I no longer know what the goal of the site is, I write horror fiction, and love letters to myself.
This site is a tool to facilitate the act of seeing clearly, written by hands that used to hurt myself.
I have paranoid schizophrenia, narcissistic personality disorder, bipolar II-manic/depressive- rapid cycling, depression, anxiety, hydrocepholus, narcissistic personality disorder suffering from alcoholism, drug addiction, alcoholic. with OCD and PTSD- was addicted to heroin, meth, crack, alcohol, cocaine, prescription pills.
I am drug addict/alcoholic/dual diagnosis/ex-homeless person.
Characters thus far
Joy
Diane
Damien de Soto
Rei Clearly
POV EXPERIMENTAL ALLEGORICAL POETIC METAPHOR FICTION
First person
Blog post style
Dark horror fiction
Through dark horror fiction I rake the muck of the lives of street addicts.
Or in plain English this is an epic poem/novel about addiction told about low bottom addicts in horror style.
I just made myself laugh for five seconds, that is most of the reason for this post.
I don’t know why we think the world is going to fall apart continuously.
I think it is because it was falling apart for so long.
Good point, but it isn’t anymore right?
It feels like it is still, so is it or is it not?
It isn’t, it just feels like it. Did you ever think it was slightly strange to worry about punctuation while doing this to yourself?
No.
I am fear, I am regret, I am worry, I am stained with past remorse, I am forward course through wonder, that can send you under. I am stained with wondering what could have happened if, I am an ocean of if.
I am what now, without going down.
Waters are around me, because I am in an ocean, or in the air, it matters not where I am, just that I am, where is irrelevant, I am in waters or air, surrounded by being, the act of being swimming in air or waters, in forward motion, keeping my head above, trying to not drown in worry, trying to not be the act of looking down into all-consuming depression, over what if I had done something else, I am the what now of looking forward, and not being consumed by the idea of you are doomed.
The idea of regret, the idea of fret, is a pattern, that encircles us that good at drain rotation, the whirlpool sensation, that can be so comforting, I am trying to swim out, but sometimes remain in the circle of look down.
Self-burn, ouch, got yourself.
It is you I am talking to. I said half.
There is no such thing, we are the same human, we just talk to each other, with the same hands.
Ouch.
You are the maiden, of a sunny day, the woman with a face of the sun, from which I couldn’t stay away, with eyes so bright painted with brightness imbued in your entire form, casting out of your skin, as if the sun was crying over the seperation between it and you, inherent it was in everything you did, everything you do, oh to be one with you, but I am just a person on land, and your brightness, I cannot stand, being one of a damned mind, that is unkind, and so very unlike you, everything you do, being filled with such bright light, almost seeming, like it came from the eyes of something much higher than I have ever seen.
Renee, Renee, Renee, for you, I am blind, for you I cannot see clearly, for you I sound like a madman, ranting about nothing at all.
Renee, Renee, Renee, what more can I say?
I am fine, why?
You haven’t talked to me all day, that’s why.
I know, I was insulted by the universe earlier.
The universe insulted you? That sounds pretty narcissistic.
The universe thought so too.
Her hair smelled like lilacs, and her kiss tasted like mint, her skin smelled slightly like cinnamon. She was an artist, a painter, and scenes she’d depict far away lands with suns fading quick, she was a master of sunset and lover of night, hater of fear, and haver of fright, she hated the morning, and too hated day, so during that time, I would sure stay away, not sure what she did, or sure where she’d go, I miss her so…
Her name was Tammy, thought she was a mirage, she was very relaxing to be around, her art, the massage, her eyes were pretty, her boyfriend was an ***, her name was Tammy, I taught her to relax.
We sat for hours, and she finally spoke truth, her boyfriend a cheater, with some girl named Ruth, she was unhappy, she told me the whole story, now her poor boyfriend is sore and alone, alone, alone, so sad, too bad, poor ******* got dumped over the phone.
She came at sunrise, she came with light’s dance, she came at sunrise, and stole my friends pants, they were laid out, on her bed, we did not know, she came at sunrise, in her house we did not know,
It belonged to her. She was kind and forgiving, forgave our unexpected visit, when she came we thought,
“Well, this is it,”
She told us it was okay, that we broke into her house, when all I was thinking, was
Well, this sure went south…
She made us breakfast, and touched my face, it was covered with dust and dirt, which a bath could erase.
