The Unnatural Nature of Men and Women

Hello, I do hope things are well with you. they are for me. Look, I am just filling in time until I divorce the email address this blog runs off from a few more sites it's attached to before I delete it. I don't want this silly piece of vacuous crap floating around in cyber space cuz I deleted it's email address without deleting the blog, you see?

Today's subject is porn, more precisely, the differences that I see (and therefore they are factual and real) between hetero and gay porn.

Aside from the bloody obvious differences like there are no cunts in gay porn or cocks in male asses in hetero porn, (I didn't have to point that out did i?!) there is a whole undercurrent of "Stimmung" (kinda mood) that underpins these two peons of visual entertainment.

Hetero porn is nasty. It just is. No matter how much porn meisters try to make it look as tho women are willing particpants, in control of what is happening to them, or really and truly getting off (yeah right) women in porn just look used and undignified. To be quite honest with you, the whole thing's kinda embarrassing. Why?

The fact is, that like it or not, men have greater muscle mass, we are physically stronger. All dynamics of hetero relationships are poised (usually rather indelicately) upon this fact. As Foucault posits, and Marx understood, power is the determinent in all relationships. Say, do what you want, there is no getting away from this.

What this means is, is that power equality between genders is impossible as we now imagine gender status and relationships to be. Forget it girly, it ain't gonna happen. You might well wield the bottom line in a boardroom, you might well be handy with a spanner in a garage, but any shared personal space with a "him" always places you in a position of inferiority.

The reason is, he can enforce his will by breaking your bones or pushing your head onto a hot plate. It happens. You can enforce your will, by how? Appealing to the minions of the law? Sure, if they can get there in time, sure, if they in their heart of hearts give a fuck about a screaming chick.

You may at this point, begin to wonder if this article is inspired by misogyny, you may think "what would you know, you fucking wannabe woman faggot?" Well, a quick look thru the statistics of any given nation (for which said statistics are available, and then realistically comparable with one another etc and so on it goes) will reveal the following biases: shelters for abused women are choc full to bursting point. Violence experienced by women is MOST OFTEN at the hands of a man CLOSE to them, ie they share private space, stranger to stranger violence is still statistically rare. (Not rare enough if you happen to be Trayvon Martin)

What conclusions can be drawn from this? The way we now imagine relationships between genders is not a statistically healthy option for women. I think this is why no matter how "empowered" the woman in porn is portrayed, it's kinda like a false veneer. A Potemkin Village. You know it's all shit, cuz underneath, the reality ain't like that. It's one of the reasons why I find hetero porn unwatchable. It's just sad.

The undercurrent of gay porn is different. No matter how rough it gets, there's always an atmosphere, a general concensus of cameraderie, men just getting it on with men. There's no pretence of "oh yeah, I respect you" there's no need for it. I think tho, this can break down where racial stereotypes are exploited, but even then, there's never that sense of unease that a physcially weaker animal must be shown to be a willing and happy participant in what in the back of many mens' (and womens' minds) is degrading. Don't think so? If it wasn't considered degrading, words like "slut" "tramp" and "whore" wouldn't exist. Wide spread censure of womens' sexual behaviour is as old as time. No, I don't think it's desirable. I suppose from a hetero man's point of view, if you don't control her sexuality, God knows how many brats she will pop out by other men. And if a woman chooses to opt out of the private "monogamous" sphere, it's much harder to control her.

To make the point a little clearer, if a woman lives in a private home with a man, accepts him as her only partner, she runs the (real) risk of experiencing violence at his hands or becoming subservient to him in tacit, creepy cognizance of his superior strength. The "don't get him angry, he might wig out" scenario.

If I were a woman, I wouldn't get married. I wouldn't ever trust my fate to someone who can, if he has a mind to (and you never, ever, ever know what someone is made of, you never ever ever know what's going on in the mind of another person. You can barely ever be certain what's going on in your own mind) could add force to his argument via superior muscle mass.

This might all sound very nhilistic and cynical, but if you visit even a few womens' refuges, hostels and safe houses, you'll see, there's nothing cynical about it. Oh and don't forget to check hetero marriage stats. 1. women are walking out of marriage in droves 2. men do better in marriage and women don't (both psychologically and physically).

I remember once a rather naive (American) woman said to me on twitter (I got rid of her, her naivity and thick headed stupidity became intolerable for me) "any woman can bring a man to his knees" I replied, "sadly, I don't think that's true, unless you can show me the statistical bias for  refuges for battered men?"

