have a bunch written, but idk if it will even take-off.

Here goes nothing, yet my heart is racing:

http://talesofatravellingsalesman.com/

Ugh. Woke up this morning at ten and didn't have class til one, so I hopped on reddit and looked through writing prompts hoping to practice my writing, but like every other time I've gone to that subreddit, I pussied out because I read a couple of stories that were so much better than anything I could've put down. It really sucks, because the topics that I have ideas for usually already have a story posted that utilizes the idea I had but is written a lot more in depth than I could've done spontaneously.

Anyways, after giving up writing, I just read the In Our Time book by Hemingway that I checked out at the library. His writing baffles me as I find his style so simple, so minimalistic, yet I still get drawn into his stories. My writing style, on the other hand, tends to be very maximalistic, which is probably why spontaneity isn't one of my strong suits. I wish I write a minimalist story while still being able to grip the reader like Hemingway could. Sure, I realize this entry that I'm writing now is pretty minimalist, but it's a fucking diary entry, not some swell, creative story.

One o'clock finally came around, and I grabbed my jacket and headed to my biology lab. I hate that lab, the TA is a total bitch and she marks my quiz answers completely wrong based on slight spelling errors. The words aren't necessarily hard to spell, but when you have two minutes to answer five questions in a pop quiz, "vascular cambium" or "diatomaceous earth" are answers that can easily be misspelled when written in haste. However, I think I did ok on the quiz today, the answers were copper, cyanide, and iron, no biggie. Now the lab assignment itself today was absolute horseshit for the weather. We were supposed to go out to the creek in 36 degree weather on a rainy, windy and wade knee deep to collect water samples. Why they didn't do this one earlier in the warmer months is what gets me. Anyways, I skipped out along with a quarter of the class after that announcement; I'd rather get a zero on the assignment than sacrifice my health to collect water samples for microscopic viewing.

After I got back, I just played fallout 4, practiced guitar, and reviewed some stories for my creative writing workshop. Now I've written this piece, hope y'all aren't too bored at this point.

As dawn broke, flickers of lights danced across the eye lids of Dan Shields just as he was entering his second REM of the night causing him to stir and awaken. For a moment, all seemed right with the world, that is apart from the dull throwing headache from his hangover. He sat up and saw the sun glinting through the window and smiled… then the smile melted into a look of pale concern as he started to remember last nights havoc. Havoc that led him to remember the dead body that was getting ripe in the trunk of his 86 dodge charger parked out front.

His eyes widened as the dreadful realization of his previous evenings actions quickly sunk in. He reached into the inside pocket of his corduroy jacket and desperately grasped for his camel cigarettes. As he slipped the cigarette between his dry cracked lips and flicked open his Zippo, he lit the end with a trembling hand and with an almost pained expression took a deep inhalation of smoke and breathed it out with a sigh and a shudder.

The phone rang and made him spin his head around like a barn owl, it rang again and called ID voice announced that his room mate Vincent was the caller. His heart now thumping like a jack hammer in his chest he reached for the phone almost reluctantly, as if his hand was being pulled by some invisible unwanted force.

“Hello?” he heard as he placed the receiver to his ear. For a moment all he could muster was a dry croak. "Hhh- Hh- Hi, is that you?”. “Of course its me shithed! - *he quipped.. who where you expecting, bozo the clown? listen, my business trip got cut short and I’m gonna need a ride home from the airport in about 45 minutes, you down for picking me up?” Panic set in as he reached down into his inner vaunt of excuses but the well was dry “Su-Sure, i can do that - i guess” “Great! listen I’m about 15 minutes from the jetport and by the time i land, make it through security and come out the terminal it would be cool if you could be there, its been a stressful week and i just need to chill” “OK, ill get ready and leave in 5”

As he put the phone down, he was by now almost in tears. Fighting through the nausea and pounding headache he desperately tried to come up with a plan for what he could do to ditch a dead body in the next 5-10 minutes. He took another long drag from his cig and dropped it into one of last nights half finished Sam Adams.

Do people want me to write more?

Look man, there's the game. Alright? But it's not just the game. There's the... the sub game, alright? The second level. Like the... the game per game, alright? You can play the game to win, but if you don't play the game per game, or the sub-game you know, its like... you're gonna lose, right? So we knew that. But man, I realized... I realized there's another... another game per game. The sub game of the sub game. It's like meta, alright? Like the third level of itself, alright? The game per game per game. We didn't play that per game, that was our problem, man. We only played game per game, per game... when we shoulda.... shoulda been playing.... game per game per game per game.

