– Prelude – One Beginning –

To see someone loving is to see someone crying,
To see someone living, is to see someone dying..

Like corpses of the undead they trot.
Their sticky legs ripping up their roots.
To any other… they’re lost.
But like you and me…
It’s for lust!

Care for dress, but never to impress.
choking in chortles over their own mess, you can see that they know what’s best.
So in rhythmic waves, the basement hallows,
and the deeper we go, into the hollows.

We drip and we shine,
Smelling everything but divine.
Skin, without blood to bone, scars don’t set us alone.

Like teeth, our glasses chatter, velvet poison traded every time.
Unspoken we bond, and this…
Is how we manage to keep ourselves alive!

Straight and thin, hair to a trim, her hand always with a whim
…the dance follows
Although cracked and wounded, lead a mind strong with reinforcement
…of an incessant test of worry,
Afraid to be left a stray.

…But to the Wallflower, this was her.




Through the star’s gaze, amongst the pages of time,
underneath the shimmer of the night sky as the mountains grow,
the valley beats its pulse.

Amid strong winds in the forests of Shambhala, trees roar a whisper
 as the river weeps. These woods never sleep.

then embedded deep within
those wicked woods, lay

       sickest house.


A place filled with treasured shelves and earnt love,
as we unfold the secrets to ourselves
as the haunt of their festives licks your ears, spinning glass, drumming keys, creating supernova drops of bubbles & pops.

You travel your look across the mangled walls.
A folk and his grin pierce the room
with hat as pointed as his chin,
his fringe as thick as thieves,
glimpsing a daunting owl’s eye,
collecting all trouble it seeked.
he trickles his chin.

A magnificent wallflower…

but why? …there must be more.

The events of Sickest House have been a wonderful twist of mayhem and soulful connections.

People finding themselves in a place to purge and further solidify friendships with their own natures and the others within the walls of the House.

We strive off the stories that are retold. The immense characteristics that come back to us about how much these nights have meant to our family. The art that has been created through the soundscapes of our DJ’s and Producers, the installations, pieces and stages from all our painters, builders and craftsman. Then even the ruckus and conversation caused between our patrons are all contrivers to this House we build. A wicked & twisted story full of influence and imagination, creates an adventure through a walkthrough of the most impeccable antics more than a mind can produce. A Sick vision injects into the minds of the enters. A walk through the halls of Sickest House.


– Chapter 2 – Another Beginning –

*clang**clang* *clang**clang*
Time to wake up.

Leave my wonderland and jump back into being a pawn to a society clouded with stupid patrionism towards something they’ve never even witnessed. A place filled with hypocritical bigots, convincing themselves that they’re happy being influenced by the most ridiculous bullshit anyone can muster. It’s not even a real world out here. It’s just a collective of stories built upon each other. People getting stabbed in the back and they hold their tears as they grin from ear to ear.

“I must be happy, life will always treat me fair.”

Well i’m fucking sick of it. But don’t get me wrong.. I’m happy with who i am, i just can’t stand being around people who pretend they are when you know their life is built up on lies they’ve created themselves, and then others who let their lives be created by the lies of others. And that’s pretty much this whole fucking town..

Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies.
It’s ruining lives.

Well, good on ’em, you can only hope that one day things will change. I mean nothing lasts forever anyway.
And this has lasted a VERY long ass fucking time.

The end is nigh!

I can feel it on my fingertips.

My dark, cold fingertips.

But alright, let’s get this day going.

Got to make this sculpture I live in beautiful, so the world can trust the influence I have for the rat race.
Well that’s not too bad.
I like being beautiful.

Pick shoes, pick shirt, pick hat. How about that?