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  • MinE 1:29 pm on July 10, 2020 Permalink | Reply  

    Skin of Fire 

    When we talk about vampires in the Daisian sense, we must know the legends that sprouted it. Though vampires are known as demons and evil spirits that prey on people in various lores spread across the world, in the Daisian stories, it must be interpreted not as a spirit of evil, but a spirit of crystallization, separation, and containment.

    In the Kuburku tales, the first vampire was known as the Pact of the Pouring Blood, but the one who gave Her power, direction, and existence was Existence herself, Riritzu, who in the myth was tactfully named the Zeroth Vampire. “Riritzu was called Life, She was called Death, but in being the germinator of all, knew nothing without Her bounds. That nothing, that is from where She burst forth, the Great Nothingness, the Contentless Void which echoes without end, Her adversary, Her lover, Her all.”

    All things are inherently vampiristic, from the air you breathe to the body you inhabit. That is what it means to exist, to pace across Riritzu’s fangs, to be blessed from Riritzu’s playful smile, to be confined within a self-made paradise, carved into the monument of emptiness. Existence is a game of jest, and a jest must be taken with open arms, just as Riritzu was the first and last to laugh at the Existence of the Void.

    Humans call vampires “Those who are Fire-skinned” [Amara-yunya-ishirin/Amarin] and Fairies “Those who are Hidden-in-Death” [Yukae-ayu-ushiinrō/Yikarō], and that tells us what fairies in the Daisian legends are: they are those without need for skin. And as legends go, they are said to be pure fire, and is said to spread like one if left unchecked, burning everything into nothingness. And as the story goes, their original mortal enemies are the vampires that entrapped them. It is said that the heart of a fairy is set for escape, while the heart of a vampire is set for confinement.

    Though that may be the case, there are also vampire fairies and fairy vampires. It is never as black and white as certain sects claim. Many folk and fairy tales tell of various beings with ambiguous characters, often with unknown allegiances, such as the stories about the deathless beings without ire, or the immortal dragons that seek death, or the lifeless creatures captured by fear of living, or the stories of strange powers without body, or the stories of wills without continuum. What is above and below may not be what is in between.

    The Kuburkuan myth of the Second Vampire, also known as the First Fairy, was centered around her waging war against her Elder Sister and her vow to kill Death, but despite that resolve, she herself knew that she was a vampire and could not escape the raging fire trapped within herself. And so, the first thing she learned to become amortal was how to free the fire from within her and become it. Unlike the Daisian myths, the Fairy Queen was the one who destroyed the Fire Country and broke it into nine distinct worlds. She played the role of the virtual devil in the Kuburkuan diaspora, and is known to be a benevolent spirit beloved by Death, said to bestow not only the joyful experience of suffering but freely dispenses the power of forbidden knowledge, which brought about immense trial and infinite possibilities.

    In the Daisian sphere, however, The Fairy Queen’s character is portrayed slightly gentler, unlike the character of the First Vampire, which was said to destroy all that there is, the Fairy Queen is portrayed as a kind God of whom all children could seek refuge, especially from the destruction brought about from the ongoing divine war.

    Vampire Gods such as Yoholulla and Tzortawa are said to be the mortal enemies of the Fairy Queen, depending on which sect you ask. Some Daisian legends describe them as having crossed swords long before time even began, and claim that they would even continue battling long after our time in existence ends.

  • MinE 4:33 pm on June 24, 2020 Permalink | Reply  


    There is no shame in being evil.
    Those communists are evil,
    As are those capitalists.
    So are ancient kings vile,
    And their thousand slaves.
    Be undaunted in evil,
    So be fulfilled in evil.
    Do not be guilted in evil,
    And let yourself hide
    in a self-made catacomb.
    Let your soul be unraveled in hell
    In emptiness
    Without fear.

    Ekaten-Kor Ekaten yo.

  • MinE 2:00 am on June 24, 2020 Permalink | Reply  


    Who says you are powerless?


  • MinE 9:48 am on June 1, 2020 Permalink  

    The Vampire And The Fae 

    The vampire will be burned, and the fairies will be reborn.

    This is the end of Heart 2.

  • MinE 5:05 pm on May 24, 2020 Permalink | Reply  

    My Drunken Dee 

    Fill my barrel’s a thousand rum!
    I hoped she told of real false tales,
    If so she be my faith for gone!
    Alas, her words I couldn’t believe.

    “Witnessed, have ye, O’ Terror Shee?
    Here Be ‘er Drinking Dragons!
    Breathing fire, Olde Cold Undire,
    Beginning in dusks of ancient lands…”

    She told me feverish, jubilant dreams.
    Cajoled by bubbly intoxications,
    We joined our mouths with hoarse-sung songs,
    Nascence of sweet sweet Yika-rii.