He dosnt laugh, smile or hardly budge.

And you aren't funny, or real but who am I to judge?

He must be depressed, he'll probably kill himself.

No not depressed.

Content.

I don't seek out happiness because I'm empowered with the knowledge others fear to seek out.

I'm content that one day I will wake up far from my world in a never ending abyss, a sea of nothing, a treacherous cavern of emptiness.

This is what our life leads too.

We can hide it, fight it or find a way to abide it.

But it's coming for us all and I choose to accept it, accept this taboo thought, this terrible thing, this this...

Death.

In spite of all his friends' objections, he still considered himself pro-life. He had no religious or moral grounds for it. His reasons were actually rooted in film. His favorites were coming of age films because he never really reached a point where he though he had "come of age." He was still hanging out in an adolescent limbo in his mid-twenties. The only difference is in the way in which he is ignored. It's not an active shunning anymore, but rather a passive forgetfulness. An unanswered text message or unreturned phone call feels just the same as being picked last in gym or having a classmate groan whenever you are assigned to work with them. in the movies people like him would meet someone. They would come from anywhere. they could be a pretty girl, or a flamboyant outcast. An avid church goer or a staunch atheist. A sliding senior or a naive freshman. No matter the circumstance one thing remained the same: a life was changed. The character's world would be opened to new experiences and people. These changes would lead to the character growing and becoming a more well rounded person. He would be happy.

He spent days, weeks, years waiting for this person to arrive. For a savior to snatch him out of this monotony and emptiness and put him on the path to adulthood. He has passed the typical age in which these movies take place, and there has been no monumental meeting. This makes him think that maybe something got between them. Maybe the person moved away unexpectedly or had to transfer schools. Maybe their mother wasn't ready for a child and decided to choose. It's selfish to think that way, he knows that. But the more people that exist the more chances there are for a savior.

How many of us got a nervous breakdown when you realized that the time has come? The time, when looking in the mirror realizes that without plastic surgery or anti-wrinkle creams you do not have a chance? I had such a day recently. I stand in front of the mirror without make-up, well because surely I could, and suddenly bum ...I saw them ... tiny but with the ability to increase. I was heartbroken, what to do now? Maybe if I won't laugh everything will be fine...they will sit there quietly, in secret and nobody can see them...Yeah, great idea. Unfortunately, it was impossible. When I was thinking about how I will look like with the full pride and superiority expression on my face, I simply burst out laughing. Seriously, somebody has to pay me to pretend the pompous lady. So the decision was taken, and I left on hunting. When I reached the destination I was full of enthusiasm, but I gave up after a minute. I like CHALLENGES, but that was sick! I almost begged for mercy. Therefore, when the 'shop fairy’ occurred next to me, I wanted to jump and laugh - though I was aware that this small monsters immediately do something strange with my face! After a quite short consultation, I made the purchase. Honestly, I wonder if the operation would not be cheaper, but what is done is done. I returned home in glory, I put this 'miracle product' on my face and I went to sleep. In the morning, I was so excited, I run to the mirror, of course, I tripped over a few times, but you know sacrifice. When I reached the destination I was expecting to see..well not sure what I was expecting to see but probably something stunning! Well, when I looked at my face there was no a miracle. 'Shop fairy’ probably forgot to mention that for the effects you need to wait. A well as she missed the fact that this lovable monsters will never really disappear from your face. Moral of this is: if you cannot afford do not freak out!

When I was young I lived in a small village. A sheete holle really. We didn't even have a shrine. A septon visited us now and then with a bag full of oranges. I canny remember his name no more, Mery... I kanny 'member. Smart man he was. Knew the holy book well, memorised the whole thing. Sweet 'nd juicy they were. Those oranges... Sour sometimes. He told us once about the war when he got drunk. He used to be someone from a shithole like this. Goes to war tells us how he'd be a squire and falls asleep. Didn't look to good saying it. Must've drunk too much. He left the next day, haven't heard the rest of the story.

So I think to myself if he could become a squire why not me? I was stupid like that when I was young. Off to war I go almost got slaughtered in my first battle. One of me friends dieds with his guts out. Other of te shitter. I cursed the septon and got away from there. Run back home.

