In the spider's web IVSebastian was standing in front of Ceil, his head bowed. His master's fingers were tapping on the desk in front of him."Sebastian, tell me again what you are." He whispered, his eyes dark. "I am here to serve your needs Master, whatever they may be." He said quietly, not looking up at Ceil."That's right." Ceil said darkly, and he moved, striding around the desk, and Sebastian's eyes widened a bit. His master, who was normally dressed so neatly, had boots on there were just
covered, coated in mud."You are my servant. My butler, my demon." Ceil hissed darkly, and he leaned back against the desk. "And you do EVERYTHING I say. No ex
Sex is...Sex is sacred,Sex is dirty.Sex is bodies driving against each other for pleasure,For reproduction, for love, for need.For desire and lust, and want and passion. Sex is something that every human wants to do,Needs to do, Sex is the driving force behind our minds,Pushing us forward and preserving us in time.Fucking and loving, caressing and holding. Tongues moving together and foldingBodies against bodies, and sex against sex. Sex is the want, sex is the need. To push together and forward, spilling the seed. Sex is beautiful, sex is rough. Sex is grinding and moaningSex is gentle and moving. Sex makes us cry, s
SpiritIt's more than a craving; it's more than a need.It's the spirit inside, waiting to be freed.It's the words on a page; it's the notes in a song.Paint on a brush, and waiting all day longFor the perfect lighting, the look that's just right,Whether it's first in the morning, or up all night.It's the beat of the artist, the things that we feel,And the tools that we use to make the ideas real.A laptop or pen, paper or pliersWhatever it is, it lights our fires,Makes us burn with pride, keeps imagination alive,So we can say 'we are the artists and we have arrived.'
GameThe wheels are spinning and the cogs they are turning,The game of deception is fast, and you're learning.The spies that move in the night they will see you,Women and children in the streets want to be you.The game, the circle, it moves on and on,And soon, my fair lord, your time will be gone.The clock in my pocket, ticking time without end,Soon will be nearer, my dearest old friend.For death does not wait, nor pause for any manNo matter how they beg or from where they began.This game that you play, will be over soon,As the hands on my clockwork point towards the noon.
A tell of epic braveryThis afternoon, while sitting in my bed, I saw my cat's a ponder, with something on a thread. "What ho is this?" I thought indeed, and got up off my ass, and ran to their need. Over to the problem, I flew like a flash! Only to have my cats knock something over, 'Crash!'A chill of terror ran through my bones, seeing it skitter across my floor, oh noes! The rubber band ball near my hand, I grabbed with a flash!and smash it I did, to that spider's eight legged ass."Ha!" Said I, "you'll scurry no more,You nasty, dirty, and most spidery whore." Alas, when I rose the weapon to see the corpse, Oh hell, it was still alive of