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I prefer the shadows these days. Brightness and "clarity" only blinds the flickle. This darkness becomes me. For I know what it feels like to be fire, to be the element. I was so tired of wearing that jaggedely twisted unclean smile. These traitorous painted lips smiled at any excuse, sometimes never refusing to stop. Only a Jester's sinister grin came close to being just as terrifying. My new and improved stormy demeanor came with a charming and intimidating scowl. Mornings were finally productive because i no longer found my reflection mocking me with it's constant unwilling, gentle leer. Finally, it was your turn to smile like the menace. My inner monster was thrilled in the shadows, no doubt already thinking up, cruel ways to make it happen.

He halted.. Snuffing the air, he turned tail and galloped off. Still, Without much delay, We gallantly dragged our efforts; shooting at the poor beast in hot pursuit I was unwilling in this sport. In my heart of hearts I hoped instead we might manage to tame him. This Mighty Majestic Beast of Burden was too rare to see Death. But once our chase had been executed the  noose in our hands drew tight, Ensnaring the monster in our trap as we had him. We had him cornered. The Beast was upon the ground-doomed. The animal was at all our mercy. I felt some repugnance at paining the animal-but those were the orders. This was a case of necessity-this was kill or be killed.

She sneaked a kiss before slipping away at his words, becoming lost in the crowd and completely out of sight. He was close behind and fueled by their passion. Bringing a heat of a thousand suns on the back of his shoulders.

Blazing eyes hot with slow fearful contrast fired together, coloring a vivid sonic boom. Blinding all with fired pistols quivering through many of the mighty dead. The light in my eyes was the only movement that could be seen. While a lone bro cry of "HAZAH!" was desirously pining over a share of the glory in this galvanic conquest. That was the signal-NOW WAS THE TIME! Victory was in sight drawing near and aggressively holding on tight. I assure you of this, we really are the prey, playing this cat and mouse game we were never supposed to win. This evil creature of trickery let us destroy him-so who is the real hero?

The story behind this poem is to never put your hapiness in someone elses hands. People will come and go in and out of your life but you will always be stuck with your own reflection for company.

ess air is fatal to those who breathe, you should have nothing to fear. The safest way of surviving Fatal Air is to steal a few handfuls of blazing air. Granting you access to: “Enter without Danger.” Physical contact sparked flames instantly. Heating up more than the temperature, while bundles of blazing grass were thrown in for a real heat wave. preparing the flame chest filled with signal rockets that we brought from the wreck blasted flying fiery serpents shots; gliding across the sky and shortly disappearing at a vast distance. Radiant meteors on a cloud of thunder lightened up by local magicians sparked and smoked like fire-breathing dragons. These experiments lighted the air-leaving all oxygen purified.

Stone Fox

Stone Fox

Stone Fox

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Curious Natures In a more weak world the most aggressive advantages don't always deal in what is referred to as "fair consequence." Being an empire built of sharks, snakes, wolves, and rats-the most basic of beasts- we really understand the most prehistoric philosophy: survival. Using it as the first building blocks and the cracked foundation for this society. Still, one must always reserve all judgements for the most lucrative habits that surprised all by opening up a vast spectrum of the most curious natures. Leaving any who wander vulnerable to grow into a legendary victim or a menace to the community. Often being left with a life of never being able to escape their never ending abnormal minds. It has been speculated as well as documented, that these street racing thoughts are more than fast to attach themselves to a mythical beast more commonly known as a "mortal"  who will lose all balance and footing as they unknowingly grasp both reality and fantasy with white knuckled fists. Stuck in this forced upon reverie of insane clarity that consumes both the mind and soul. Becoming vessels for the sins of others, as they are suddenly privy to the most awarding secrets and gilded griefs they could never begin to understand. Belonging to the most wildly havoc notorious murdering confidences. While the rest of us, close our eyes and frequently feign sleep. All the while refusing responsibility for each other, denying a hostile yet unmistakable sign that declares the biggest secret of all: THE TRUTH. Told in the most intimate, consuming, quivering, thundering, vibrations being smothered in a explosion that was meant for "We the People" as it projects a plethora of colours on a always changing horizon. 

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There was nothing remotely familiar, I could see no one and every one all at once. These people were lost, they were all dead. Salem grew dark-blushing from a freshly spent temptation.A seduction created from the ideas of rash men,that was then danced into destiny's details by the devil.It continued breeding shadow as every flame,owned by the light was savagely snuffed-out. Murder was now on a most elegant hunt.Each diminishing spark documented each kill,becoming  a growing list of victims.Meanwhile the thick lingering Blacknesskept a informal score as the shadow grew in strength. Secretly, far off in the distance, a melody of sweetly soft smothered shrieks signaled and started a symphony of serenely sobering sobs.Sobs that began shaping and shifting into unarticulated sighs and cries that never faltered.    But still, it was met with one lone menacing Nightmare. A over stayed it's welcome Terror.It circled any remaining flame of light like a bottom feeding vulture.Pushing it's poor neglected lies unto any and all close by ears. It could be heard loudly whispering to your hopes and dreams:"Fret not" it almost always began, "For though you have truly lost it all-your lives included-there is a promise to clothe you."There was no hiding the disdain from it's voice or face at the last two words.But as quickly as the emotion appeared, it was replacedwith a plastic sneer as it finished with, "All things look good, even better, dressed in our monograms."I found it's night terror or tall tale amusing, meeting this Nightmare face to face as my insistent smirk escaped my control, unnoticed by all including me.

