I wanna write

Once upon a time in a misty litte village lived a dwarf boy and his gnome parents. All the other gnome boys would laugh at him because he was a dwarf and not a gnome. He didn't care though cause he had a trusty hash pipe. All day he would sit with Alice and together they would explore the new wonderland beneath the mushroom forrest. Twas there that he discovered the magic of it all. He didnt even know where he was or what was going on in the story but alice had her tits in a knot and that gave him his best thought yet:"Gnomes and dwarfs are not that different (perhaps a slight difference,and gnomes wear funny hats and chill in gardens while dwarfs chill underground)". he considered this for a moment then he jumped up and round-house kicked Alice in the teeth. "You human bitch!why didnt you tell me about the gulf war?!" he shouted, "Fuck you, lets go to a sexy party...NOW!". Alice wiped the blood off her chest and smiled a toothless grin. He reached up and climed up her pony tale,riding her like camel towards a lumo sexy party. That was all to embarrassing for alice who threw him into a coffee grinder that emptied into a mincing machine which poured the remains of the poor dwarf onto two pieces of bread. Mmmm,dwarf sandwich!

The End

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Day 7665

There wasn’t much that happened today that didn’t happen all over Brazil. Of course some areas have it a lot less. The areas that are dirty, supposedly uncivilized and whose streets are tarred with litter are the types of places where they only go seasonally-When the harvest is great and the people are ready. But on the wide streets of urban Rio, across the corporate offices and beside the Supreme Court live the devils soldiers amongst the devils puppets. In an environment exploding with corruption, lies and sinful agendas, the soldiers of Satan await to take the boss’ puppets back home. The people of the slums are humbled and thus have no agendas of doing wrong. But when the reality of the intense poverty rises to their eyes and they loose all inhibitions, allowing the Demonio to engulf their villages. But where there is always sin in the concrete jungle and the Demonio are attacking more frequently and at a larger scale than be for. Deaths have been framed as suicides, villages burnt down due to ‘carelessness’ and the whole country believe what they read in the morning newspaper. The ramblings of a crazy young man go unheard. I did not want the truth to be visible to me at all times but it is. I did not choose to know when every individual is lying, nor did I choose to know the exact time of every passing person’s death down to the second. I did not wish for a foresight into the worlds above and below but that is what I’ve been cursed with and I shall carry it to my grave, knowing the full truth. Let us hope, Dear Diary, that soon I will be listened to and peace shall ensure. Let’s hope for a time when my day is so boring that I wont be able to fill the top line.

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