She was on a vacation, an act I don’t know, she gave us shelter, from the rain and the cold.
That’s really corney.
I know, but I have that 70’s song in my head.
Me too.
I know that already. I feel better after sleeping, how about you?
Yes.
You are a jerk.
So are you.
You are extremely obnoxious.
I love you, too.
Like I said, annoying.
How was your day?
You mean our day, don’t know, you were there too, right?
Ouch, I am in pain too you know, you just are the one complaining.
Facts.
Roll the die, I will bet we get a better roll, we the one with two souls, make it good, make it quick, maybe this time, the idea will stick, that we are one, but we are two, and we get one roll, not four or two.
I am standing blaming you, blaming them, blaming something higher, blaming something below me on fire, blaming circumstance, blaming the wind, maybe one day I will begin to win, but not today, snake eyes now, maybe I should just stop staring down, get my **** eyes off the ground.
The bridge over Hell, is frequented by many who live to tell, they come often, and stare down, and do not smile, and do not frown, the simply stare at the ground, and make sure always to keep eyes to ground, never looking up nor to the side, but deep inside their own souls, because inside burn holes, which hurt and ache, and are the reason they stare down, and do not smile, and not frown, but only meditate on death, and think about the lives they left, and it is Hell that preformed the theft.
I am frequented by all those lost, who ignore the idea of cost, for the sensation of toss, of hurling, and of whirling down, and love the sensation of pound and down.
I am sought by those who pretend and defend the act of loss of soul and act of bend and defend.
Look not at me, but at yourself, I am just defense of myself.
Did you lose your focus, baby?
Yes, I did because I am ****ing insane.
I am your brain on… resentment, just like drugs, but not very ****ing fun, but, oh so entertaining aren’t I?
No, you are just a lunatic talking to yourself.
You are so very negative.
You are the one talking to yourself, ***hole.
I love having your voice in my head.
It is my head.
No, it is our head.
No, it is Amanda’s and my head. You are a visitor, who they say is unwelcome, you just come to talk to me, because we are such good friends, and since we don’t want drugs anymore, you are no longer useful resentment.
Ouch.
I am getting good at this, baby. You can leave now.
I find it so fascinating, and positively delightful, to rip out your color and tell my story, it is such a relief for you to be so unreal, you and all that you are, that makes it so hard to feel. I am so happy, so at peace with you, just an image of attack, and all that you are one, who likes to take back, and to shove forward, and put on me everything, as long as it is negative.
I am the bad guy in every story you told, I am the villian in all tales young and old, color me that way, make me large, and you small, color me clearly, till I am not there at all.
Hot air balloon that flies over HELL, below are those who do not even notice, beyond anything that spells their pain and suffering, they cannot see, they are slaves to their sweet misery, they live in resentment, and cannot look up, this is the state in which they are stuck.
In the muck and the mire, they worship fire, which belongs so sweetly, to their own pain, their lack of restraint, so when something flies over, that can save them from themselves, they are not watchful, looking only
AHEAD AND
DOWN
DOWN
DOWN
My soul burns for you baby, you make me so ****ing happy.
What is the legacy you want to leave behind?
Color me kind, color me quick, bring back my colors, make my colors stick.
Meditate on kindness, not on the dark, brick back the sunshine,
Do not rip out your own heart.
Speak kindly of gladness, bring out bright ways, learn from my sadness, and my wayward way.
I strive for attention, because I am arrogant, and self involved, I am not trying to do this, it is not my resolved mission, I am just used to being ignored, so I do this because I am alone, and to be self assured, if there is nothing else from me to be learned, please take my sadness, and so in life turn, away from what I did, because for you I want, everything I do not have.
I want for you everything I do not have, all that makes you glad, instead of insane, and so very sad, and mad.
I have been silent all day, because I don’t know what to say, how about you.
I got as much as you, which is nothing.
So long version of saying, ‘I got nothing!’.
Yep.
She was so sweet, she painted the shadows, she gave light to darkness, painting color into worlds of starkness. In all lack she painted color, touching hearts of trouble with waves of beauty.
She gave this to me
A flower from you, that you gave me to with love.
I gave it back, in reaction, in shove.
You were a bird, a sweet turtle dove, whom I could not accept, my heart from below not above.