But that's it. That's the Dreamland many women appear to live in. They kid themeselves they have power, they don't.

I don't know how women can address this power imablance. what i do know,is that heterosexual sex is unnatural,  if God wanted men to have sex with women, he'd have given women cocks. ;)

Cheerz n Luv.

The Metaphor don't Work...it Just Makes You Worse...but I know I'll See Your Face Again...

Hello,

I never really had any experience with how "normal" or "whitebread" people lived their lives till I was 18. And even then I was still cloistered in a remote world of intellectual pursuit and an inner drug and anxiety war. Inner within myself. Outwardly, the things that most people take for granted: stability, day to day certainty, some kind of emotional ties to the rest of the world, - these things didn't exist for me. I barely knew they existed.

I come from a very wealthy family. Wealthy both in cash and real estate. I'm not going to outline the advantages/disadvantages of this kind of upbringing, it's not my purpose tonight. I just want to make the point that in some ways, it's very isolating. It's a different world to that experienced by most people. When I say wealthy, I mean extremely wealthy, not affluent upper class, or well off coupla million, I mean, pointless arse fuck can't ever spend this shit wealthy. You see?

It didn't make any of us any happier. My father died at a relatively young age of alcoholism related disease, Cunta, (for the uninitated, my mama) has never had an emotionally peaceful day in her life. This imbalance expresses itself as violence. I was the youngest in my immediate family, and I think by the time I came along, she had completely degenerated. Black eyes, broken bones, bloody noses were the norm. I was often away from school because I simply couldn't turn up in that state without arousing suspicion. I remember once I lost the hearing in my left ear for months as a result of being slammed into a corner of the kitchen.

I can't hit animals or women or children. I physically can't. I've broken someone's jaw with a baseball bat, I've kicked another man's head repeatedly while he lay on the ground, I've king hit guys in the face and glassed someone in a pub, but I can't hit a woman, and certainly not Cunta. She's had a shit life, and doesn't deserve being hit about by her own son. My dad was rarely violent to us as children, but he knocked Cunta about.

The last time I saw Cunta was about 2 years ago, she left me in a hotel bathroom with a cracked skull. I ended up in hospital with a shaved head and I think from memory 13 stitches? Doesn't matter. I've not seen her since. With any luck, I never will see her again. I've since twice moved countries, and recently had to change phone numbers and hide addresses. She's not going to get on a plane and come over here, but I can't face her venom. Life, in particular my life, is too short to listen to that soul destroying vitriol. I no longer have contact with anyone in my family. I only really miss my oldest brother. He's very much like me. But nicer.

At fourteen, I ran away to Scotland. Life took a very nasty turn. It's all behind me now, but it's left me punch drunk and self protective in the extreme. At the first sign of ouch, I get rid off people. See the above statement about life being too short to understand why.

At eighteen, when I could legally inherit my share of my father's will, (Cunta made my life hell tho, I had to go court and whine, snivel, beg and plead, she drip fed my ineritance to me in the most minute installments she could legally get away with) life became marginally better, my unlucky association with a paedophile drug dealer left me, amongst other things, with an addiction to heroin and a paranoid fear, mistrust and disgust of people.

And then, the unwelcome news came that I had a spreading cancer. I was 18, exhausted, completely emotionally alienated from people and ready to give up. With all the will in the world, I could not have cared less. I wasn't depressed about it, I wasn't even nervous. I was like, "oh, something else huh?" The assistant surgeon wasn't terribley confident that I'd see the next 5 years even with treatment. Her words are like an epitaph engraved in my memory cells "You are the youngest person I've ever seen with this type of cancer, the demographics are against you. The younger you are, it just spreads, with treatment, we could maybe guarentee you 5 years."

I declined treatment. I am strongly opposed to vivesection. I was too exhausted and detached from to care and nothing seemed real to me. I was unwilling to let anyone, even a surgeon into my personal space, partly because of fear and partly because of a growing hatred born of disgust towards my fellow man. At 18, my disconnect with "mainstream life"  was complete.(I can't really express it better, except perhaps to say, I have "outsider" complex).

The only regret I have is that I declined surgery, it's too late now. But even that, I don't really deeply regret. More of a "I wonder if?..." type of regret.

