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A tale of fog and mist.“There’s a sea of fog, somewhere out there.A tale of fog and mist. by jellyfishy-of-doom
It surrounds an island, though it wasn’t always there. On the island there was a beautiful Jungle, and in it lived a beautiful woman. She was completely at peace in that jungle, but she never wanted to share it with anyone else, she set fearsome beasts to guard it. One day, a witch happened upon the island, she flew down and came to rest in The First-tree at the centre of the jungle. Soon the beautiful woman found out, she went to the witch and shouted warnings and threats, declaring that the witch would taint her jungle, when they didn’t work, the beautiful woman attacked the witch.
Enraged at the woman’s selfish ways, the witch cursed her and ignited the tree. It coursed throughout the entire jungle in a heart-beat, travelling along the entangled roots. “Your selfish ways have doomed you!” the witch screamed before she departed. The beautiful woman began to weep, not just for her jungle, but because
Something forgottenI can't help but feel a slight fluttering in my chest, it's weird. Usually I'm fine, but then an uncertain sound will scratch at my heart and mind, it will wriggle it's way around my skull and orbit my brain in some sort of ticklish frenzy until I have no choice but to think "What!" and even then it doesn't reply!Something forgotten by jellyfishy-of-doom
Yet even so there is still a dim realisation, a nudging desire for me to acknowledge what it means. Unfortunately I can't quite hear what the little voice is saying yet, so I'm not too sure what It means, the whole fiasco. But I think that I'm still experiencing the effects, I am still feeling the tugs that the voice warns of, but I have ignored it for so long, why is it louder now? it can't be. Can it? Love?
heart-beat"Think about it for a second" you tell yourself.heart-beat by jellyfishy-of-doom
you see I wasn't sure what it was, I'm still not sure.
Could it be that the fluttering of my heart all those years ago warranted more attention than was given? With time I had convinced myself that It wasn't real, it had happened before.
There's a knot inside you, spinning at impossible speeds, flinging off strings of excitement like the heart-beat of a humming-bird. It had happened with others before, when I saw them the fluttering would start. But then when I saw you, it wasn't the same. The density was greater and the excitement was electric.
We were more like acquaintances, knowing each other but not quite friends, a little less for lack of contact. But when I was lucky enough to be in the same class with you, it took me by surprise. Your laugh was like nothing else, no-one had laughed at my jokes the way you did, no-one had a smile like yours, no-one matched your beauty.
But you will probably never know of what I feel, I'm much to f
Not for Public Consumption, What a Contradiction.Why can music do what it does?Not for Public Consumption, What a Contradiction. by jellyfishy-of-doom
Why do books form bonds with your soul?
How come art loves and speaks, and creating brings a peace into you?
Whenever I read a book I know it is real, even before i have picked it up, it's soul lies within the many others who have read it and the one who wrote it. What could ever be more real than stories, stories that you have lived in you heart and mind, that are woven into you by the long winding bothria of words.
Whenever I pick up my guitar, when i strum a single chord, I know that this, if anything, is right. I can lose myself in perfecting the ever-changing sound of the guitar,where you could learn for a life-time and still miss-place a chord on its whim. When I am in that stage of perfecting, my thoughts of evil are carried away from me on the curves of sound, they become a thing that once was.
Whenever I have sudden inspiration, I know that I can buckle down, isolated on my bed, and surround myself with pens and pencils, rubbers and paper, rulers