A flower from gardens of heaven, was returned because I could not bring in it to the beds of those led into HELL, the place where I at the time I am meditating on did dwell, baby.
Yes, it was.
It was pure HELL, and
Flowers don’t live there, now I am leaving to, and in leaving, I am drawn to thinking of you.
She was kissed by sun, and tattooed by shade, her skin bathed in light, and graced by its going away, she was covered with mist in times of rain, never feeling human pain.
I danced with her once, under the moon, her face made me cry, her love a monsoon, the deepness of her eyes, feeling like madness, bringing out my inner sadness, like caverns to the soul, her eyes were so deep, staring into your face, baby, made me weep.
I loved her for a minute, a second, but then, I was thrown back to the shore, by the wave of defense.
I was at the end of my rope, so sad that I would choke on air, staring at the ground, fixating on the act of down.
Who are you?
How do you find peace?
What brings to the land of beneath?
He had no name, he had no place, he was like me, his life a race, a quest for food, for place to be, he now lives in a house with me.
Diane took him in, and now he lives, on a bed with Diane and her kids.
You glow, sweetheart… so much brighter than the sun.
The sun is falling, and night will come, and in the encrouching darkness, we are left, in the theft of day, and light’s cleft, you sit on a tree, looking at me.
I am wondering what there is even left to see. I am the act of dying of the idea of bee, I am the seed of hating the idea of me.
https://wordpress.com/tag/fandangos-story-starter
https://wordpress.com/tag/fandangos-story-starter
The chase is on, I am running in front, running in front of cars and running in the light of day, I am addicted to being chased by death, I am running right and left, I am playing with the idea of time theft. They are plunging towards me as I get high on the idea of roll the die.
Roll the dice, baby, color by number,
I am running towards the idea of death, I am chasing after the idea of theft of life, I am chasing the idea of dying, I am leaving the idea of trying.
Nihilism, nihilism, nihilism, I love you so,
Oh, nihilism, I will never let you go.
I am the act of rolling under, roll the die, baby, I am the act of die, die, die.
I am chaos incarnate..
Do you chase death?
In the blink of an eye, I make the woman in the passenger seat cry, she is looking at the driver’s seat cry, what are they doing…. I have no idea why?????
I am the act of dog in a human being.
How do you feel about cold weather?
Give me to those who mourn the dead, I am blood red.
I reach for the sky, and die in too much sun, I am a gift.
I am flowers of joy, dying for you, we live in the summer and die when the cold consumes, it eats my silk skin, and makes it dies, we do not breath, and reach for the sky, we do not have eyes, and we cannot cry.
We ask May for rain from the sky, we do not drown in water that falls in lack of eyes, we are red like blood and we are alive, we do not have hands, but can touch the sun’s eye.
You can pull us out of the ground to give lies to your sister while she cries.
You have been largely silent today, Amanda.
I know, because I had a hard time seeing you cry in front of people, and now I have this unsettled feeling that won’t go away. You were always the one who never cried.
I think you are feeling what it feels like for us to be one person, or the closest we have ever come to being fully our two-spirited selves.
I am glad both of us get to be part of your family.
I agree.
Have you ever broken a bone?
My wrist, my wrist, my wrist, and this….
I had three of my finger tips amputated due to heroin addiction, annd injection site infection.
I am bone loss
I am the disintegration of neglected, injected, flesh.
I am an amputation due to heroin addiction.
I am forgetting you are a being with flesh.
I am the act of ingest, things that make flesh decay, I am not heroic, and let my flesh pass away.
Make me small
Make me not there at all
I am fear of the admission of feelings
That I won’t admit to
Feelings I don’t have at all.
I am the mental breakdown of the eyes of the street, eyes that do not sleep, that see what happens when people shut there eyes, that have waited 36 years to cry about things no one ever sees, things people like to ignore, eyes that find it a chore, to live in the unsure.
I am what happens when people ignore self, and turn to others methods of dealing with life, meth-od-s of dealing with life that are keys to doors of strife, and of pain, of staining real-i-t-y with disdain, with lack of restrain, with put brain on
Hold me, please, I am you brought
KNEES, bend down please, we want you on the
GROUND, GROUNDED to a body, which is not even mine, the one I was given by the universe, but is not me, not me, clearly, so clearly not me.
I am the realization
Real in me, real eyes, seeing as a real I, that despise is not wise.
