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Wyqued,

joined on 04/03/07
last updated 02/18/08
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What's Playing In Wyqued's Head

Emilie is singing to Poe's Haunted Album...

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How to Contact Wyqued

There are a couple ways you can contact me...
As you can see from my Blog activity, I am on Tribe frequently, so you can message me here.
Sunday-Thursday 6am-3pm I am on Yahoo! Messenger
ScreenName: something_wyqued
I am also reachable in email by the same screen name @yahoo.com
I'm always up for chatting, so hollar at me and I may just poke you back!

-Emilie

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Asylum Inhabitant 43215

Name: Ooghna. Detail: Hyperactive 70lb Terrier
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Escapes From Within The Asylum

*****
"The Best I have Seen In A Long LONG Time."
*****
***oo
"Currently Reading"
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The Lies People Spread

April 17, 2008
Well, well. It seems I've got to hold my own against you because you have quite the forked tongue. Alright, well.... What can I say about Wyqued? Well I cou-

*Spontaneously combusts!*



-DED-
September 2, 2007
Miss Emilie the Wyqued (yes, I am re-title-ing you) has truly been an entity to behold in the short time I have known her. And that is definately a good thing. If the Universe is willing, I will hopefully soon live nearer her, and we and her band of revelers will dance in the moonlight and slosh wine on all the onlookers! A truly magickal person to know.
June 29, 2007
Being Wyqued’s roommate I can say without a doubt she is not only daft, but flat crazy. Oh, I’m sure it’s in a good way. But we all know the truth. When visiting The Asylum for the Debauched and Perverse will be corrupt you! Or should I say she will corrupt you. You have no choice but to come to the dark side. I heard they have more cookies and they do! But I don’t have the money to buy them. *Cry*
We car pool to the same side of town and she beats on me while I drive. Oh, yea I try to defend myself. We all know how well that works when she is licking you! I’m damaged, so damaged.. *Weeping* She gives these evil glares that give you chills. Its even funnier when she does it to some poor biker. That poor man bounced off three cars before coming to a full stop. Now all the bikers avoid her evil glare. Over all it’s a lot of fun getting home from work. Oh, she’s coming! You should run. Run like you never ran before! I need to go hide.
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Escapes from the Asylum

Dementia (events » nightlife) Friday, November 2, 2007 - 9:00 PM New Dementia Grand Opening at the Mt.Tabor Legacy Lounge, 4811 SE Hawthorne PDX -- Every Friday (Starting in November), 9pm to 3am, ages 21 and up. The new Dementia, newly remodeled, bigger dancefloor, 30ft ceilings, video projection and dark, dark music.
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Before You Friend Me, Read This

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Emilie Wyqued's Quote

"Little girl screams, dolls with ripped seams, and broken down dreams, that is what wyqued girls are made of..."

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Asylum Inhabitant 669

Name: Emilie. Detail: Wayward child; sings to the voices in her head
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Wyqued's Case File

Gender
Female
Age
26
Location
about me
Emilie, or Miss Wyqued, as she prefers to be called in our sessions, has moments of complete narcissistic, egomaniacal vanity. She holds herself far superior to many of the tortured souls at this Asylum.
She is an odd case. If you were to take some eccentricity, a dash of capriciousness, and blend it all with a good amount of madness, you might get a close description of her character. She has an unnatural obsession with burlesque and vaudeville. When given clothing of her own design, what she comes up with can only be described as a sort of dark, punk cabaret infused with high Victorian elegance, accentuated by gothic Lolita styles, which is then run through the gutters of late 19th Century England.
Emilie Wyqued has a morbid fascination with sexual innuendo. She has one of the dirtiest minds within the Asylum, which she often calls the Gutter House. Apparently, this fascination is contagious, for anyone entering the premises seems to be overtaken by the need to take absolutely everything in the naughtiest way possible. She corrupts the other inhabitants of the institution with her overly sexual nature, and doesn't have the decency to become embarrassed when such is pointed out to her.
She is an extremely poisonous personality. Her poetry is laced with dark ribbons, her violin rosined with arsenic, and her voice is infused with cyanide. She will only play with people who cannot read music, feeding her superior tendencies. She holds tea "courts" with her "Tarts" (other morally depraved women of whom she has corrupted), to which she claims to be their Queen, and does not discourage them from calling her such. She bathes with corsets on and wears only mismatched, stripped stockings.
Emilie could possibly have a shattered reality, or a slight multiple personality disorder. She takes this Queen of Tarts a little too far, and in our sessions Emilie has expressed that the Queen is a separate entity who has come to protect and defend her virtue. The Queen is as debaucherous as she is lovely, and she dines on the hearts of the men she broke for breakfast. Emilie claims that she is her first impression, used to stay all those who would shatter an already broken heart, however, I can see some of the kindness and sweetness behind the corrupt mask...if only she would let that shine through.
I can only deem that this poor, wicked girl is indeed a lost cause...
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The "reality" side of the looking glass

I am 25, a first year graphic design student, and a second year computer sciences student. This is my second round in college, my first proved unproductive, unless you count so many history and literature classes they may as well give me a masters. I have way too many projects, way too many pets, and way too much imagination. I don't often finish things I start. My house is a complete mess if I don't make a conscious effort to keep it under control. I am artistic in any way I choose to be (writing, fine art, graphic, music, theatre, etc.). I have a good group of "real life" friends who make fun of me often; it keeps me level headed. I read constantly (although, most recently it's been programming books). My alcoholic drink of choice is vodka mixed with anything yummy; I throw up at the smell of tequila. I love broccoli. I spontaneously become vegetarian at random points of the year. I don't know what I want in life, but I know it's something huge. I have a very chaotic energy, and I never, EVER, take myself seriously.

