Fire flickers My heart sighs At your vacant expression I don’t need anything more A pair of arms to shelter in Than sweet soul kisses To make me happy I bleed every time you turn away Leaving me overflowing with flickering fire
The bumblebee hums
Dipping and dancing
Around the sweetest bloom
And so the lesson
Deeper then the blade’s song
His strength brings pleasure
He is your undoing
You look right through me as though I’m not there
And it hurts a little to know that I mean so little
Little enough that you don’t know me
And you should, by now
I’m an object d’art, a decoration on the fringes, fixture
It’s painful to understand that its about pieces
And not the whole, as I’d always hoped.
Not about a human with a heart, emotions, preferences.
So I sit here, missing cigarettes and needing a drink
Denying myself both, wondering,
why am I still here?
Enroute Phoenix AZ 5 pm Final Destination – Los Angeles CA
I am on the way to the sunshine state, and looking forward to the warmth after the chilly climes of my rocky mountain home. On my iPad, I’m watching Iowa, and find myself giggling at Esper Harte waving his gun around. My seat mates are interested and interrupt my viewing to ask about the film. They asked the right girl, and naturally I obliged, turning on The Orphan Killerto give them a taste of my favourite monster’s wrath. As always, talk turns to Matt Farnsworth and give them the lowdown, and links, and resume my viewing. But still I muse, knowing soon enough I’ll fill my eyes with more madness and bloodsauce than a girl can handle, what can I say about Matt Farnsworth? Besides the obvious?
The eyes THE EYES and they are the deepest pools of blue this girl has ever seen. Trust me people, they are authentic blue. No contacts enhance those babies. Are they hypnotizing? Absolutely! Most of us would willingly drop to our knees and pledge devotion for just one gaze. Body? Yes, he is in mean shape, legions of sighing and drooling women would love to sit in on a Farnsworth Gun Show, some men too. The Tattoos, now that is some fine decoration to adorn such a bonecover. We do delight our eyes in the physical beauty of this man, and we let him know. With no remorse.
For me, it’s what lies behind the eyes that holds my interest, that beautiful mind. Such talent he holds in that mind. I could be eloquent about it, but I think blunt is the perfect way to honor him. He is an incredible talent. Inspiration has come hard and fast directly from the Cruel Creator of our favourite unfriendly neighbourhood monster, Marcus Miller. A word, an image posted, the delighted continual viewing of his brainchildren brings something new to the forefront each time. For now, its time to board my next flight, the one that will take me to LA and the adventure that lays in wait for me.
8:35 pm Los Angeles CA LAX – Airport
It’s Wednesday night, and LAX is a bustling hub of humanity, mostly friendly and unaware of the terror that stalks the shadows. My research tells me that Los Angeles is full of monsters, and I see them dancing merrily in the eyes of several around me. I could be unnerved, but I know that there is a bigger, meaner menace in the city tonight, and nothing these minor demons could show me can terrify me more than the one I’m going to meet, and his minder, Father, Matt Farnsworth. And it’s Matt I’m most curious about.
The air is close and I begin to shiver in anticipation, as I hail a cab and arrange my destination. The driver glances at me quickly, and back to his GPS before requesting confirmation. He’s nervous, and shakes it off as he takes my bag and opens the door. How chivalrous, and fascinating. As we travel, I begin to hear a low muttering, reasons why it’s not safe for a women alone there, earnestly attempting to change my mind, and shaking his head as I tell him it’s the safest place to be, that night. He doesn’t know of the madness. He will.
Ahead, lies the bloody oasis I’d been craving, a perfect place where bloodsauce flows, and some of the most creative minds I’d had the pleasure of meeting gather. The cab driver falls silent and I’m glad for the end to the endless chatter I’d been assaulted with, my mind already in the adventure ahead. I have little idea of what is to befall me, what sort of cruel scenario I may be walking into, the possibilities are endlessly drool-worthy, save the kind and loving words of my sister in slay Diane Foster, and her wicked sense of timing, I knew only that my death was to be exactly how I would choose to go, at the hands of viciousness personified, and her bloody big brother, He who has plagued my dreams for over a year now. How I adore her. I quote. “Oh. btw…we’re going to chop you up on Monday.”
So now I had an inkling as to what is on deck for me, and little else to go on. Strangely enough, I’m not worried. I should be, where the Miller Killers and axes are concerned, but instead I’m simply curious, nervous and ready to face one of the bigger events of my life thus far. In a short time, I will be in the presence of horror royalty, an audience with dark king Matt Farnsworth, and my curiosity becomes smothered by a nervous energy. I’d learned upon my first meeting with Matt that unpredictably was to be expected, that where this particularly brilliant man is concerned, it was something to be looked forward to.