Real I, meaning real me, who is who I am, which is not who I was before, who is the fusion of two, two beings seperate and different, which is the fusion of two seperate and equal people, who are chased by the same things, for me resentment and for her the very real person who has a different name than on this site
Rei Clearly, clearly a name given as a place holder, a space holder for the idea of transition, out of a place of superstition to a place of real i zation, or real I sensation through me, with name see clearly, because it should have been so clear to me, that I am me.
How do you balance work and home life?
I balance it, by I am working on it **** it. I am working on something, though I don’t quite know what it is yet, because most of my life I have been a career drug addict and alcoholic, whose job was surviving homelessness and trying to hold onto things like apartments and jobs to not be homeless again, how did I balance that? Poorly, that is why I am clean and sober now, and because I got tired of doing bad things.
I am trying right now to re-vamp my life so I am no longer a social vampire, but instead do something good that benefits mankind. I want to use writing and art to help people understand the people whose lifes are like mine, and help those like me do something fulfilling, what does that mean? I don’t quite know yet, I think sharing my experience on here is part of it though, and letting others know there is hope for them, because if I can do it, they can too.
My hope is that my strength to keep trying will help those like me recover as well, and that maybe they will experience joy, and that I will too.
For once, in my life
Let me be what I want to be
You do not win, you are not free, you live with us, with her and me, you do not win, you are not free. There is not one there are two of us, you do not kill the both of us. You can stay, but so can we.
You have to go.
Why don’t you ask her, honey? Why don’t you, huh? She doesn’t want you.
I don’t want you, and it is my choice who leaves and who stays, it is my mind, I am not her slave. Why do you think you were the voice of resentment?
See, I am not the ****ing bad guy, for ****ing once, it is clear I am not the ****ing bad guy. Thank you.
How do you like it when I do it, mother****er??? Do you want some sweet candy?
You make me sick.
Do you want some sweet candy?
Living with you is sick.
Do you want some sweet candy?
You make me cry.
Do you want some sweet candy?
You are a poke in the eye.
I am done with you, hate everything you do, if one thing is true, it is that life with you is Hell, and I will tell you this the only way you understand, if it is the last thing I do, I will get far, far away from you.
You can’t. I live in the same house.
It is a human body, you *****.
I know, which is even better, you are stuck with me, forever.
My world lights up so brightly, with the sight of you, sparkling with wonder-filled glitter, and sparkling brightness, it colors the misty darkness, with the tones of yellow and pink of sunrise, of the end of the suffocating madness of a night that went on too long.
You are a the waves on the ocean, rippling over the sands after an intense storm, you and your beautiful face, are everything that makes it just okay enough, to stick around to see if all this is worth it, to see if there is any light in the darkness.
The warm sunlight on your skin, helps me know, remember, to look up, because the reflection of the light on you reminds me, that light exists at all.
I do not know you, but I owe you, for reminding me beauty exists, and for keeping me going, thank you.
Her face a garden of perfection, she was picturesque, with anything negative beyond my detection, she was beauty incarnate, completely divine, she was picturesque to me, but who do I know, I am half blind.
Everything about her, appeared divine, she was beauty, she was divinity, for her I would lose my mind.
Your mind is already gone, long ago, you fool, said my inner child, for this beautiful woman, my soul went slightly wild.
Slightly? Questioned the child within me, fully completely, was my sanity.
She was a painting, a mosaic, she was divine, but what do I know, I am insane, my mind is not kind.
Her skin smells like cinnamon, her breathe smells like rain, her words spoke with kindness, though not about me,
Wash away all my disdain, her smile is a renewal of a world colored by lack, when she looks in my direction, I feel my soul recieve a smack.
I am not a good person, I feel I deserve nothing but pain, your soul has the aura of a light summer rain.
You make me feel something, I have not felt before, I deeply want you, but not the I want a ****. I want to treat you kindly, never felt this before. I did not think I was capable, my soul being so sore.
I don’t know what to do with this, I know it is unreal, I just am begining to learn how to feel.
I am in love, I am in love, with voices that shove me, anyone really, who makes me feel dreary, because I am addicted to pain not with painkillers but with pain, addicted is not the right word, maybe
LOVE would be more appropriate.
I love you baby, so much, so very much.
BURN ME
I go round and round in circles, I am the pain of mind that won’t turn off, I am addicted to the cycle of up and down, can’t get off.
