A Remedy for Post-Apocalyptic Beasties and a Way to open a Door without a Key...

  The full potential of living has been lost to us, and the greatest mistake seems to be that we believe that we are certain people. That I couldn't do that because I'm not an artists or a musician or a writer or a scientist.
  What we tell ourselves will eventually come true, and it is only then that we will realize that we want what we don't have and don't want what we have.
  Our beliefs will become reality and we won't want them.
  I however, have decided that I like to believe that for argument's sake, everything is possible. True a lot of it can't be done without money and oh we dream of all the things we will do when we have more dollars or less chaos in our lives.
  However we'll still continue not to do those things even if we have all the resources necessary, unless we learn to look beyond the gigantic goals and focus on the potential we do have access to.

  So...

   List of things to do if you Do happen to be Mr. or Mrs. Money-tootin-bags...

Get a week off work, close your eyes, point to a random spot on a world map and then go there: no matter where it happens to be.

(Except perhaps Iran)

If you happen to be desperate for food that isn't microwaveable or made from corn starch, buy a cookbook and bake every recipe in it. 

Believe me, if your life is monotonous you will find it extremely enjoyable.

  Travel to really obscure, hard-to-find places around the area you live and send challenges by text message for your friends or family to find you. 

  Create a college for creative writer's in which young writer's with potential are scouted out for possible scholarships there. The college would give student's access to every asset and tool they need while working with the best editor's and writer's in the world to create their own masterpiece. Even if it took years, by the end of it, the college would guarantee their publication.

  (Okay...that's just my dream heehee)

Things to do if you do happen to mostly-be-broke...

Write a book. 

(Seriously, everyone does it these days, and if you haven't yet because of how common it seems, do it anyway!)

Have a two hour hot bath with candles and incense.

Explore a forest (if you can find one), or your own neighbourhood.

Build a hideaway.

Create your own language or learn one.

 Read a really old book.

  Spend a day inside a library (believe me, the people you meet!)

  Set yourself up in a shady spot outside with a jug of cold drink and an extravagant sun hat if need be and watch the world go by.

Send letters to all your friends.

.............

Ahm, I'm sorry for this interruption but Miss Scarlett has temporarily faded and has in all regards rewarded me the position of host for the remainder of this blog.

You might know me by many names (though dear Scarlett will have most likely misled you with her tall tales and gloomy fears)

I know however that you are not people to dwell on gloom dear friends.

I am that voice in your ear and heart that you have not ever seen fit to name, though I won't hold that against you.

No...you are the people who will excel in the world, and I must say...it is not through hard work - like she says. Why is it that the most rich and corrupt in this world are also the most successful? 

It is exactly that! It is the lowlife's that run this world, and without them society would perish.

If there were no law-breaker's , there would be no need for police and laws, and really all the government is designed to do is keep us in order: so if there were no disorder there would be no need for order tactics.

Therefore what need would we have for them and what need is there to pay them?

The entire world would become even more broke than it is!

My point, if you will allow me...is none of this. 

May I be that small suspicion that you have, that small thrilling sensation to step harder on that brake peddle, "just one more sip" from that bottle. 

No one will care if you do that, hundreds of people, no thousands of people have done it already and they aren't dead, where is the harm?

Dead is dead yes? Alive is alive.

And you are still alive...aren't you?

So for now I will continue to whisper...

  Enough please! I will give in to demands and post the third instalment of Scar's poem. I must say though that the dear girl didn't find herself strong enough to confront the darkness she found when writing these poems. 

  For that, she stopped writing this particular set of poems at the fifth instalment. Tish, such a shame that she takes herself so seriously.

  Regards my friends,

Ah and a piece of advice...Be the Bad,

Mr. White and S.

Story of a Wolf Part III:

Him or Me?

Half his pain was his anger, the way he'd scream and claw...
Ripping up the walls of his room, tearing his own jaws...
It wasn't just hunger, or the will to feel, but a burning pain that screwed his heart...
kept it beating when he wanted death...
That wolfs' howl echoed, each and every night...
Until it sunk, impressed on my mind...
His eyes were the creators, of his own demise...
His life the curse, his body the chains...
His body hung limp, not just from what they'd done...
It was because he let them.
His days had decided to resist,
though he begged them to stop...
He refused to eat, to love, to live, even when I tried...
For him.
He gouged my heart, after I had so willingly thrown...
He could not feel, turned blind with hatred...
Each night I'd hear him screaming, 
the dints in his walls the only clue,
The pulled out claws I was forced to ignore in the hope he would be cured...
I fought for reason, in a world where there was not,
Tried to love him, when my scars grew more than bones...
He was a beast, scalding to kill, not me, but himself...
I could only watch, as he drove himself from slumber, night after night, after night, after night...
Pacing a path in the floor,
I screamed at myself, to let it go...let him go, keep me,
Yet he took what I had, because I offered and gave,
My tracks matched his.
Who am I? Him or me?