If you are filled with hate and hell bound, you will know when your time is nearly up. The demons who take you to eternity will start to enter your sleep. Was it worth it? No. You can’t take the money with you, can’t guide your loved ones in this dangerous world, or watch over them. You won’t even be able to see what you’ve worked so hard to achieve, it is all for not. A good reference point is the movie Drag Me To Hell, where she chooses money over helping a woman keep her home and couldn’t escape her fate. Look around, have you not seen the bigger picture in humanity, that justice and karma through social movements and more are killing the ways of old? That things beyond what some thought possible are occurring? Did you not wonder why? And where do your values align? Where you align is where you will fall, as I’ve said before and I will say no more. Via: The Fairy Art Mother
True Blood is one of those series I love to death, but can only watch once. Honestly I can’t live through that drama again, it’s heart attack inducing. The villains were plentiful, so my friends and I would play this game, which evil bitch would you be? I would always get Maryann the maenad, because of the epic parties she threw. At first I was like what…you guys associate me with madness and Dionysus type bacchanals? It’s truer than true, not being able to exercise my demons for so long is driving me mad. I need one full epic night of partying, maybe a day from brunch til brunch. My mood is the demon on the right, what’s yours? Why? Which True Blood villain would you be? Via: Ley N Relax
“You’re that conspiracy theorist that nobody believes, but you’re always right.”-Rakim
Demons, ghosts, the soul within your flesh chamber, you name it I see it, or have seen it.
As I grow older all these ancient proverbs ring truer than true. The eyes really are the windows to the soul. At first it started off as clairsentience, the ability to feel clearly. Energies, other peoples emotions, beguiling objects; walking down the street I could look at the 15th floor of a building and know it was haunted. That whatever resided in there was looking down at me, sensing my acknowledgment. Male, female, century, attire, all things I could pick up. I’d never seen anything when I was younger, with the exception of my grandmother’s house at nine.
Red numbers beamed from the small radio alarm clock, alerting me that it was precisely 2:38am. How bizarre, I never wake up from deep sleeps, was my first thought. The air was stiff and eerie, all the lights out, creating different hues of darkness, the only way objects stood out in the landscape. Separating our room from the living room, where my grandmother slept on her pull out couch, leaving the bedroom to us, were these wooden venetian doors. They were kept open so the industrial fan could rotate air between us. There it was. At first I thought I was seeing things. But this figure was shorter than the fan and it’s eyes beamed red like the clock. He was wearing a hat, with a shirt the shape of a Hawaiian button down, it had shorts on and a grin that was somehow contained and exceeded the oval shape of his face. But it was the arms. Longer than it’s body, the arms curled up behind him swinging back and forth, never touching the floor. This being was not human. Scared to death I nudge my sister Whitney and cousin Breon silently awake, was the apparition real? None of us said a word, but we all saw it, we stared at it as it stared at us grinning insidiously. We were entranced for a good ten minutes. Afraid it would come closer, we wrapped the blankets over our heads, leaving only space for our noses to peek out. I found out that this demon was called the Short Man, often accompanied by the Tall Man. Shadow people. Years later my sister described them both, as she saw the Tall man too that night.
Twenty five was a turning point, my abilities magnified and I couldn’t control them. I started to see things, I mean really, really see them. I was terrified living in a haunted apartment in west Harlem, 3am on the dot and the whole place would come alive. I found myself unable to move with an animal growling in my ear, I’ve waken up with three doctor like figures looking down at me as if they were operating, I’ve heard my name called down the hallway. One day I told my roommates and they’d experienced some of the same things too. However no one saw anything like me. This is why I went to the psychic to know what I was. My estranged father is Haitian and openly practices voodoo. These capabilities are in my blood. The psychic taught me how to meditate, creating a barrier between myself and unwanted entities.
It bogles my mind, the humans myopic minded enough to believe we’re the only beings inhabiting this universe. Animals can pick up ranges of sensory information unbeknownst to us, a dog whistles frequency exceeds our scope. A born seer, I never had a choice, this gift to see souls, to pass spirits along to the other side (which I’ve done for friends and those who come to me), premonitions…it was passed down to me. So when I warn others about someone’s true intentions, or a nefarious being I only need say it once. I have a proven record. Heed my advice, or learn the hard way, either way it comes to pass. Photo: Elle Gramm