Evolutions: Slika's ugly truth
Topic: Out of my mind
The blood wasn't the worst of it. Somehow you you can get used to that. You don't have to believe me, but it does happen. It washes off eventually - off your clothes, your skin, your conscience. It's the memory that stains and grows dull over time, nondescript.

The worst part is the eyes.

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Consume
Mood:  lazy
Topic: Out of my mind
Heavier metals than you
Have settled in my veins,
But still I find you comforting.
I waste energy on you.
I shiver.
I fret needlessly.
You've become the excess salt,
The second and third portion,
The endless cups of coffee.
I wish to consume you
And grow fat on you,
Until I die of you.

Stalk
Mood:  caffeinated
Topic: Out of my mind
I can see your sly glances, the look of recognition. We make a silent, secret conspiracy as we play this game. My name whispers in the soft brush of your hair against your cheek; my taste lingers at your fingertips. I can't feel the heat of your desire from this distance, but I can see the haze of it rippling around you. You crave my attention, and you will turn towards it like a sunflower - helpless against your natural evolution. We orbit one another in a constant series of near collisions. I have your utmost wishes in my back pocket.

Do you ever tire of the clumsy dance we make? Will I be tossed aside casually when you find a better lover? When will your unknown caress go cold and be denied? I know my time draws shorter; my breath comes in lessening gasps. We are made of the same flesh you and I, but our conjoining is conspired against. We are traitors in a crumbling democracy of shame and fear.

Match your feet into my footsteps as I lead - as I follow the trail you yourself have led, and the spiral becomes an endless mandala of our mutual but unspoken obsession. Each hiding place I find still bears the warmth of your recent habitation. I look at you and I see my twin reflections in your wide eyes. They snap shut like a trap and hold me helpless; I bleed love letters in looping script until the pen runs dry.

Nice package
Mood:  mischievious
Topic: Out of my mind
You know that silly joke, the one about how when you corrupt, er I mean convert, someone to homersexuality you get a toaster oven? True. No, really it is, for the most part.

See, only the lesbianese get those. It's all a part of how they're entirely too mannish to make a proper chi-chi breakfast and they need something to heat up their butch little bagels and whatnot in. The fags, seeing as how we're all too queeny to get our hands dirty, get a mechanic.

Mine finally got here. You'd think they would have been on top of this, but apparently things have been backed up at the Homo Depot. (Formerly based in Hawaii but now with a branch in Vermont.) Poor guy must have been in the dead letter office for a while, and he's starting to smell. I feel kinda bad for him. And from what I can tell he might have been cute too. He's got those porno mechanic coveralls on, with a name patch that says Chad. (Because you know in a gay porn there has to be someone named Chad.)

I'm just going to assume he doesn't have underwear on. I can't bring myself to check - that's entirely too nasty. I don't know where to bury him, and I know they're not going to send a replacement.

I am Amunn-Hoochie-Cootchie! Bow down!
Topic: Out of my mind
Is it really profitable to have a cult?

I think I would make a fantastic cult leader. I don't believe in the existence of truth so I have no trouble at all fostering complete nonsense. I have a complete disregard for sheep-like people. I have interesting eyebrows and can grow a bushy beard.

But would it really be worth all the effort it takes to set up a tent city in the back yard and attract a bunch of no-personality types to come and live on second-hand bongwater? Sure, I can have them sign everything over to my alias and I would eventually be filthy rich. And since there's a good chance that anything I say would eventually lead my hapless followers to off themselves in creative ways I can rest easy knowing I didn't order it.

I just don't want to have to clean up the mess. And I dread the inevitable standoff with government forces, leading me to escape through the secret tunnels and leave some patsy behind to take the heat. Also, our bathroom just can't handle that many people, and I don't think Porta-Potties are cost effective in the long term. Oh wait - guess there's no long term to worry about.

Maybe I should just go to an evil technical school and get a degree in Weird Science instead. Then all I'd need is a snazzy costume and world domination is mine.