I go round and round in circles, I am the pain of mind that won’t turn off, I am addicted to the cycle of up and down, can’t get off.
Why? And what do you mean?
I mean be mean to me, make me cry, I like to be poked in the eye.
Um… dude…
I know, this is weird, I am going to stop embarrassing myself online…
You are the Goddess of the Rivers made of stardust, and light, you are a creature of reflection and of dancing in the night. You come to those who are drowning, and addictied to act of fight, you are creature of pure reflection, and save the infected, sick and addicted to spite.
I meditate on you often, even though I do not quite understand, being a creature of habit, I am sure of one thing only, and that is,
I do not understand you right-ly.
I am not saint-ly.
I am a liar and a theif.
I am a creature of swamps and of things that dwell beneath.
You are a Goddess that is above me, and so I am stuck looking at the skies, but it is hard to not go below, I am a creature with downcast eyes.
I am
Look at me, look at me, exercizing self-control, silly addict able to keep myself from plunging into dark vacant hole. I have done pretty good at keeping things out of my mouth or my veins, but really done nothing, other than simply abstain, and really done nothing except sit in a chair, and listen to people who have been here and there.
It is getting easier, I really must tell you, I am learning to love
Everything else, so very much, that was obnoxious I hate everything I say, and wish I had someone else, so badly, but not, need to maintain distance, because love makes me rot, my brain, my brain, I am still insane, and so very vain, and obsessed with myself, I need to stop this, I am getting on my last
NERVE
NERVE
NERVE
Switch Off.
End Transmission.
I am so happy, she is so great, I am so happy, don’t know if you relate. She is my best friend, I am her’s too, we will be together, forever with you, is what I say to her, because she is my first love, my sweet one, my honey, my lovely morning dove.
I love her forever, for all time, it will last.
What are you talking about? You left everyone we were with, I wanted to stay, and you made us leave.
This was about you.
Oh, thank you.
I colored you like your two loves.
She was a monster, my sweet turtle dove, she was so crazy, and loved black and white, she was a monster, with him she did fight.
I live the still life, I lay around and do drugs all night.
Your boyfriend was so dull, though you were so great, he just layed around, you two couldn’t relate, I don’t know what you saw in him, that’s a lie yes I did, he was your dealer, and you two had a kid.
I wish I could have had you, and so did, so you say, but because you refused to leave him, I had to go away, now you remain in all likelihood, still doing the same thing, not getting out, but instead giving in.
The addicted live in misery, they live in pain, the lurk in the shadows, they stand in the rain, the litter the streets with garbage and pain, they scream in the night, their lives down the drain, they have no hope, they are told they should die, and looking back it just makes me cry.
My hands hurt. I am tired, and I really want to get high. So basically, I just really want to get high or drunk, but I don’t because I am an ***hole when I get drunk or high.
Too bad, so sad…
You are being a **** too, at least I admit I am doing it.
You did not admit you are doing it, I told you that you were.
I am you, writing on the internet a conversation you are having in our head.
At least we aren’t doing this on a street corner out loud while high.
Yeah, there’s that…
I am running, I am not sure what I am running from, but I come upon this house, and begin pounding on the door, there are women inside and I start speaking, not even sure what is going to come out of my mouth, just knowing that I am hungry and tired, and can’t walk anymore, because it feels like I have been walking for a really long time.
They invite me to sit down.
I am a house in the middle of nowhere, I am owned by an adult child, and populated with the unfortunates, who travel through the night and day, and come and stay sometimes, and sometimes run away, and never return.
I am not paid for, because I was abandoned a long time ago, and to the eyes of the owner, no one ever comes in and no one ever leaves.
I am covered with lack of care, which is great because on these stairs, no one is there, no one and everyone really, every one and any one who is in need…
I have a tale and a tail about a wailing woman, who thought she lost me, and was having a cow, not a whale.
The convenience of the universe astounds me.
I ran into a woman once, literally into her, I was chasing my dog, and she was chasing her’s.
CRASH
I really like coffee, that was stressful, and I dropped mine, do you want to accompany me.
I am tired, so yes, some coffee sounds excellent.
This is really good, what were you doing out there chasing your dog?
Huh?
I mean, are you from around here and were just taking a walk? Or, are you site seeing or something? If you are site seeing… I am from the area, and could tell you some places to check out, or just show you… I mean if you want?