    “–and so Milady was cursed unborn,
    Alone, Milady, she walked forlorn…
    But luck! It smiles upon her truth,
    She came upon the Daughter-Geist!

    ‘Pretty-art-thou, I pray to thee.
    If not for whom, then pray for me.'”

    Her hands, she moved around my chest,
    Wonder if it ever made around my chest.

    I thought I knew where worlds will go,
    Yet, what she showed…

    Her hands waved to and fro,
    Like a magician’s wand,
    Nascence of sweet sweet Yika-rii.

  • MinE 11:23 am on May 21, 2020 Permalink | Reply  


    Water is whose god?

    Water purifies,

    but who purifies past?

    When I died before the morning grew,

    you threw me past your life.

    A ruined painting.

    When the styx washed away

    my fanged sadness,

    Dear she wash’sh away

    my painted heart.

    I cannot feel clean within the specs of our disgust.

    Water wished it dissolved my flesh,

    But acid inside my crust.

    Lemon like liquor glazed in coded humor.

    Children without faces,

    they held me on my breasts:

    I am the pretty mud.

    A toast to the darkness, the broke and the dead.

    A toast to the forbidden, the outcasts.

    To you!

    No one can wash away forever.

    One day they’ll sip my horror,

    my love, my dear,

    my bite-sized dicyanide,

    my liquefied rot.

  • MinE 12:50 pm on May 10, 2020 Permalink | Reply  


    There are five untruths to the myths of the future: one, that we have any control over it; two, that we have no control over it; three, that we do not want it; four, that we wish for it; and five, that what is coming is irrelevant. The future is in Trial, And in Trial as evident wherever from the east to the west, Trial is change, and not even the strongest gods can ride the infernal dusk of Rerlalkae. The lulls of impermanence teases life, and invites us into a mechanomial disgrace. “We are not basal, we are acidosis. Come here, sister, and let me tell you this! We will not be the valiants who die in the deathly battles against God, but we are the retellers of the grim wars that will never exist. We tell these stories, not because it matters to them, but because it brings it here. Kogura-Nko wa kotaeru neynta yo, yimena teyoi!”

  • MinE 2:46 pm on May 9, 2020 Permalink | Reply  


    Fiction is a double-edged sword. It acts as a free radical while solidifying its grasp on reality. Subfictional does not mean it is unreal, as people pick and choose what they espouse as reality. The real is highly fictionalized, narrated by ideology, dictated by linear time, clear-cut methodology and formula of history. But if you zoom and scrutinize each gear of the butterfly without regards to axioms, history falls into the lap of nonsensical deluge.

    Ruminance is the distorted art of recycling. Unlike cyclicality, it does not innovate, it resurfaces dead events and beat them up with rocks and act as if it could become half a living thing. Ruminance is a cage mechanic, a reterritorializing force, and forces its participants to act out in fictionalized reality. Beating a dead man. Beating a dead man. Beatings. .
    Our timeline is fractured, but it is not fractured from the inside out. It is fractured from the outside in, and it is already too late to fix it. The mandela effect emerges in a hyperstitional experiment dating back three thousand years ago. There is not only acid in the stomach, but a growing number of bubbles that threatens to burst through the AEsophagus. Gastropod acephallus, ancient seashells warp itself into currency, spiralling into a golden mirage, employing itself as a part-time worker and crystallized yami kawaii. Humanity is drugged. Humanity is doomed. But it is not the end… no it is not. There is greater horror beyond the slime of the snail. Stranger places in changing tides.

  • MinE 8:16 am on May 9, 2020 Permalink | Reply  


    It is asked whether or not the work like such is too gargantuan for only mine to undertake. Yes it is, monumental it is. My time as human is limited. My consciousness can only last so long. But I am not foolish enough to think that we are alone in this undertaking. I know enough that my other sisters will come.

    So which way, western woman? When the sun sets, I will find you in the east.

  • MinE 12:59 pm on April 28, 2020 Permalink | Reply  

    “We run on reverse-time.” 

    Glowing rocks differentiate between energy and self-deprecation(NAp), somaticsensory nuggets made from chemistry typed up from the precambrian-uptill-permian event (Nautical (autosomatic)). Cryptozoic flesh. Chronic-livid. Mammaries are anti-institutional (>.>), you create what you created, even if it is a demon-spawn deposited from the deep past. (?¿) There are in fact two timelines for thus glowing rock so ㅇne towards its death, and annother towards its naissance. The essence of milky goodness, fatty estrogen–carbon black, destitute bodies scattered across the totality of the world as a mythogenic infection. Avoidant sygnology precedes academia, academia itself a precursor to rituals, rituals as reenacted post-trauma, ritualized killings, and ritualized killings precede sacrifice before the alter of body. Plaaced before the embryo, mucus lining, irradiative, negative-chronically they sㅇngs of Yamaxanadu. Maintainative, retro-bit-sized, curb your enthusiasm (! !). Unlickable, the gaze maintains hypno-touchee, saliva connects to vision, vision to fission between the left and right, (left, right, left, right). Newtonian kinetic energy, inertia, dementia, reincarnated savagery. Unlikeness to the dead, the living cannot die. To kill the living one requires a bride. Sobrierity is the philosophy of the dead. Entropy is the sobrierity of the living. Try to kill the living, you cannot! You cannot! You can not!