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To All Those Who Would Claim Her Heart

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The Rantings of a Raving Mind

Once there was a girl who gave her heart to the moon.

What am I to do -
When there's so much I want to say,
To think,
To sing,
But all the words,
The thoughts
Get caught in my throat
So I've nothing I can say to you?

I apologize if I have kept to the shadows,
Or turned from your gaze
When you’ve wanted it most,
But I did not wish the sun
To give away my glittering eyes
And show the tears unshed
When you do the sweet things...
The things that make the ice melt
Even a littl... read more
Fri, May 16, 2008 - 1:20 AM permalink - 0 comments
 
Do not call me writer...
As though it's something I should be proud of.
These words are not some result of passion.
There's no love for this particular art form.
They exists only because they won't leave my head...
Keeping me up at all hours of the night...
Making my brain overstuffed...
If not down on paper they're left to breed and smother me due to their mass.
Words put down on paper so I don't end up drowning.
So call me not a writer,
As though I have some choice.
Sat, April 19, 2008 - 2:27 AM permalink - 0 comments
 
She stepped into my office, an obvious state of distress and woe. Her eyes met mine for a moment before they cast back down. Her hands were wringing as she took the seat in front of my desk. With an anguishing sigh, she finally looked at me for longer than a moment.
"There seems to be something wrong with me," she whispered.
I furrowed my brow, and responded, "What seems to be troubling you..."
She looked a way for a moment in thought, and said, "I'm not entirely sure, that is why I am her... read more
Fri, April 18, 2008 - 8:15 PM permalink - 6 comments
 
Make Lemonade. That's what my grandmother always told me. She's probably the biggest reason I am as optimistic a person as I am. Sure, I have dark gothy tendencies, but when things get really bad, I always have a way of turning it around.
My lemon? I was fired yesterday from Yahoo!, a company I loved, adored, revered for the last 3 years. It was because I was too outspoken, and wouldn't fall into line. See, I got a new manager two months ago, and instead of going along with the proposed chan... read more
Tue, February 26, 2008 - 4:24 PM permalink - 2 comments
 
Someday....you'll come back.

I watch as you live your life day to day, running though the same drudge day in and day out. You have no more passion in life, not like you used to. Once, there was such a fire that could not be contained, and I sang as you poured it into me, caressing me, loving me as no other could. I was warmed by your touch, by your love. The heat riveled the jealous sun in its sky, and all the stars swooned.
And then things changed. You left me here, unable to do anything... read more
Wed, February 6, 2008 - 2:53 PM permalink - 0 comments
 
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Morbid Wonderland : Down the Rabbit Hole