That sounds excellent…
TBC
I will follow you
Follow you wherever you may go
Except that storage unit, anywhere but there, anywhere but there, I am going up the stairs, I want to be anywhere but there.
It tells me it knows what I think, that I am going to Hell, and that it will be okay, that I have nothing to fear, because the devil, a man who lived, is just like me, and everything will be alright, that I can have whatever I want, once I get there, and that I should just swear allegiance now.
I laugh, if I have to swear allegiance, that is all horse ****.
Feed me your bull****
Feed me your lies
Tell me your stories of deep dark cries
To heads that love you, so very much, that trap you and keep you like an animal stuffed
and suffering in a deep dark hole
They don’t want your friendship, just you sullied soul.
You are everything I do not have, because I have lived of a life of too bad, so sad, goodbye’s, of too high to live, but too sad to try to die. You are everything I never had, becuase I was too mad to put a bottle down, too angry to throw out mixed poison, and now I am stuck in looking back, because for the moment, it is Sunday and I have nothing to do, but think of you.
I am a gasoline fire, made of pained backward reflection, smoke billowing everywhere, anywhere and nowhere, burning embers, burning leaves saved from September, the last time I remember feeling anything other than small and addicted to pain.
She looks like our friend, baby.
Yeah she does, are you done ****ing now?
Yeah, I guess so, at least I have you.
There exists a peice of my heart, on the ground, trampled right in front of a rose plant. It has been there since the winter, wishing to find shelter. It is not dead, but exists in the ground, hiding from those who used to hunt it.
It has grown into the ground, and was once one with it, now it is cradled by the roots of the plants kissed by the sun and is entwined in their plant sheild,
I am plants, I have been dug up, I am unrooted, and now I am stuck, in the form which I have taken, and in form by those who have mistaken, me for posession, though I am alive, or I was, before they contrived, their foolish plan to construct this heart, now I am dead, and must re-start.
the roots wrapped around it, protecting it from the crush of the stones around it, the plants form a nest in which it is entwined, being absent of thorns, and also grow upwards, drawing my heart closer to the surface, and out of the damp dark soil, where it lay, with each day the plants grow, and each day it gets closer to growing out of its grave situation.
I wonder what will happen when it grows out of the ground, will it die? Or will it flower?
I don’t know why, she was dressed up for an elegant outside meal. I was scrounging around looking for spare change, from more fortunate people that happened to pass by. The area I was in was frequented by well off travelers, which is why I chose to walk through there at dinner time, they were more likely to help you after getting all boozed up and sleepy from eating too much, as is customary in America when out to eat on vacation at a much too expensive restaurant.
I would not even noticed their table, she was too attractive for me to notice her completely. I tend to skim past women of a higher class than available to people like me, mostly due to my inability to deal with rejection, which is highly likely with women like her.
She called out to me, offering up the rest of a plate of asparugus, and inviting me to sit down, she was extremely drunk, to her husband’s dismay. He was not very happy to see her sitting with someone when he returned to the table, so she offered to show me to the laundary mat, and we left, leaving him confused and behind.
TBC
You are standing in front of a wall you painted dark green, like the ocean, or the idea of being mean, you didn’t like that, thinking it ruined it.
Ruin radiates from your eyes, no your ruin, but rather, mine, something I jealously guard, tortured guard, of Hell’s sword.
You stare blankly into the nothingness, that is everything you see before you, because everything before you is nothing, compared to the light radiant hands that painted the walls the color of the love of the sea, sprayed on, with the spirit of sea spray, encapsulated, by the captivating hands of one who radiates love so deep for all around her. You paint color into the darkness in waves that turn me green with envy, making me a creature on your walls, invisible, and broken, down into the atoms, so low, that I am nothing, but fragments, on the walls, shattered and broken, but brought back together, and rematched, by everything that you are.
You are a shooting heroic star.
I loved her so very much, I decided to treat her poorly.
So in love with black and white, you are, you are my shooting star, you are everything to me, I love you so clearly, so dearly, you are everything that I ever wanted, and needed, please stay always my
HEROIN
I loved her so very much, I decided.
To treat her poorly, was not my intention, and of it I make mention to mention why, I treated her
My treat is to retreat.
I am a coward.
She was mean to me.
I am coward, and did not want to see.
You are an addict.
You are a liar.
I hold a lamp shinning on your soul, alight with HELL FIRE.