I did not run far. They caught me close to my village. Wanted to hang me. But guess what bloody bastard was there? The same fookin septon with his bloody oranges. I curse him spat on him and he just gimmes me and orange. And laughs. I think to meself I'll kill this bastard before I die. The stranger may take me. But he tells me the rest of the story instead. His brothers and friends were slaughtered. He hardly 'ot away with his life, run away, like meself and became a spetton, unlike meself how you can see. And I laughed. I confessed to me sins and was getting ready to meet the Stranger. When the hanging was 'bout to happen the septon talks to the Sir. A godly man, good man doing his duty the knight was. Instead of the rope gets me a ride here. To the bloody Wall. I can't remember how long ago it was over a dozen years I've been freezing my bloody ass of here... I wish I could taste one of them oranges again... for the last time. Hope the septon is doin fine. A good man he was, a godly man, the seven may take care of him. May the maiden send him a blonde with blue eyes and with long legs...I can see it like on one of those damn crows letters. Eat up boy! The feastin won't last long with those damn kingsmen.

Hey guys and gals and other genders!

So I've just started a new sub today, Writers' Choice

The purpose of the sub is for writers (like you) to showcase other writers they enjoy, who maybe don't get the attention they deserve (or even those who do).

Any genre, any style - just whatever you think is great writing.

So I'd love it if you'd come on over, see what you can find to read, or spotlight someone who writes awesome stuff, or whatever.

There's only a couple of simple rules - very relaxed so far

I know we aren't very big yet, but I think this could be a great thing!

I picked up the book and read it. As musty as it looked, it was it perfect condition, no one was in the library so I took a peek, tearing open the plastic covers. It was a work of an unknown language, written in language similar to hieroglyphics. There were accompanying pictures though; one had depicted a man on what seemed like an altar and several others who had each driven a stake into each limb. It was gruesome, but I was morbidly curious and read on. Page after page, it was sacrificial altars, and each had a very specific but gruesome way of tearing up the sacrifice's body. At this point, my stomach felt very uneasy and my vision was swaying, but for some reason, I pushed my mind to read further. Suddenly, I was at the end of the book when something in English pops up, "If you wish to know more, talk to the librarian." I looked back and saw that the librarian and suddenly come back from the break and was now staring directly at me, as if I'd just revealed her deepest and darkest secret. I froze when she got up, and stopped breathing altogether when she'd started walking towards me. I put the book away and acted like I was reading the Lord of The Rings. "What were you reading?" She asked. "Lord of The Rings, it's my 3rd time re-reading it!" I replied, nervously. Her doubtful looks suppressed my sneezes and she continued, "I know you tore the book open, come with me." She signaled as she went towards the employee-only room. Dark and dusty was the room, she brought a torchlight and it instantly lit up the room. Bones and blood, everywhere. Ahead lie a staircase that lead further down, she signaled me to keep moving. When we reached the end of the staircase, I couldn't breathe. Hooded figures stood around a sacrificial altar as they drove stakes into an individual who screamed in pain and agony. It was just like in the book...

First the prompt was "You ask for a hamburger I give you a raccoon."

Looking over my shoulder to make sure no one is watching I step into the allyway, and walk up to a shady looking man. It wasn't my first time visiting him. I pull out a twenty and say under my breath. "One hamburger." The man twitches a little then reaches into his rediculous looking satchel, and pulls out a small bag filled with a white powder. I snatch the bag and drop the money into is hand. I stowe the small bag and quickly leave the ally without another word. I think I hear him shout to me. Something about a raccoon. Not that I care what that crazy fuck has to say.

Back at my apartment I sit down on my trash covered couch. Shove the pizza box's off the table. Hastily pour the powder onto it. My hands are shaking as I roll up a one dollar bill. It feels like forever since I dosed. I inhale all of the powder through the dollar bill. Then fall back onto the couch in relief. In just a few minutes I would feel better. I closed my eyes and waited.

Something is wrong. This isn't how I should feel. It had been over five minutes, and I hadn't felt that pleasing come up I was so accustomed to. I almost felt nauseous. A nervous tremor ran through my body. Had I taken to much? Was it a bad batch? Could it have been something else entirely? My mind racing with possibilities when suddenly my shaking hands stopped. At that moment I felt a warmth in the pit of my gut. It wasn't something I had felt before. I relaxed in an instant I was no longer worried. I don't know what is happening, but I don't care. Whatever happens happens.

I lay down and close my eyes again thinking about how I had gotten to this point. Skipping out on rent to buy coke. I would probably get evicted pretty soon. It seemed so silly that I would risk being homeless just so I could feel good for a few hours. Why. I asked myself. Why. The why wasn't just about the cocain it was about every poor decision I had made. Cheating on my ex. Cussing out my father. Punching my best friend. Why had I made myself so miserable. These thoughts flowed through my head as images. Magnificent ones.