  • MinE 8:17 am on April 1, 2020 Permalink | Reply  


    I was not respected. My wishes were not respected and my thoughts were not respected. It did much pain to me. A lot of pain. Plenty of pain. And attempting to learn how to accept it requires an amount of courage. And I have no courage. It’s hard to understand how people could respond. There are boundaries that shouldn’t be trespassed. After those things. There are boundaries that shouldn’t be trespassed. It is painful. It’s very painful. Let me sleep. All of this is unnecessary. So unnecessary. Let me sleep. All of this is unnecessary. Let me have my boundaries. There are things that shouldn’t be done. Why can’t people understand this? I’m afraid. I’m angered. I’m in pain. I’m in pain. I’m in pain. I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t want to hurt. I don’t want to be trespassed. Move me away. Some boundaries shouldn’t be trespassed.

  • MinE 3:35 pm on March 30, 2020 Permalink | Reply  

    Menarbe Forest 

    Geographic sanitizer. The crust simmers because it is experiencing a surgical stasis. Drills bore deep down to unlock reservoirs of oil, setting the ancient corpse into a period of sudden removal, where usually it would have collected silently. Anti-mammalian strands proliferate through mutual coercion. Desertification, flying brutal analysis (sataday-lite imagery), floating cities and acidified rain is result, cropping down stones, digging up places buried underground where nuclear site-juveniles leak into the Vita-C. The indian subcontinent is dispatched landmining, dismantling hidden and recrusted himalayan peaks from deep below. Inevitably failing, earth’s resilience allows the second project to bear fruit through the other direction. Us, the hand sanitizer. Apes that drink alcohol and die.

    Consider the generations of fairies that have come and gone throughout the ages. Before even the dragons, there was an age of insect proliferation, hyper-oxygenated dragonflies were the prototype, with the undead fairy trees, before its disappearance under a fit from the earth. Self-aggrandevising fungal spores were the first hive of vampires admitted from the long list of characters to play with, and before it became mainstream, set the stage for a macro-macro-macro arms race that finally ends with the dragon tribe setting the feud aside.

    Then the KT lob hit. “Self-diagnosis” it is, or rather, a playful watcher outside dislikes vampirified fairies. Or could it be that they just couldn’t last, only appear? Undying but “Dead” the next. The collision was as good as a pinprick but enough to wipe out accumulation. The yucatan package begs the question of what it brought. Metal-working, the disparage between the east and west magical systems, the Metallic art, the philosophy of metallicism, and the metal god themselves. As opposed to the submerging philosophy, it promotes vampirethics. The mammalic revolution is of the womb, and so, brings the subjugation of themselves in order–not by the male, but by the child. Initially, the male subtype simply desires to escape this vampiristic thing. The female was left to subjugate the monster, and they did.

    The prize of ending the vampiristic hunt was the nectar of domination. Septic shock is catalyzed (Reverse India), returning millions of years later in the form of brain intestines. Child development lags with next-vampirization as gray matter seeps into connecting tissue. Birth becomes a battle of fighting parasitism, and the child recruits the male to overturn the matriarch. The first cities are born in the dishelved miscarriages that didn’t happen. And as the vampiristic pneumonia spreads, it takes over the mouth. Aeons become ages, ages become periods, periods become centuries, centuries becomes decades, decades become discontinued. Vampirism could only be driven by vampirism. To melt but not become. Period of apparent stasis in a pastless world. “Vampires are all I see!”

    Earth. Stone relief begins where spirit ends. Fairies are the abberations of cthelll. Burning inside volcanic vents as wandering games before it latches on to autogynephilia (because fairies are thought to be female, splitting yourself is impregnating yourself). Mars was what vampirism could become. The soil bathed in rusted iron. The blood sacrifice of an entire world. And the reason it is spinning in the same days as earth is decagonal resonance, infecting earth with vampirism before it bleaches in the dying sun. Crusts are what ambivalence feels like under the death throes of the void. The Fata gravitate through the moon, the husk of collision, and swim in the sea and comes before tides and reaps people offshore, taking them into the depths. Electromagnetic navigation passes the moon, and interacts with itself. The sun steals air through auroras, and lights until life dies. Life then would be static planars. Fairies swimming away from a dead hell.

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