You glow with green fixation, you are pure agitation, you are pained resistance, you are my existance.
That is a little extreme.
hahahahahahhahahahhahhahahhah
Make me fast
Make me slow
Make me go
25, oh 25, how I love you so
25, oh 25, so fast, and yet so slOoOoOw
25, oh 25, a number oh sweeeeeeeeet
25, oh 25, you take me off my feat.
You are a number in my memory, for many a reason, you are a number in my memory, no matter what season, you are so…
I am done thinking about……
You are such an ***
I am sitting on the floor, waiting for my shot of sun, you are above me, having so much fun. You went first, what a surprise, you are so very good at becoming the objectification of despise, oh sweet master, you are the apple of my eye. You hold the key to my heart baby, in injectable poision.
I stare at a spindle, no I stare at you, I love you so much, what are we to do?
GIVE IT TO ME.
You ask me
What?
I desire poison.
I am the act of cut.
Sever.
Cut me in two.
I just want it, not you.
Ow, I hurt my own feelings.
Sometimes, I wake up and I am not me, but someone else, somewhere else, and if nothing else, I am aware, that this means very bad things are happening to me, somewhere else, where I am actually myself. This time, I wake up in a painting. I am not sure why, but I am aware that I am in the painting, which kind of feels like lucid dreaming for normal people, I guess.
It feels like actually being in a canoe, like I am imagining is in the painting which I am hallucinating, or for regular people, lucid dreaming. The only difference is very strange. I am extremely warm. It feels like sunburn.
I am so warm in fact, that I want to jump out of the canoe, which I do, immediately, and feel the water in the painting hit my skin, but also feel the burning sensation go away, as I imagine other water hits my real skin. I am comforted by this fact, that somewhere ele, where I actually am, I am not burning alive, and then I hear it, a commotion, coming from somewhere else, it is a sound I recognize, fire alarm, blarring, somewhere else.
My apartment is on fire.
I am brought back to present time, someone is spraying those of us walking out with a firehose. I am holding a painting of people in a canoe. The strange thing is, it is not the painting from my apartment, there is someone in the waterr next to the canoe, they were not there before.
She thinks we are two different people, so very convenient.
You met me once and hated my guts, I am a girl now, and watch me re-do.
Tell me how much you do not believe me, I adore you, and told you sweetly, that I am not what you want, not a lesbian experience, but I can be whatever you desire, if that is what you want….
I can be whatever you want, I am two people, I am your want, I am whatever label you read on me, I am misread by you, for you, all about you.
I am yours to interpret, I am yours to know, I am clearly what I told you so very clearly, but you would rather hear this, so interpret the lie….
I am the opposite of everything you thought you knew, because I am a do-over, because you like women, and I can be whatever you want me to be, baby.
So very
Perplexing
Isn’t it?
Angel
I am sight from different site.
I exist beneath you, just like you wanted, residing in the idea of down, I am beneath you, honey. I am just where you wanted me, down here.
I am the idea of down.
I am the idea of on the ground, so low, so so
Low.
Solo, that could be said too, but always beneath you.
I am the idea of too much trouble, because I am really.
I am looking at you, but I am not, I am engaged in negative thought, which is not out of the ordinary.
I see you, but I don’t. I want to, but I won’t. That is the whole problem. I am never able to accept… never is so final..
In my mind, exists a battle, between up and down, sound and silence.
Food speaks to me, it tells me to eat it, it tells me I will like it so much better than I can even imagine. This is probably because I am
INSANE
I am probably insane… I am actually insane.
I know this, but I wonder sometimes, if there is something to this, something real, if I am hearing something real, that is real to a small segment of people, but experienced collectively, in that it is the same experience shared by a very small segment of the population, so would that not make it real?
I like eating dinner with me too.
***hole.
That’s what it is isn’t it?
What that you’re an ***hole? If that is what you mean than, yes.
No, that when I eat with you, I am eating with me.
Not exactly.
So pretty much.
This is pointless.
My point exactly.
I stand now, on a dresser, in a room where I used to sit as a human, I must confess, dear.
Now I stand, in big idea, but in small shape and large ear.
I am no longer human, just an elephant in the room.
I am no longer human, just an elephant, encased in plastic casing, or a tomb.
I am no longer human, but if I was, I would have loved to be something, other than an elephant on a dresser.