A small girl ran across the stones that peaked above the level of the river rushing onward to who knows where. She would often sit by the river on summer days, wondering where it ran to, and where it stopped, in some magical faery-land, filled with what dreams are made of. But not today, today was for better things.
Her little legs carried her across the river, up the slope of the bank, and across the field where the wildflowers now wilted; it was a week before school started - she would be in the 6th grade - and already Alice had ruined her new school shoes and one of the new dresses her mother had bought her. It had come from tripping into the water or falling as she fell, leaving grass stains on her dress and stockings. Alice ran further, to the edge of the woods and stopped. She had never been this far before, and she looked back over her shoulder as if waiting for some approval. It came in the form of a small black kitten with a purple collar around it's neck; as the kitten ran to meet her mistress the little silver tag that read Dina jingled, signaling her presence.
"So, what do you think Dina, shall we go on further?" Alice picked up the kitten, which blended in with Alice's black hair. Dina crawled up onto Alice's shoulder and burrowed into the nap of her neck, getting tangled in the black tresses before Alice was able to put her down, now having to put up a great struggle to get the kitten to let go. But Dina did, as she always does, and though reluctant to be set down upon the ground again, gave a reassuring squeak, which was all Alice needed to proceed into the forest.
It was much darker in the forest, the sunlight suffocated by the twists and crooks of the trees that reached well beyond what Alice could see. Everything seemed much more treacherous in the woods, glowing eyes appearing from under moss covered logs, trees reaching out to snag her burgundy dress or trip her unsure footing, even the sounds, muffled and sinister. Alice had gone a good way into the forest, easing her nerves, but she came to a point, and she stopped. Nothing had happened, nothing had frightened her, but a little voice whispered to her - You shouldn't be here. Alice stood still for a moment, taking in surroundings, trying to judge where she was. All it took was a snap of a stick to her right to set her screaming, running off into an unknown direction. When she had finally stopped, she didn't know which way she had gone, or which way was out, and Dina was no where to be found. Alice called out to her, but she couldn't even hear the jingle of Dina's collar.
Another snap was heard behind Alice, and quickly she whipped around, and was confronted by something black and furry in her face. For a moment her heart skipped a beat, Dina, but it all together stopped once Alice was able to focus on what was so close to her. Not her precious Dina, but a large black rabbit, standing on two legs, with a black top hat, a monocle and a small pinstripe waistcoat complete with black gloves. He seemed just as suprised to see her.
"I'm late," he said, taking a watch from his waistcoat pocket. He opened it, and as he looked at the time his ears twitched in dissatisfaction. "I'm late," he said again, bounding off.
It took the barest of moments for Alice to surpass her confusion and run after the rabbit - he may know the way out. The rabbit was quite fast, and it was all Alice could do to keep up with him, her little legs running as fast as they could. "Mr. Rabbit, Mr. Rabbit, please wait. Do you know the way out of the forest?" Alice called behind him. The rabbit in the top hat never responded to her questions, and the further they went the more questions and requests Alice made. "Mr. Rabbit, please slow down." The deeper they went the darker it got, and the trees with their leafless branches reached down their skeleton hands to clutch at Alice's hair and dress. It was too late, their souls were unrestrained, free from the hands from which they grew. Noises, besides the tromping of Alice became much more eerie, and Alice grew more afraid. Just as she was about to ask the rabbit another question, he disappeared. Alice stopped in her tracks, looking this way and that, trying to find where he went. Whispers from the dark frightened her, their voices though soft, echoed deep within the woods, calling her, drawing her.
Then, Alice was falling, falling into darkness, almost a sickly weightlessness.
Suddenly, cold and wet hit Alice's body. Black water filled her mouth and lungs and she struggled for breath, kicking her legs furiously trying to break surface. Her chest hurt, and her eyes stung as her body wretched, wanting to draw in air that wasn't there, and it took everything for Alice to keep her mouth closed and her nose plugged least she take in more black water that weighed down her hair and her dress. Just when she could bare it no longer, when she finally gave up and opened up her mouth to get the water in, her head broke the surface and she sucked in the rank air. The air forcing itself into her lungs hurt so badly she cried out. Alice just float there for a while, letting the water wash over her body. She didn't care anymore, she just let everything happen. After a few moments her head hit something hard, and the pain knocked her back to reality. She twisted in the water and saw an edge. Numb fingers did their best to grab at the concrete, but it took several tries before Alice could maneuver her cold fingers to grasp the edge and pull herself onto the concrete. She lay there for a moment, relishing in the wonder of staying still, of not moving.
It was the flicker of the florescent lights that caught her attention. Up overhead she could see a long row of the blinding lights lined down a hall. She turned over onto her stomach and pushed herself up onto her knees. What met her gaze…Alice had never seen anything like it. A never-ending, white hallway. Overhead were the florescent, shorting now and then. Lining the hallway walls were thousands upon thousands of doors with little windows into them near the top. The doors were locked by wrought iron gates bolted in front of them, as though the horrors behind the doors needed something besides a mere door holding them in their separate hells.
Alice shakily got to her feet. Her paten vinyl shoes wrapped upon the concrete floor, the only sound that met her ears. She stood on tiptoes to try and look in the windows on the doors, her little hands grasping the cold iron for leverage; she was too short. It was just as well.
It was a long time before Alice was met with something new. The hallway continued on, but all of a sudden, it also branched off the sides, giving her three options to choose from. She looked down each of them, but they just looked the same. On a whim, Alice decided to turn left and she proceeded down the hallway of ever flickering lights. After a few more turns, she came to a dead end, but at the dead end one of the gates was flung open, and the door was ajar. Tentatively, she walked closer, and peaked in through the crack of the door. It was another hallway, leading to a much smaller door. Alice saw the black rabbit in the pinstripe waistcoat down at the very end. He opened the door.
"Mr. Rabbit!" Alice croaked as she flung the door open and ran towards the rabbit's fleeting figure. "Mr. Rabbit, please wait! Please, help me, I don't know how to get out."
The rabbit turned and seemed to note her for a moment, then turned back and shut the door behind his tail with a click. Alice reached the door and saw it was actually very small and the hallway she thought she was in was just a room. She wouldn't even be able to fit her head through the door, how did the rabbit get through? She tried to open it and found it was locked. Defeated she rested her back against the wall, slid down, and with her head on her knees she cried. She didn't notice the glass table that appeared out of nowhere for quite some time.

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WIP

Because maybe if I keep on writing down
These words and these lines
They'll no longer poison my perception
And I can stop imortalizing what you did to me

 
members » Wyqued, link to this profile: http://people.tribe.net/somethingwyqued