My experience on social media has been the first sustained contact I've had with your "average" Joe. It taught me a lot. People are (on the whole, generally speaking) conceited, power hungry, insecure, unintelligent and narrow minded. They are also childish, of low intellect and unable to distinguish between assumption, opinion and fact. I've also learnt that with these types of people, you cannot use metaphors. They don't have the capacity to understand them. They think you are speaking literally when you intend a harmless metaphor. Because they can't understand simple abstracts, they are suspicious of intelligent people. They think they are being made fun of and that the intelligent person is being sarcastic. Smack my head.

The first crowd I hung out with (more by accident than design) I wish you could see yourselves as I saw you. I wish for two minutes you could look through my eyes and feel the utter incomprehension I felt for you.

I'm very unforgiving of  and impatient with,a lack of intellectual and personal sophistication. I can't help it. Disneyland/crackpot/ kiddie fun, dufus mentality makes me cringe. I truly wish you see yourselves as I saw you. I was baffled and hit for a six most of the time. This never bothered me until a large minority led by a dead dog, began a hate campaign. Stupidity cannot tolerate the mind that's disgusted with it. I wish you could see yourselves as I saw you. What kind of people are you?

NOTE WELL:  the "you" refers to the large minority mentioned above.

I've already conceded that I'm unforgiving and impatient when confronted with what appears to me as idiocy (I mean village idiocy), my past of extremes of violence and "antisocial" or "socially destructive behaviour" (inflicted on me, I was 14 to 18 when the nightmare happened, I had no control over what happened to me for those years, this past, has left me very dismissive of  "soft headed" magical, namby pamby thinking. I can't emphasize that enough.

It was an unfortunate day for all of us when I landed on anipal twitter. Would things have gotten so nasty if I'd not used my cat as an av? No, since I've tweeted with people who admit they are people (!) I've had no problems on social media with anyone. That has to say something, no?

I have no passing shot, no parting advice to give you. I read a brilliant quote on twitter that summed up my experience with a large minority of "anipal" twitter brilliantly: "Never argue with an idiot, he will drag you down to his level and beat you with experience".


The above is extremely good advice.

Cheerz and Love (I mean that sincerely, I don't hate anyone, just cuz I find your bizarre antics both repulsive and baffling duzn't make me hate you. You're kinda sociologically interesting to me)


PS: as for illness, the tiredness and increasingly frequent unwell, sick feeling is getting to me.
But even that is just a part of life for me. I really have nothing to complain of. Materially I want for nothing, I truly love the one I'm with, and my daily life is sea, cats (8) dogs, tropical fish, music and lots of other very cool blah blah blah. Wishing the same for you all. And I do mean all.


xox

But For an Accident of Birth, You Might be As We Are

oh, well, not a great moment in domestic affairs. He sorta understood. Hey ho, these things have their own momentum and rhythm. nothing you can do.          

 Annnywayyyy.....  here we are. I hope the world is spinning on it's axis just fine for you. I'm watching Tod Brownings' Freaks. The little closed community of freaks in this film reminds me uncannily of the little closed community i was part of. We were drawn together by necessity. No-one was really your friend, all we had in common was need, greed nd a deep seated awareness and unease that we didn't really belong amongst the "non us"

The "non us" were ppl with jobs, steady cash and the harmonic hum of safe suburban life. Our world wz punctuated by violence, noise, drug fuckedness, vicious cunts and fuckery of all kinds. We each had our speciality. Being a minor and having a relatively clean record, and having a brain cell, i could get away with less hard core stuff. I never burgled a house, i preferred the instant gratification of bag snatch cash fresh from the wallet. I was fast on my feet and had no conscience. Wham Bam Thank you Ma'am. Just the cash Miss.

Men required less extreme persuasion to part with their funds. Being underage (14-18 were my years of infamy) i just had to bend over and or blow em. In case you're wondering, Yep, it's illegal to sell young boys to perverted old shitsticks, but hey ho, the code is 18. If a pimp tells you they have an 18 year old on the premises, they're telling you they have a kiddie for sale.

Anyway, one particular guy i knew always stays in my mind. He just recently got out of jail. He's a cunt. I stayed on terms with him cuz 1. he wz a dependable dealer 2. You didn't want to get on his bad side 3. you couldn't avoid the cunt. This cunt, of Italian - Croation descent, was completely useless as a crim. He couldn't rack, couldn't rob, couldn't do fuck all. Just a useless prick. Women loved him, he was gym pumped, handsome, but for some reason unknown to me, he didn't/couldn't fuck. I know cuz I was n still am friends with his wife, who is now 40 something, and still after all these years, desperate for a fuck from her old man.

