Hic Sunt Dracones

the smylere with the knyf under the cloke

The Tail Between The Pug’s Legs

The fish in the water is silent, the animal on the earth is noisy, the bird in the air is singing.
But Man has in him the silence of the sea, the noise of the earth and the music of the air.
Rabindranath Tagore (1861–1941), Indian poet, writer, and philosopher. Stray Birds.

The pug still bark, reek as fug and the Bitch in her as malign as the cancerous disease in her mind — physically and mentally. She still hearing recurrent ephemeral “voices” in the splinter of her mind, which she interpret as actual conversation. The outcome is a tragedy to her fragile being. She’s in psychosis of persecution complex, although she better off with tangible carcinomatosis. She deserves pity only because of her Münchausen syndrome tendency. She gain not a friend, or lost not an enemy, but a mere presence to her own pathos reality.

Her tenable approach to “cyberfriend” is abhorrent and scant of actual idiosyncrasy she trying hard to subject to her new found “friend”. Her sectarian view is of eremite haruspex of the “cyberworld”, with sputum — bile and bloodied — among the entrails of a pug as her only lead. As if she’s the only fracking person needed to get the attention after all the hassle and expectation had been set forth. Selfish pug.

Terhegeh-hegeh nak jumpa pagi-pagi even though it’s already laid out per schedule. Tak jumpa “cyberfriend”, jumpa bf “cyberfriend” pon jadi, and she didn’t stop there. Yes, none of that superfluous “one big red dot” of period. Still continuing to fracture the riff in the personal life of others like the wannabe relationship counselor she is, whereas she might as well STFU. Tak cukup ngan bf “cyberfriend”, kawan “cyberfriend” pon jadi dia toronnya. You are a welcome svengali in that “first meeting” while you sibuk-sibuk dengan bf “cyberfriend”. Only the leash is wee bit short around your neck, the comfort of your introverted kennel extended to the boundary of everyone else realty of reality, is in a very bit discomforting like the flea ridden pug with that wet fug.

Funny that you never mention how discomforting I’m during the first meet until 6 month later. Ironically, I never even interested with your whole affair of ideal “cyberfriend” meeting, only that you’re interested to gedik-gedik and save the very soul of your bf “cyberfriend” from the bad people like us. The nerve to call us judgemental! I said this before, and I said this succinct observation of her again:

“Leni’s bathos is apropos, quite a pathos-etic she is. I pity my placid mental faculty and lauding her lucid elucidatory discernment. She’s the next un-Terran Jehovah personification. Praise her for she will JUDGE you on this realm of sanctity.”

I stay away the likes of you like a plague, I don’t give a damn if I’m not in the list of your so called friend. You are the one who fracking added me in those collection of “stranger” list in the first place. I’m not even bother to be your “extended cyberfriend”.

Vorsicht vor falschen Freunden

Go live in your precious kennel of sacred mindfuck all I care. If you keep hearing those enigmatic voice, you better start going to see Mr. Jung or Mr. Freud, but then again you’re the Jehovah. Who needs mortal when you’re the canine Anubis.

/quote huhuhu /unquote

Oppss…wrong quote.

/quote heh /unquote

PS: I’m a closet misogynist, bitch.

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Written by cthulhu

May 5, 2007 at 4:13 am

Posted in life and dream

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