Before I knew it more than 5 hours had passed and I fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke I knew from that day on my life would be different. I would never use coke again I would apologize to the ones who cared about me, and I would start a new life.

The following is something I wrote as my sister tried to talk one of her friends out of suicide on Christmas eve. She failed in her efforts. This is written in memory of a girl who lost her life on Christmas Eve 2014.

The girl sits in the corner of the hotel room and quietly sobs. 4 hours away a girl sits on her bed at home and wants to die. One holds a knife to her wrist, begging for forgiveness, the other holds a phone to her ear, begging the other to make it through Christmas. One feels the cold metal against her skin, the other feels the warmth of a comforting loved one. They are locked in a battle dominated by love and hate, a love for one another and a hate for oneself. They will never be safe from the hate each of them has for themselves but are both protected by the love they share for the other. They sit in a kingdom where the ruler is hate and love is the hero the princess is waiting for. They are connected by only a phone line and hundreds of miles of road, and yet they fight an everlasting fight that neither of them will win. They don’t understand that the only hero in this world is each other and they will never be able to save themselves, only one can save the other. They fight in a sparkling ballet of blades and kind words, of hate and love. They will only ever be caught in this performance while the other is still dancing but neither knows the other is wanting to end the show and have the standing ovation they deserve so they can run off and enjoy the beauty of the time they have left on this world. So they don't fight, they just sit and talk and beg and plead and gip onto the things closest to them in the hopes that it will get them through the night. They never get past the first hour of the battle. The I’m sorry. The last breath. The sound of a cut through flesh wet with new and old tears.

Silence. Nothing comes through the speaker and the show is over. She sits in the gloom of the night, the stars of Christmas eve twinkling over her head, knowing that she has lost the fight, she will never have the standing ovation she needs. She lets out a cry that wakes the city from its slumber and then falls to her knees and begs to whatever god she can find in this dark world to take care of the young girl with the old tears in her skin.

Silence. The scream. The tears.

White noise through the phone.

A deep voice. “I’ll try”.

I was a mod there for a really long time. The sub had been inactive for quite awhile, but a couple of people wanted to get it going again. Whatever I figured I would partake since it was a lot of fun the first time. Well this new mod was being an ass to another moderator in a comment tread. I ignored it thinking it best to not get mixed up in it. Then I make my first post and the new mod deletes it and tells me I can't do that because it's not realistic enough. Fuck him! I was pissed so I unmodded him and banned him from the sub. They got him back on there in a couple of hours, and now everyone hates me, but I don't really mind.

TLDR: If I can't be the evil queen I don't want to be a part of your little fantasy.

I was in the woods running from tree to tree. Smelling the leaves looking up at the sky. I crossed a path, but it had no meaning to me. A group of humans were walking near by I froze. Realizing they were no threat I continued with what I was doing. What was I doing? I nibbled on some moss. I came to a river. gazing across it I have a flash. A flash of a memory. A memory from a different life perhaps? In the flash I saw a wooden structure I believed was called a cabin. Was this important to me? As I wondered through the woods more flashes. I saw a bubbling pool of water. A human who looked quite familiar. what were these things swirling around my head. They were important I new. They must be, I had thought. Then a wave of clarity. I wasn't always a deer. I was at some point a human! I was a deer now though. Would I remain a deer forever. How had I become a deer? So many questions.

Then I remembered a metal contraption with which I had traveled to this place in. If I could only find that I may be able to become a human once again! I ran back to the river. Followed it up stream to a path. through the woods I went again until I saw a clearing. I was hysterical. Could it really be. Is it really here? Is there a possibility I am not a deer? I rushed to the clearing to see the metal beast sitting on a strangely flat ground. It was here! It did exist! What does that mean for me? It must mean I am not a deer. I must rest. I lay on the ground beside the beast to try to figure out what was really happening. With time I became human once again.