The only vaguely interesting thing about this loser cunt, was that he was (according to his own little rules of ethics n logic), a Jesus Freak. He was a freak for Jesus. He used to pray to God before his little forays into other ppl's houses for a safe and prosperous return. On his knees, he made his fellow fucktards kneel down in a circle and pray to Jesus. As discussed in a prior post, Jesus loves you, even if you are a cunt. And like most airhead useless cunts of his ilk, he was regularly a guest of Her Majesty's.

I went with his wife once to visit him. Predictably, it turned into quite a bitch fest - Wifey: "I'm stuck here with the fuckin' kids, there's no fucking money, you useless bastard, you're in here for 8 years u retarded idiot, whadd'm i gnna do now? blah blah blah..." He, with all the conviction and innocence of a believer told her "God's forgiven me, why can't you?" Why not indeed... ?

And so, that was life, i stayed as stoned as possible. if i could, i worked on the street, that way, i kept everything i made, it could be dangerous tho, and if i got moved on by the cops, I worked in brothels, which was a fucking nightmare. If you're underage and a drug addict, the owners will exploit you mercilessly. What are you gnna do about it? Clients will do whatever the fuck they want. All you absolutely had to do was blow 'em and let 'em fuck you. Anything else was classed as an extra and it (ostensibly) had to be with your consent and he had to pay you extra. Whether you split that money with the brothel operator depended on how the place was run. Well, you know, if you're smacked up to the eyeballs, that fist is going up your ass whether you like it or not. there's nothing you can do about it except put up with the pain and fucking ache for days after.

Going back home was never an option. Topping myself was always on my mind. I should have done it, as things turned out, it wouldn't have made much difference.

When i turned 18, i legally came of age to inherit my share of my father's estate. it was to paid to me in a lump sum or in installments at Cunta's discretion. i had to beg n plead and take legal action before she gave me a cent. I was in a bad way. I wanted to leave the brothel i wz working for, being a teenager, i wz a human money making machine for them. I wz shooting up at least 3 times a day at this point. They said I owed them money advanced to me for drugs. That wz bullshit. I made them thousands of pounds. i never had to get money off them. they told me if I left owing them money, my life wouldn't be worth living. It wasn't anyway, but hey ho, i know these ppl, and their version of life not worth living wz nothing i ever wanted to experience. So, my then boyfriend Kyle came up with the money (I paid him back every penny), I finally got my monthly payment from Cunta (my mama) and i dried out as best i could. i enrolled into university, and the week I received my first essay back with High Distinction, I was diagnosed with cancer. Just on ethical reasons alone, I wouldn't accept treatment, but it wasn't all noble, a part of  me thought, "you know what? there's worse things than cancer. I really don't fucking care. I don't trust you or anyone alive to come near me. fuck off all of you, it's too late to expect me to care".

This kind of emotional hissy fit soon passes. The reason why, 6 years later, I still decline treatment, is that I don't believe in vivisection. I'm a vegan. Even if I could somehow squeeze it past my conscience, I still wouldn't do it. For most of my life, I've compromised myself, put up with situations and ppl that disgusted me. You can't even begin to understand so don't pretend to. I've said yes to things and men that made my skin crawl. I've had to surrender every boundary, switch off every personal impulse and feeling so I could endure what was happening to me. My conscience, my inner space is completely my own.  I know that there are ppl who don't understand, don't accept my reasons for declining treatment as valid. I don't care. This little shred of personality is the one thing I'm not giving up. The rest of my self identity is vague and nebulous, am I gay or am I, as suggested by a well meaning female friend "just conditioned to it"? who knows. My body doesn't really belong to me, my headspace doesn't really belong to me, they're both crowded with n populated by using cunts for whom I didn't exist as a human being. Each and every one of those disgusting bastards still colonizes my body and my mind. They're always there, I still feel them n hear them and it makes me want to die, it makes me hate myself. 

But my conscience, my belief long ago realised by Schopenhauer that "compassion is the basis of all morality", along with my belief that the gift of life obligates us to relieve suffering and care for the suffering, this is the frontier I'm surrendering to no one. Cancer research is particularly horrific, animals suffer horrendously. I'd rather be dead than benefit from their misery.