The cab pulls up to a large gate on a deserted street that would normally make me cringe, watching as a lone man unlocks and allows the cab entry. My greeter turns out to Simpat Beshirian, he of Severed Souls/Nocternal Creations and the man behind the bloodsauce. This, is where movie magic has been taking place, and the site of much bloodshed and mayhem. This is the set of The Orphan Killer 2 Bound x Blood. the location that the TOK Murder Crew have been filming in looms over me, the heavy scent assaulting my sinuses and making my eyes water in defence. It’s a fantastic place to film, all the shadows and dark corners inviting murderous fun. Here and there I see evidence of the bloody vision Matt is bringing to life, and I swear I can taste the madness in the air.
And, just like my first sighting of the elusive smile, I am struck by the beauty of it, though thankfully not speechless, this time. I break protocol and embrace the madness, my dark king, my Brother, and am amused by the sinister gleam in his eyes. I should learn to be afraid more often. This night is a homecoming of sorts, a first time reunion of family and friends that bemuses me. Onlybabysisteris missing from the fray, and is missed.
I watch my Brother in Brutality, and listen to the surreal and blasé conversation about the kill about to happen. He slips into his directors role like second skin, his mind’s eye suddenly visible in my own, as he describes what he sees. For anyone listening in, it would easily have been the strangest and scariest they might have ever witnessed. Not for this crew, however, their creativity overflows, almost electric and in each eye I see the same, focused interest.
Camera in hand, I trail behind, taking in my surroundings in this obviously haunted place. Laughing male voices lead me deeper into the maze of shelves and in some cases lethal looking metal implements, to where they all stand, surrounding Marcus’s most recent prey. I stay where I am, only doing what I do best, watching them work. Unable to resist, I creep out to snap shots of true brutality, the likes I’ve never seen, and to the point the first taste of Matt’s vision leaves me taken aback. It is much different animal, you see, when you see it played out live in front of you, rather than finished on your screen. It’s raw, and incredible to witness. Watching Matt direct from behind the camera holds much interest for me, and I intend to observe him at every opportunity. Coming into my line of sight is Marcus Miller, his mask and shirt splattered with the blood of the fortunate souls who have crossed him. He hulks out of sight, but not out of earshot and what comes next shivers me into sickened giggles. It seems Matt is pleased as well from the bellow of laughter. This crew does indeed move like a well oiled thrasher, nearly a dance if you tune out the evil chuckles. the hulking beast becomes my Brother in Slay Matt Horwichand all seem right with the world. I stand, chatting with Keeperand taking in as much as my eyes will hold, when I hear my name, and the manner in which my dispatch would come, only hear another evil chuckle from Keeper.
Lessons are big with me, and I learned that I’m going to die, in the most brutal, painful, terrifying way possible, and I couldn’t be happier or more scared. I snap a shot of Matt, at that moment, when I found out, one that I will cherish for the darkly pleasant smirk on his face. My perception of Matt Farnsworth changed at that moment. I suspect it will evolve further as I become immersed deeper into his vision. Always have had I had the utmost respect for Matt, his talent and his way with his fans, that has never changed. What has, watching him now, that beautiful camera on his shoulder and focused intently on his task at hand, is how his mind is a funhouse and that in that moment, his Monster is real – a breathing, remorseless psychopath. My arrival was like baptism by fire, and I’ve survived the experience. In 2015, you will see if you survive yours. The Miller Killers are coming for you….are you ready?
“Are we there yet?” I ask, after what seemed like the longest taxi ride in history. Max laughs, places a kiss on my cheek, and replies, “Almost, love.” A short time later, the car slows and comes to a stop. Max opens the door, takes my hand, and helps me from the back seat. “Can I take the blindfold off n…” Before I can finish my question, I am swept into his arms. “Soon, Sweetie. Soon.” He instructs the driver to leave our bags with the doorman, and carries me inside.
I am placed gently on my feet, and the blindfold is removed from my eyes. We are in an elevator. As Max reaches past me to select our floor, I remember our first elevator ride together, and that first kiss. This brings a smile to my face. It seems like forever ago, although only a few days have passed…
Its rare that a piece will touch me in such a profound way, and the following words are one of those times. Upon first reading, it reached in and grabbed my heart in its fist, squeezing it. As a mother, it nearly destroyed me.
Its rare that a piece will touch me in such a profound way, and the following words are one of those times. Upon first reading, it reached in and grabbed my heart in its fist, squeezing it. As a mother, it nearly destroyed me. I give you Alone, by Dave Web, Dark One
Where has my mother gone?
I look for her here, I look for her there
I shout her name and still she doesn’t come….
Can she hear me, I wonder?
Or is this just her little game?
I cry sometimes as I look for her.
Is she looking for me and can’t find me?
I stand still and don’t move in hopes that she will see me.