Momentum.

Did it ever occur to you that we as humans might be born with ‘momentum allowance’, and life is simply the amount of momentum you where born with?
When the momentum runs out you die. The will is no longer there.
You see it most clearly in the elderly, they reach a point and realise they can self euthanize, with their minds alone. They can decide when they die. Only they didn’t decide they just ran out of momentum.
Mine is running out too. Everyone’s is.

I wish all minds stayed young.

P.S
I have been working on a new project. I’m excited at least; the top image is one of the new photos. It may take me some time. At which point I’ll have a new website.

I'm weird.

The world's end.

Hogarth says it a lot better than I can.

Ummm change, I need future change, I need to see less of the nostalgic people that bog me down in crap memories and see more of the new bright future.

When I get where I want to be each peak will wear a hat, and Streams will boil and splash down the hillside which will disintegrate the old ‘nostalgics’ along the way. Like hot acid on boiled skin they will corrode! Along with my memories.
The memories I never wanted in the first place.

The old red blood blue blood.

I’m a very red blooded female, I was told I would shine brighter if only I wasn’t malnourished, and with time maybe I will shine bright.

In the past I was aware of my being ugly but comfortable, I suppose I was a bit like drowning in that respect.

That ‘remembering’, led me to visit the 6 femme fatales.
They still have hard noses, tease men and are utterly spineless.
I used to call them friends.
Now I call them future-necro-victims.

I was part of a group, there was;
1 girl for each of my index fingers +
1 girl for each of my 2 horns +
1 girl for the 2 brain cells my red body could bear +
I was 1 when it counted
That equals 7.

They hadn’t faired well…I returned to each of them to survey their current situation.

One in particular was not ready to make her peace with God so she died with ‘too little to actually live for’ as her cause of death. And yeah I was sad but I was also tempted to correct her grave stone.

Two She-Devils I knew turned their devilry not on each other but less fortunate paying men.

And Three ‘half eaten gut nibblers’ (fat girls) I had half forgotten about carried on to the temple like half mad hawks in a castle mew. And now, finally, the crack of the whip and the sound of bones being gnawed is setting in on them, I suppose office work doesn’t suit everyone.

And I'm the seventh, I returned to myself hoof beats later to witness myself shaking off parts of my own body. Soon I’ll take out a knife and a hammer and began to pound away at what pain I suffered for little jerks.

With all femme fatales, pull away the skin-curtains and listen to the colour and noise of the life within, it helps to understand.
Force your brain to accept her proportions then you might not die in the very sleep she induces. She is the illness of your ego and you should bar her from your subconscious.

I can not wait to meet my two ‘photographic’ other halves. I’m sure she will be beautiful.