Eventually, Cunta on learning the kind of person I was, became so disgusted that she paid out my inheritance and gave me some old family property which i later sold, on the proviso i have no further contact with the family. Suits me.

What now? what can be learnt from this? 1. Don't get into strange mens' cars at 14. 2. Whoever you are, whatever happens to you in life, wherever you go, take care of your health, cuz once it goes, that's the start of your nightmare. 3. Don't trust anyone.

i need time to myself. I'm exhausted, the presence of other ppl exhausts me. I need to be alone. My anxiety levels remain thru the roof. I don't trust ppl. I wish I could tell you some other things, funny stuff, there were some hysterically funny moments, I'll include this one briefly: once after X (the aformentioned Jesus freak burglar/dealer) managed to fence some stuff he'd stolen, we went to a friend's hotel room (roughly 5 of us) to shoot up. it was customary for X to start ranting about Jesus and Damnation after every bit of illegal wheeling and dealing, I think it acted as some kind of catharsis, like a guilt cleansing ritual for him. He was ranting, and the other three, being not quite as religious, were telling him to shut the fuck up, I just wanted my hit, and I was laughing, finally, infuriated he grabbed me by my shoulders, stuck his face right in mine and screamed "I KNOW FOR A FACT YOU'RE GOING TO HELL!!!" Quite.

Cheerz n Luv

Stay safe

Fudge xo

Spineless

morning, I couldn't do it. couldnt say it. I'm going to tho. Sometime soon. Really.

it's much more complicated than i can be bothered explaining. It's really complicated. And sordid. 


It's mostly all my fault. It always is.

I'm going to see if he wants to come to the beach with me n the dog. He's a lovely person. He's put up with so much from and for me. i just want some space. I have to go get our coats. it's fucking cold out.

Cheers n Luv.

PS: it could be worse, i could captain of an Italian life boat. I would never get on an Italian liner. "Abandon hope all ye who enter" pointless addendum.

PPS. I have a thing for octopusses (it's not octopi, octopus is a Greek word, "i" when used to indicate plural is Latin, "Octopusses" is not strictly correct either, but the correct word is too wanky, even for me)

Cheerz Earz ;)

I am a Bad Person

Mickey D don't give a fuck if you don't want pickles. He don't compromise on pickles. Mickey's pickles are like my freedom. I don't compromise on it either. If I don't like someone, or i'm just bored with 'em, or they smell like trouble, I just fuck 'em off. Fuck off. Gone. Gonski.

i don't know why these spaces are coming out so odd. I don't care either. It's a Mickey D pickle. Don't give a fuck if you don't like it.

What 'm i gnna say to His Coolness? I want to end it. I want my fucking freedom.

Every relationship I''ve ever had, i end up the junior partner. He takes my mobile n car keys with him when he goes out. I've become a domestic neuter. I'm starting to panic. I feel like i've been buried alive. I want autonomy over my space, time and body.

What 'm i gnna say to him? "I don't give a fuck. You eat that shit with pickles."

Hey Ho

Hello! Cuz I'm a caring, sharing fellow, i included the above the image for no other reason than I care about you. I am nice.

Every time I go to close this fucked up pointless blog, there's always a fucked up pointless reason why I don't. That's the sum total of my capacity for reason. I am a fucked up pointless wanker. Amen. < ---see? I have a included a statement which (arguably) links the above image to this post. It's not there just to shock. It has, um, meaning. yeah. (in case you missed it, it's the Amen that gives the cunted picture credibility. You see?)

For those of you who have nothing better to do, here is a brief summary of my existence:

1. my Civil Union ended rather uncivilly. no big deal he was a cunt. Jesus still loves him tho, which makes Jesus a Cunt too.

2. I have my first ever "normal" job. I write media releases for a small independent publisher. i don't read the shit I write for, I just make it up really. This makes me a hack writer cunt.

3. I live on an island by the sea. Suck shit the rest of you.

4. I am with the exception of weed, drug free. Good thing? Bad thing? depends what mood I'm in. I am a moody prick. (you can call me a cunt if you want, Jesus will still love me, the sad prick)

5. My current boyfriend is very cool, but I want a break from always being the junior partner in a relationship. Why that always happens, I don't know. Must be cuz I'm a cunt. Which is why Jesus loves me.

