My girl from the stone circle episode at #ARTBELOW, /the “SETUP.JOB” . reboundtakedown./SPE£CTACLE.DIGICOMEDY.HUMILIATIONPRO.NNN-BBC/+”BDSM?>”_psychopathy is ground floor in this business…
she was like from blade runner. She roll like a real spy, like a house of lords ho. The nipples, a work of surgical disaster, a tragedy between my lips. I held her in the dark, while the sneaks took photos in infrared.
These stalkers know no limits. What else might be hidden in that frame, in black on black, the void space with a naked girl in the corner, matching like a machine photocopy… the portrait hung next to the fulham window shop where people onece got thrown out the windows to their […] She’s in the corner, and black on black in the rest of the frame…
A setup?
a riddle? or something secret painted over. A reference to my artists stagehand matte black approach to the way of living, and the ideas that these arseholes have taken off me and used to humiliate and bully, at considerable time and expense. Thieves, they want to take your llife and watch you suffer. To pillage with hubris.
I learned of the dark and the inkiness of it in the basement of the Diorama - the darkest places I’ve been are photographic darkrooms, where colour theory becomes =extreme…
Do you believe in Ghosts?
It’s WW1 to the left of either entrance of that TOWN HALL - asset stripping by whom?
Tony the MAfia cab driver with a penchant for underwater porter?
From that “great war” a century ago… the plaques on the door of the FULHAM TOWN HALL REVEAL… dates.. names… and military ranks of politicians. The MAJORs. A few came back alive.
They were serious.
CO.
And Some people are born a rank above.
=surgical levels of commitment. A serious once in a lifetime performance. I can see the BDSM dungeon like a glass doll, through the communication of the fashion movement. Oh this girl’s looking at me just so? I know what' she wants.
I’m sorry, that’s not just barbie, what have they done, and what are you taking? I can feel the warmth beneath the skin. Lonely?: Not when you’re coiled round a…
Oh I’m not just any old any old, you know? I know you know… You didn’t realise? Oh you see into my eyes now, for real. Up close. You realise.
Oh such conductor, the opiates, the commitment, the blade runner plastic people, the plastic SS, the hydrocortisone zone, the laser ablation, the plastic infill, the collagen from don’t ask and we won’t tell.
The NDA. THe Cartel.
The Eastern Star’s signature in every area. Eyes Wide Shut? I’m Sherlock Holmes crossed with Q branch from SOE. It’s not a look, I’m very much for real.
Tho beauty, painting, love is in the eye of the beholder. IN the iris shines the sunshine of the soul.
Plastic surgery... the louis vuitton bodywork..
For me… I knew she was a professional just from the look and feel. The delicacy. Those… made to measure features. The button placed just so. The weirdest nipples ever... like dealing with the work of an alien technology syndicate making sex toys out of plastic parts of androids. Oh baby, what are you? Who made you this way? If I bend you which way, what pain do you feel? Do you know about plastic mesh, and the stabbing bayer plastic shards in the fallopian tubes of my friend Allira?
Goodness knows… goodness knows. The cost. The pain. The hidden scars, invisible beneath the surface.
It's a kinda hot look but it's terrifying gothic when you really consider the cost and teh drugz involved. The coma MKULTRA butterfly... knife into the genitals with no anaesthetic/ just the opiods... psychedelic pleasures... mutilations of the body... jouirneys of the mind... antiquity mystics... the death of sacrificial... ay ay ay... CPTSD... PCOS... femdom bullying... COBRA suite bullingdon club house of lords cambridge five right up the Putin CYBARWAR.PEDO.HO HO HO / This video is a XMAS TURKEY Then think... A forest of fiberoptics in a hat... and the fact that Blackstone released the full-wrap "neuralace" technoplastic brain implant that's 50x harder than drugs to use in 2004... to coincide with the GLOBAL WAR ON TERROR... CIA MKULTRA has a legacy, and it's for the banking industry. The serious supercomputers. The harder than LSD. The Jacob's ladder remote viewing for real...we got camera feeds... /AI/for half a century at least. Alien Face... the vulcan mind-meld with the TAO maschine with the proper serious steroid biodoping program. The stuff Jordan Peterson won't talk about without a meeting with the men in [GREY PASSPORT]... MENWHILE@HEATHROWAIRPORT.HOHOHOHO... #BBC.SPORT You go above a certain level and you know who’s watching you via CCTV AND WHY… [.. ? U KNOW ||”Ai”? || SKNYET]
Wake up in the morning… it’s not just dodgy makeup! Tattooed eyebrows? Oh I’ve seen that before. I knew one other woman who had that, and I got to know her very well. She was hardcore KGB mata hari squad from the ‘50s. Lilia she was called. Sharp was her adopted surname. Visas to Russia… Visas to Russia. Her house was like the jade silver and white green 80s siberian chintz Gingerbread house of of the Brothers Grimm, and I used to do various cat burglar break-and-entry games, and swap vast piles of cheap horror pulp novels with her daughter Isobel, who was like Peppermint Patty to my Snoopy/Woodchuck, as our superhero synergy was highly domesticised. Lilia I avoided, she was mostly creepy and beckoning with over-sweet drinks, oddly offered. I said no whizzing by on various sorts of high speed wheels, or carryin piles of things.
Izzy knew my reading speed was unbarred / a novel in a day is a snack for the likes of me - but she takes months to weeks to do a pile.
When Lilia died, Izzy lost the lot, her house got repossessed by the Capital Gains and inflation thing. I took one thing from the household, a rare thing from her mother. The turkish belly dancing bells, which went with the eyebrow tattoos. I had those memorialised belly dancing bells from the old days hanging on the butt of my guitar strap for many years, suspended from a big silver solid bar and chain, wrapped onto the extra weighted down stuff that I put on the rear to prop the head upwards on neck heavy instruments. The ballast of champions was those bells, they added something special, and I kept themwith a. pice of the belgrade rabbit fur from Lee’s Grandmother on it, on the strap for decades, until it went the way of strap apparatus and lacy stuff in the real world. It might be in a box somewhere. Somebody still has they? Possibly. They were good bells, nice brass tone. Constantinople. Bosphorus... the best bronzes of the old world. The antimony. The Arsenic… the mercury. The gold…
Her daughter Izzy was my mate. I was her “naughty but nicer” boy next door. She grew tits and raced ahead with her senior rudegirl mentors. I took a lot longer to get made into an adult. Still a project, and restorig childhood is the mission.
Izzy was dancing in a cage at Bagleys from the age of 12, high on E. Peak “happy hardcore” AND LOTS OF METH PLUS E / later… she’s gone more sensible, and we’re all Kool FM crew. We go haRD in london.
Welcome to the gutterside of the KBRIDGE#ELITE