AliasKai

     Two kights and their horses align themselves for a joust. One, clad in ornate silver armor with bronze gilding around the joint and an intricate grilled helmet sporting a purple plume. He expertly hauls his large, shining lance to his side, a small shield in the other.     And as righteous he looked, his opponent looked equally and oppositely exquisite. Dark colored metal twisted around his limbs, his helmet was smooth in the front, with only two empty eyeholes interrupting the visor, as it sloped back to a point. The most interesting feature of this individual, however, was the corperal horse on which he was mounted, with it's equine

     The jubilant cries and coos echoing down Baron Francis Wit's dining halls belayed his assistant from informing him that the entertainment had arived. The lithe young woman persisted and tapped on the rotund lord's shoulder, until finally he twist to face her with such energy that his silver goblet slipped out of his hand and drenched the poor maid in his drink. Her modest white and blue robes now stained purple with wine. She shrieked and began to tremble, trying to squeeze the news out:      "Sir th-the bard has arri-" Her sentence was cut short as the Baron once again spun to face the

     People running and shouting and running and existing.     The idea that those things could coexist and in that moment of time be the only point of living was intriguing. A portion of you life devoted solely to running and screaming.     A hand shook me violently then flung me along with it as a smoke cloud reluctantly let go of my foot. The man spoke words but they did not register with my brain as well as my own thoughts did. He pulled me several blocks away from the calamity, and the sights we saw on the way.     People running exposed because they lost their shirt in the fire. A man carrying a woman carrying a child carrying a t

     I will die someday, because I am human. And when I die, I don't want to be sober when it happens. Tobacco, alcohol, weed, cocaine, oxaycotin, hydro, LSD, heroin, meth, anything. I don't want to be in my right mind when it happens. I don't want to be in reality when it happens. I don't want to be in reality ever. No one deserve to be strapped into the eternal, indiscriminate, immoral stretching rack that is reality.     Who has honestly woken up from a dream, hell, even a nightmare, and said "You kno what, being awake is better than that!"  No. No one. No fucking one in the entire history of people who want to be dead (everyone) has an

    I awake in a large city. The building are simply tall, grey squares, rising into the sky at varying hieghts. Looking around, I discover everything is coated in a boring, blnd, gray, except for the sky. It is avibrant baby blue, with the clouds being combinations of blues, yellows, oranges, and greens. I pull my self up, completely un-enthusiastically, and walk down what ever street is presented infront of me. There are no cars, and there isn't even a dividing line in the road or stop lights in the intersections. Every once in a while, there is a ghost like figure, floating along the side walk, whose body appears to be made of a thin cloth