6. My tumour is bigger, but I'm not bothered. If I had a cunt, I would swap it for a tumour anyway. I love my massive cock.

7. I am free. I owe nothing to nobody, I have financial independence, I'm beholden to nothing. The less engaged I am with material existence, the more at peace I am. I'm not a joiner. Freedom means isolation to me. I sit on the beach with my dog n my spliff and feel pure beauty.

8. I have dispensed with immaculate grammar. I no longer care for niceties. if I want to start a sentence with non capital, well, it's my blog, I can. fuck off if you don't like it.

9. I am in good physical shape

10. This post is dull n fucked up. it's a cunt. but jesus still loves me, cuz he's a silly cunt with no sense of discretion. No wonder his cunted old man didn't lift a finger to help him


cheerz n luv

(even if you are a cunt)

Jesus. xox

A Better Class of Criminal?

Hello! hope you're all well. Things are kind of 50/50 here. I seem to have that kind of life. Things happen in extremes: when it's good, nothing's gooder, when it's shit, nothing's shitter. You see?


This is the first of a series of posts about violence and criminality. The aim is to explore the relationship between violence, criminals and society.



I've always been a bit fascinated with criminals. Having been diagnosed with "Borderline Personality Disorder" (Whatever the fuck that's supposed be) by a distinctly unappealing psych based on a battery of  questionaires I blundered through, I kind of see the connection with their disparate lives and mine. I try to find common space with all people regardless of their backgrounds, but the truth is, I'm always more comfortable with "The Oustsider". Shiny Happy Disney People just bore the living shit out of me. I find myself wondering if they're not some kind of Android Automation with a wind up key in their backs and a "Made in China" sticker stuck on their twats. Well, I'm a bit of a cunt myself, so I don't really hold it against them. See, it's the "common space" thing. You am I, I am, unfortunately for the both of us, you. You see? Clear as mud.


There was a stereotypically clever French man, (I forget his name, but I'll certainly find out for you) who said, "Society gets the criminals it deserves" well, like most of his frog kind, he's absolutely right (I really loathe the French, they always say the right thing, so smug, so smart, I just fucking hate 'em, Give back Alsace and whatever else you frogs stole and I'll ease up. Fuckers)  Anyway... I feel nothing but sympathy for Charles Manson, Panzram, Kurtin, and even the revolting and vile Fritz Haarman. (I'll include links to some great info about these Monarchs of Madness when I've finished this series of posts). Their crimes were appalling, but the crimes commited against them were worse. They were young, defenceless, frightened. They endured horrific abuse for years. Their most impressionable years were spent at the mercy of state sanctioned sadists, such as parents, orphanages, childrens' prisons. I'm going to provide evidence (whatever that can mean to anyone)  for these assertions, don't worry.

So why are people as they are? How have you arrived at the person you are at this moment? Are you angry? fucked up in the head? bitter? happy? satisfied/unsatisfied? lots of things make you the way you are. Most things you have no control over. You might think you have, but you don't. Well, very often, but not always, (it can't be proved either way, unless you have access to every relevant detail) people who commit crimes of extreme violence are products of backgrounds that are more one way than the other. That is, they grow up in environments of extremes. Extremes of  violation, humiliation, poverty, violence, mental disturbance, psychological dysfunction and deprivation. Lots of things, almost anything. But always extremes.

Are people good, evil or just plain mad, bad and sad? I think we're all of these things. Every one of us. Some of us are more one way by disposition. Most of us can be driven to anything. It's always a question of power and lack of it. What does the worst of  monstrous psychological derangement look like? It looks like this: 

This is what was left of the White Chapel Murderer's ("Jack the Ripper") final victim, Mary Kelly. He cut her up, filleted parts of her to the bone. Disembowelled her, then, shits for giggles, decorated the room with her innards.I don't think anyone can look at her remains without wishing they could have saved her, spared her this. Underneath the human monster is an animal of emotion, some measure of intelligence and feeling. So why do this to each other? Why are we like this? There's no denying we do it. It happens time and time again. It happens in war, in peace, in times of deprivation, in times of plenty.

Well, I guess, I'm going to do my best to show you that violent criminals travel in the same time and emotional space you do. They are you and me, and you and me are they. Except for one difference: they got the shit luck of the draw. And we left them to their fate.


Cheers n Luv

Belladonna xo