simply amazing and mesmerized you're amazing 👏 ❤

Alarm screams, I barely wake, Coffee spills, another mistake. Kids dropped off like little packs, No time to play, no time to relax.
Phones in hands, scrolling fast, Checking the feeds, can’t make it last. Makeup in mirrors of moving cars, Traffic crawling under neon stars.
 Mad morning, spinning out of control, Rushing, running, everyone on patrol. Wake, eat, dress, no time to kiss, Living in a world that forgot morning bliss.
 Crowds at the train, pressed like steel, Bodies moving, but no one feels. Emails, alerts, notifications beep, The city’s awake, but we barely sleep.
Mirror selfies in the rearview glass, Lipstick on, eyes on TikTok’s fast pass. Coffee in hand, we swipe, we scroll, Living like robots, losing our soul.
Instagram stories show perfect lives, While we run, stressed, in early drives. Emails ping, notifications beep, The city’s awake while we barely sleep.
Phones light up, notifications demand, We follow the rhythm, can’t break from the plan. Time is the master, we are the drones, Living in loops, built from calendars and phones.
Motorcycles weave, people push and shove, City beats fast, no time for love. Coffee spills, bags slip from hands, Mad morning chaos rules the lands.
Phones in laps, eyes on the screen, Rushing like robots through the asphalt machine. Every street a maze, every light a test, Traffic won’t stop, no time to rest.
Packed like sardines, the train roars on, Heads down, glowing screens from dusk till dawn. No eyes meet, no words are shared, Everyone’s scrolling, nobody cared.
 Rushing, scrolling, trapped in time — Mad morning owns our minds.
 

Mad  morning

I Can Write Some Stories

Tranquility base

phobia

Oh

Oh Whoa

No no no no 

It was never my intention
To give you an erection


It was never my intention
To give you an erection


It was never my intention
To give you an erection


It was never my intention
To give you an erection

Never

Never 

Never

Put your pants back on


It was never my intention
To give you an erection


It was never my intention
To give you an erection


It was never my intention
To give you an erection

I'm so disgusted that you thought that

Fucking gross


It was never my intention
To give you an erection


It was never my intention
To give you an erection



It was never my intention
To give you an erection

When you grab the tissues
To avoid having to clean your mess
Do you ever wonder
How stupid you look
If you saw yourself on video
Would you be humiliated 

Should you?


It was never my intention
To give you an erection



It was never my intention
To give you an erection


It was never my intention
To give you an erection

Aren't humans gross

And predictable 

I mean

Honestly

Have you not thought of your dick at all
While listening to this?

What about now?

Like I said


It was never my intention
To give you an erection


It was never my intention
To give you an erection


It was never my intention
To give you an erection

And if you have one 

What the fuck is wrong with you anyway?

Take a moment 

To stop 

And ask yourself 

Worm

Never My Intention

/
One More Plague

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9 Track EP
Compelled To Do - So Be It
https://soundcloud.com/fictionalive/sets/compelled-to-do-so-be-it
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One More Plague

Light from the Skinny Moon - Techno/Piano

ANGELS BEHIND THE SCENES

Night Ride – Shadows and Stars
Night unfolds its vast cathedral of stars. Between shadow and light, the rider moves in silence, guided by constellations.

Headlights cut through endless night,
Shadows dance in silver light.
The road’s a river, dark and deep,
Where stars awaken, dreams don’t sleep.

Silence hums, the night’s alive,
Every breath keeps the spirit to drive.

Night ride — through shadows and stars,
Carried by echoes of who we are.
Night ride — no distance too far,
The sky’s our temple, the road our guitar.

The moon is singing, soft and clear,
Whispers guide what we hold dear.
Every mile’s a verse in time,
Every wheel a sacred rhyme.

Between the darkness, between the flame,
The stars remember every name.

Night ride — through shadows and stars,
Carried by echoes of who we are.
Night ride — no distance too far,
The sky’s our temple, the road our guitar.

Through the silence, through the scars,
We are forever shadows and stars.

Night Ride – Shadows and Stars

This moody minimal techno piece features spacious, abstract textures built from pulsing bass and crisp percussive layers, setting a hypnotic undercurrent, Occasional female vocals drift in with ethereal phrases, processed for a spectral glow, The harmony draws heavily on the Lydian mode, lending a mystical quality, For the Japanese touch, sparse koto samples and subtle pentatonic melodic motifs appear before the hard drops—booming yet restrained kick and digital stabs evoke a mythical rave atmosphere, The atmosphere is meditative yet kinetic, balancing restraint with waves of electrifying intensity

Koto Caeci Nippon

Tertia chorda Koto

Goodbye, My Heavy Chain

Welcome to The Fermentation Cycle – a 1940s industrial-noir duology told as a slow-burn audio experience.

Every day I drop a new chapter with its own lofi score running through a crackling 1940s radio: low drums, hiss, distant horns, machinery in the walls. You’re not just reading a book – you’re inside a failing dockside brewery, listening to the pipes, the ledgers, and the rats under the floor.

Book I follows The Violet Boar, a once-powerful brewery in a corrupt coastal city, held together by heat, debt, queer love, and bad decisions. It’s adult, cerebral, immersive: pressure, politics, undercity tunnels, rat “choirs,” and a city that launders violence into paperwork.

Start at the Prologue and move forward a chapter a day, or let the playlist run like a haunted late-night radio station.

🔧 Tone: harsh 1940s noir, queer, anti-capitalist, psychological, slow escalation
🎧 Sound: lofi, tape-hiss, radio crackle, industrial ambience
📚 Project: The Fermentation Cycle Duology – The Violet Boar & Rats

The Fermentation Cycle is an adult industrial-noir duology set in 1940s Brineford, where Dockstring Ward runs on steam, rumor, and the kind of “civic” language that ruins people with clean hands.
At its center squats the Violet Boar Brewery, a once-proud Kiln now being slurred as a Loom, sweating heat and debt into the street like a confession.
Elara Wexley inherits the place and its failures, walking under a city that keeps score even when it pretends it doesn’t.
Every pipe, ledger mark, and shipment becomes leverage in a quiet war between rival breweries, supply yards, and the polite enforcers who call it regulation.
The Ward itself is a chorus — bars, docks, backrooms, and watchers — deciding what the Boar is worth, and what Elara is allowed to be.
Below the surface, the undercity’s layered infrastructure and rat-choir ecology mirror the city’s neglect: history stacked like rot you can’t fully scrub.
The story turns pressure into plot: money, heat, reputation, and intimacy all pushing until something breaks and the break changes the map.
It’s harsh, cinematic, and funny in the dark, obsessed with inheritance, survival, and the cost of naming what’s really happening.

I Can Write Some Stories

Raquel Fischer

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