The Frog and the Banshee

a-sadeghipour-bansheeSpilled engineered energy drinks evaporated on the ground as the citric fumes caused purple cataracts of chemical intoxication. The mouths of the crowd unhinged viperous as a cacophony of cheers swirled above their heads accumulating into a foreboding fog. The billowed haze consumed the energy of the crowd as it formed its own teeth and claws. The long talons reached into its own black mass and tore open the void exposing the glowing red eyes of the beast.

On stage, swirling smoke took the form of a man. The red eyed beast met his gaze and the man consumed the wretched creature. It soon flowed through his atria and capillaries like a blazing back draft. His body boiled and bloated. Eyes bulging, skin amphibious, his gullet expanded as he released his guttural command, “Abrocken!”

Drumsticks met the tight skin of its beaten mistress as a train spewing smoke and flames emerged and plunged through the crowd. The frog man smiled as maggots and saliva poured out of his mouth, forming a festering pool at his webbed feet. Hoping over to a cage bound in barbed wire and bits of flesh, the frog man’s tongue wrapped around the padlock and with a quick flick released the banshee.

A piercing scream filled the theater as the banshee emerged, violet eyes blazing with its talisman of power. Raising the six-stringed demon into the air, it screeched, and an explosion of chords and pitches hit the crowd like a tidal wave as a young boy hit the cement floor. 

The boy panicked as boots bombarded his body. Terror flashed across his face as he succumbed to the mob. Blood oozed from his nose as his left eye bulged purple. A panicked father flailed his arms as he tried desperately to dig through the crowd. The frog inhaled deeply preparing for the climactic howl when the ruckus caught his attention.

“Hey what the fuck? Are you stupid or something? Pick his ass up!”

Like a marionette, the boy was lifted by his limbs and passed over the tops of the crowd onto the stage. The frog wrapped his webbed hands around the bloodied boy grinning a salavic smile, “Sorry kid. These people are fucking animals.”

frog

If the BVG was an RPG

  • Okay, finally settled, got my apartment, I’m gunna start exploring the city, looks like I have to select a character okay
  • Select character
  • You have selected — U8
  • Perfect, now that I’ve selected a character, let’s start exploring the-
  • U8 has engaged in a fight
  • Wha- oh godamnit!
  • *Battle Music Initiated* U8 versus Hausverwaltung
  • Use>Magic>Reveler/Drunkard
  • U8 has become intoxicated
  • Hausverwaltung attacks with increased rent prices
  • Oh goddamnit! I just moved here! You fuckin- gah!
  • Use>Power>HAUSMUSIK
  • U8 dances and is now unresponsive to battle commands
  • Hausverwaltung attacks with “Noise Complaint: Final Notice.”
  • U8 is severely injured.
  • Heal!
  • U8 is intoxicated and ignores “Heal.” Uses MDMA.
  • U8 is unresponsive to battle commands uses>item>Berghain Entry Stamp
  • U8 uses combination HAUSMUSIK and Berghain Entry Stamp. Causes massive area effect.
  • Hausverwaltung is confused.
  • Now’s my chance to get out of here!
  • Use>Summon >S41 & S42: The Twins
  • ***long silence*** Where are they?
  • Hausverwaltung is no longer confused.
  • Summon>Night Bus 50!
  • Night Bus 50 will arrive next turn! Or end of match! Or next match!
  • Hausverwaltung summons U6. Combined attack “Fine Print Loophole & Checkpoint Charlie: Tourists.”
  • Combined attack missed U8.
  • Summon>Mieteverein>Mieterverein is closed
  • Flee/Run.
  • You are unable to flee. Hausverwaltung uses “Contract.”
  • Flee/Run.
  • You are unable to flee. Hausverwaltung uses “3 Month Notice.”
  • Flee/Run>Nightbus 50 has arrived! You have successfully fled from the Ringbahn arena!

Who are the People that would Believe Me?

Who are the people that tell you yes?
Who are the people that tell you no?
Who are the people that tell you to be?
Who are the people that tell you to be anything but?
Who are the people that make you?
Break you?
Throw you?
Lift you?
Who are the people that are there when you are most alone?
Most alive?
Mostly living alone?
Who are the people that see you?
Who are the people that hear you?
Who are the people that understand you?
Who are the people that would believe this?

When I was a little girl, a spirit followed me to Las Vegas. Running alongside the moving truck, it’s legs twisting into wings, it howled, “write damn you!”

It slithered into the clouds as I turned to tell my mother.

“That’s a nice story sweetie, and don’t say damn.”

Where are the people who would believe this?

 

Psychopathic Passive Aggressive Notes to Myself

Two socks, neither are mine.

Your fridge approached me the other day. It was an unwelcome advance.

You conduct an abnormal amount of static electricity. I am quite tired of your electrical current.

Where did you put the key to that memory?

Fuck you brain for phantom pain!

I see that you have failed to follow instructions.

Looking for another state of consciousness again huh? Spin around and think about the taste of purple!

The fridge says hello!

Please do not buy any more journals. You are just provoking her.

You are my legacy.

You are my false god.

 

 

 

You’ve Got a Friend in Your Split Personality

I am very lucky to have friends who understand the psychosis, who fuel it, and support it through a creative medium. Here is a collaborative zene talking about our inner monsters.

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(Special thanks to: Adrianna Sauceda, Donovan VimCrony, Toni Neezy. Dear friends, if I missed you, let me know your tag and I will be sure to add you :))

 

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