Every idle moment

Every idle moment of her living hours rise the waves
without thinking any less of her, than any other human
Only she cannot resist the waves, rushing. She is
a feather, or a tablecloth of cotton. Be it a wave of musty water,
of a horrendously powerful gust of wind, she is taken easily
into depths or highs. Lungs full of water. In walks light,
in the same way, without thinking any less of her, than the
other standing beside her. Only she cannot resist, keep the
door closed. She is a open book, where waves write with
alphabet of seaweeds, winds with clouds and rain.
Lightning rips whole pages apart, without thinking any
less of her, than the other walking beside her.

Every idle moment, not thinking any less of herself,
she cannot resist.

Kenessä on hyvä onnesi?

Write one word about giving a fuck so I know who gives a fuck and copy this post so you'll know if I'll give a fuck. 

Such fun!

Roses ar red 

Sky is blu 

My gramar is bat

So is yu. 

Usko siihen...

En voi siis uskoa tätä... Uskoni ihmisyyteen on kadonnut. En mitenkään voi enää kuvitella uskovani mitään hyvää kenestäkään. Ihmiset vaan ovat niin hirveitä...

Voi hitsi! Enpä olisi uskonut! Palautit uskoni ihmisyyteen! Belief in humanity restored! Kyllä tämä tästä, ehkä elämässä on sittenkin hyvää. Ja jaksan hymyillä.

Luin tänään uutisia lehdestä. Sinne meni usko ihmisyyteen. Vaan katos hei, näin tänään kaupungilla kun eräs tuntematon keräsi koirani kakat. Nyt se tuli takaisin.

Sinne meni taas.

Ja sieltä se tulee!

Ja sinne menee.

Under the waves

In the depths

We have no name 

We float

We sink

We sway

With absolutely no morale

We eat 

To feed ourselves, devour 

But to you 

We are defenseless

We try to burrow

But the water is poisonous now.

We perish.

Chapter seven
Maelstrom

She tended the wound. Mal breathed heavily, as she concentrated.
"There is still some of it left." she said. Sire laid still on his stomach.
"What of?" he asked.
"Hatred." Mal replied.
"Yes..."
Fire burned in the back of Sire head. Gid had hit him hard. The wound throbbed. He felt like fainting, he was on an edge. Gloom surrounded him. Mal loomed in that gray gloom.
"No..." he thought, or said.
"Sick" Gid blamed him.
"Lie still..." Mal told Sire.

He went down in a pit of black. He tried to count, from one to five, but only got to two.
"Three" he continued. Napkin was there, nudged his shoulder. Night with no stars.
"Four" They walked on the grass. The fox gave him a stare, jogging along.
"Five" he stared back.
They came to a maeltstrom. Time-space whirled slowly in it. There, inside Sire could see stars. He remembered a feeling, fleeting past him. A star formed inside the whirl, near the edge. There was something unusual about it. There was something around it. Napkin stared at it, too. It took a step, reached to the whirl, and let itself float inside. Sire heard someone count. He felt and heard air rushing around him.
"Two" it was someone familiar.
"One" he had been there before.

He floated through a corridor. He felt so sick, and still had braces in his hands. Two men led him. They wore the deep blue uniform of the police.