"That also has a steep drop off the far side of Home Sweet Hell" said my soulless guide as he pointed in the direction of the nearby screams. I could see what resembled silhouettes or smeared shadows  of something being thrown or tossed off the side of the tallest tower in sight.  There were so many falling at once the blur of any kind of outline in this smokey medieval lighting was impossible and began to strain my eyes. "They're throwing bodies over the edge, a necessary task for the good of our home." he continued as he watched me watching the horrific scene of what now was confirmed as bodies. "They were rotting and now they will rot even faster engulfed in flames!" he exclaimed with a smirk. "It's quiet clever really, it serves two purposes as one form of torture while at the same time feeding the eternal damnation fires of hell. We recently have undergone new management so our productivity points have never been higher." He seemed to wear that smirk like a proud badge as he bragged about the last part. No doubt he was most likely the new management, possibly the one who would decide my fresh new hell. He gave a new meaning to the expression "milky white" and had a paleness that was almost purple.  Freakishly tall which wouldn't have been so bad if he wasn't as thin as a runway model-and that was putting it politely. He was dressed in a crimson velvet  suit like some dapper don vampire with the chilling accessory of sharp dead eyes. He exuded terror all around while stroking my anxiety in the most uncomfortable metaphorical rhythm. With his you-know "devil may care" attitude he attempted to smooth out a newly noticed wrinkle in his crimson red velvet sports jacket.  "Even in Hell, one must always look their Sundays best or in the flames you go!" he giggled laughing at his own joke. I neither laughed or even reacted, instead I ignored him and continued to watch the screaming falls.The worker bees or drones-or whatever you're supposed to mindless underlings from hell, were now headed for a v-shape among the only body that was not tossed from the tallest tower. Instead it was hanging off a wall like a common prized Picasso at the end of the biggest hall in Hell. Or so my tour guide informed me. The brutish beasts were poking, stabbing, biting, pulling, cutting, slapping, and slashing the hanging form. "Go then and take her down" My Dracula impersonator  whispered in my ear, making me jump at the stealthness it took him to invade my personal space. "Go on" he urged as he moved even more closer to me. "But-" he then said looking down the hallway "who is to say her sin is not greater than yours?" he asked while stroking his chin.  "In fact" he continued, "Save her and see how quickly you will be the one to replace her. "I found myself asking "is her sin greater than mine?" for she no longer even resembled a "she" and I couldn't hide my disgust this prisoner she's appearance.My five star tour guide squealed "Why heavens yes!" unable to contain it's laugher. "She makes your sin look like childsplay! he continued to cackle while saying "I wouldn't go bragging about your list of dirty deeds that got you here they are not that flattering. Or noteworthy really. You're lucky if you amount to anything other than flame feeder on Hell's roster." He then very seriously added, "but  if it was not for the Simple Sinners we would have no souls to keep most of our demons from going hungry. After all we only get fed once every hundred years when we are not topside."I noticed the dead bodies recently just fallen into flames were starting to return slowly to our intimate greeting party. Most were empty handed or even handless, while all were naked but almost identical in the scorched rotted appearance, no sex could be identified.  "They will be joining us for the rest of our tour" Vampire Lestat informed me following my gaze. He started walking down the hall and I followed as close behind as I could while maintaining a safe distance from both sets of company. Without looking at me, Red Velvet started saying, "most crazies dispose of bodies because that's what they consider normal. But here in Hell, we find keeping them is productive torture. You see staying in ones body after death is unnatural and therefor uncomfortable, almost painful.  So you can see why it is useful to keep souls in their meat suits. We also make them do physical labor like any good slave when the torture has become boring and is no stimulating. I was suddenly feeling woozy and felt confident I was just as pasty white as my velvet wearing guide.  I couldn't shake the disgusting smell of flesh, blood, sex, urine, and pizza from nose. In a meek whisper I muttered "I don't like this.." My words were greeted with a smug "Join the club Sweetheart, no one likes it here but that's the point isn't it? Welcome to your doomed end, your Home Sweet Hell. "Tears welled up in my eyes and before they could fall to my cheek my thin velvet guide slapped me with such a unbelievable force that I felt my skull vibrating. I was shocked at the guides brute strength for such a blow and considered the possibility maybe this was a vampire. I could feel my tears start to reform and was met with another blow. This time they came with a side order of screams that said, "NO POINT FOR TEARS NOW! YOU WEREN'T ACTING LIKE A LITTLE BITCH WHEN YOU SINNED TO GET HERE, SO YOU'RE NOT GOING TO ACT LIKE A LITTLE BITCH NOW THAT YOU ARE HERE."I had no time to protest, to react, to do anything and even if I had he was right. I knew what I was doing. My guide started pushing me while still yelling "IT'S TIME YOU EMBRACE THAT YOU ARE IN THE PITT AND THERE IS NO MERCY! NOW ON THE CHOPPING BLOCK WITH YOU!"He threw me in the closest room  that was completely pitch black as he yelled "FRESH MEAT" that served as our farewell. As he made his exit with his herd of bodies, his dead eyes were the last thing to see.

“The authors of Freakonomics ... could be accused of displaying ultracrepidarian tendencies themselves, after eschewing the strictly economic analyses of their earlier mega best-sellers to publish what is more or less a self-help tome.” Tim Walker; The Freak Show Goes On And On; The Independent (London, UK); May 23, 2014. See more usage examples of ultracrepidarian in Vocabulary.com’s