I was the best The teachers checked with me For the answers to their tests Kids came to me To teach them all the ologys

On the field I was the one who killed When I hit the track All they saw was my back I ran the school Compared to me others were fools Then came the move Now everything's changed it's groove

They treat me like a preme My ass hurts cause they knocked me from my high horse Even though I ace every course I'm the prince with no power aspiring to be king

I'll put these people beneath my feet Make them beg to kiss my very seat Only then will I have achieved my amazing feat. I'll take these doubters And turn them into the rungs of my ladders

All you who want to get in my way Get on your knees and start to pray And hope your god can take me away

But know that as soon as he fails From above my lyrics will hail Busting tracks and going off the rails And delivering lines like you got mail

One day I'll lead these men Looking like Mr. Washington I'll be at the front of the pack Leaving behind those who fall back Since it's the strong who survive Then I'll take my life and thrive I'll take what everyone's expectin' And dive into the deep end I'll drown their limits To make room for my own And when I rise I won't stop til I'm in the sky's All that I expect of me Will sprout up like a tree

The fruit it bares Will fall without any cares To crush all the doubt That's forming over what I'm about I am the best I will crush the rest The problems that arise will be no contest Do whatever it takes And you'll be one of the greats

Mother fucker I'm mad tre don't be sad! Everybody fuck off Dude don't be a jerk off! Mother fucker I'm mad Don't be mad get glad! Everybody fuck off Dude don't be a jerk off! Man why you gotta be crude and rude and wish me to die? Cuz I'm pissed off that's why!

Had a bad day on the job, Listenin' to my dumb ass slob of a managuh Bitch I can barely stand ya. Shut the fuck up for 2 seconds could ya? Calm down, here's some ganja. Bitch ever hear of karma. Studder more than Obama. Ya talkin bout you C.lint Upper cut you to the ceilin Leave you with no feelin Everybody else is reelin Smack you with a rod of steel n' You scream for ice cream, I scream Fuck Dairy Queen. An electrician coil, boil an starting steam. I beat you like a mean green degenerate, lunatic, unrealistic critic, bigot, leave you black white static, ditch the scene, start to careen, I'm climbing like jack with his magical beans, these radical things, so sad it seems. It's time to end you, bend you? Nah! It's make or brake, I'm seriously tired, just really really wanna get fired. Just shut the fuck up for gods sake!

Mother fucker I'm mad tre don't be sad! Everybody fuck off Dude don't be a jerk off! Mother fucker I'm mad Don't be mad get glad! Everybody fuck off Dude don't be a jerk off! Man why you gotta be crude and rude and wish me to die? Cuz I'm pissed off that's why!

Everybody just leave me the fuck alone, Quit blowin up my phone Wanna punt you like a garden gnome. Glass shatter, shirt tattered, nothing matters, nothing sadder then a pissed off white boy, Face to fist, Now that's some joy Like pokemon People throwing opinions Like ash I'm catching em all Like stubborn dog Not fetching the ball Confused and dazed up in this fog Confuse and taze you like a cop. All your self worth Imma rob Actin all wise like papa rob.

Bitch I'll be amasing I'll be the hardest opponent you've ever been facing You're little intellect makes you small My higher intellect helps me conquer all You're slow, just seems so sad Stick to what you're good at Here's some knee pads Start to blow As my homo-Erectus starts to grow Don't ever doubt me again Or I'll be smashing your face into the pavemen' If you try to crush my dreams I'll take you and rip apart the seams Bitch you don't decide my fate It's my own to create I'll mold it in the fire of my hate For all those who state That life's so straight As simple as 2+2=4 I'll take it and make it so much more My life will matter more than matter matters And in the end I'll be laughing like the mad hatter.

Numbers

There's 8 billion people and countless matter as the people get fatter and don't know what's supposed to matter.

They say why do this if not for the fame, dude it's not game, name a rapper who acts the same. I so this for the fun, Because I love it a ton Jump a cypher, battle and make you run, Lyrically shock you like stun gun Spherically these raps go round I beat you anywhere above under the sun I'm on top like a sesame bun But entertaining a crowd like a circus ring is like teachin Hellen Keller to sing. That's the thing. I'm doin this for me, My rhymes are key for when life gets to rickety. And if I make cuz I spit it, wrote it right, tighter an hotter than a bic lighter, blowing up like fire, not my desire, admire, treadin like a Michelin tire, Rollin to michigan to Florida back to sin again to win again, fat from binigans, then I guess I'll just get a sweet ass cardigan, you stink! Fart again, time to start again.

There's 8 billion people and countless matter as the people get fatter and don't know what's supposed to matter.

Now that I'm writing this shit down, I found out, Im givin it my all, never falter, halter, never kneel even for the alter, Make it or not, I'm spittin it hot, I'll go down in a blaze of glory, Whether it's gory, you bore me, your girls a whore she at the corner store-he at the core, me my rhymes are corny and poorly wrote up, time to nut up, never shut up, so sick you threw up, get ready because this white boys about to blow up!