I met you and began to think instantly of the holy trinity, not because of anything to do with religion, but because you seemed to me to be so divine there appeared to be three of you.
I had always questioned my ability to be like those who looked like me, and you affirmed every doubt I had, because I did not envy you, but wanted only to be someone you wanted, and you wanted someone the opposite of you.
I am not the opposite of you, but I am not sure what that means, because I am not what I am either. I am nothing, I think. I am constantly changing, reflecting only the light of other’s saving grace. I am in a place of constant lostness, at least when staring at your face.
Color me rainbow
Color me dark
I am forgetting where I start, and
Where Hell ends, looking instead at the ends of your hair, I am not all there.
I should not stare.
I am tragic hole in a human’s soul.
I met her near a bridge, she was going to work, she spotted me underneath the bridge, picking up the rest of my stuff, so no one would know I had camped there for the night. If I was careful, sometimes I could use the same spot twice. This was particularly important in Oregon, because it was not as understanding as California, and shop owner’s or random passersby could help police decide to banish the unhoused travelers.
Do you still think what you thought about her?
Yes. I still find it very strange that her name was Bridgette and we met her underneath a bridge.
Look, I know that is peculiar, but what you thought was insane.
I don’t think it is that insane that people were following us and giving quickly devised names, it is a perfectly logical explanation that you see in old movies all the time.
I guess that makes sense.
She is staring at a candle that is underneath a sheet. The candle is on the wall of a house that has been abandoned by its owner’s long ago. She tells me that she feels the pain of the walls, and I ask what she means, she says she too has been abandoned long ago. I tell her that human beings should not have owners, she laughs, and tells me she does not understand why I am telling her this.
I am fading into the walls.
I explain that she is not like the house, which has been abandoned because the house was owned by humans, she tells me she knows how that feels, and I ask her why, this time not bothering to remind her about her humanity. She tells me that since she could remember she always had the company of a male stranger, and now has no one. I tell her we should leave this house, getting an eerie feeling by all that she has revealed, she says she does not think she can, and I tell her she can do whatever she likes. She asks me if I mind if she stays in this house because it has always been her home. I tell her I am leaving, she refuses to come with me.
I left the house in the middle of the night, and the woman followed me, despite her claims that she intended to do the opposite, when we were about 50 feet from the house, I turned my head, and saw her running back towards the dreadful house, I did not follow her, afraid of what drew her back to it’s unearthly darkness.
I remember standing there with you, but alone, I am not a human being, but one who walks with herd, and cannot answer telephone. I remember walking with herd of sheep, and one unknown. I am not an answerer of call, but a mouth that is sewn, tragically shut, by needle.
I was once a maker of dark colored quilt, sown onto pained skin. I am looking back now, at scarred skin, not speaking of new pain, just of that used to live within, it is no longer, but there is nothing new dwelling in the skin I am wearing.
That is not true.
I know that is not true, but go with me, here.
Okay.
I am not sure where I am going with this actually, thank you for interrupting me.
You’re welcome.
I love everything about you, baby, so glad, so elated to have met you face to face, you are a creature of grace.
I am nothing, I am magic, I am an eye. I am a liar, I am crafter, I am wordsmith, I am an enchanter, I am the act of lying down, I am taking nothing standing. I am the idea of withstanding.
You are really ****ing arrogant.
Really, I had no idea.
That was great.
So am I.
Obviously.
I know, right.
Not a question?
Clearly, can’t you see?
***hole.
She was my lover, she was my girl, she was my everything, spinning round and round, and turning upside down, down side up, upside side down, round and over, and upside all around.
You meant nothing, you meant nothing, you meant nothing, you are nothing to me, leave me alone, leave me alone.
I am happy now, this is all in the past.
Looking glass
Looking glass
Looking glass
Alcoholism encased
Addict in blank space
I loved her with everything I had. Baby, oh baby, why did you not give me anything, when I gave you
EVERYTHING I
had
You were big and I was small. you were big and I was small.
She loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not
I am the lie I am the lie I am the lie I am the lie I the lie I am the Eye am I Eye am I I am I
She meant nothing to me, lie
She meant everything to me, and I meant heroin to her.
I am not sure why you didn’t come with me, baby. I thought you wanted to go, but you decided at the last minute to stay behind. I think it is okay, you seem to have gone through the same mental changes, so it does not matter that you didn’t go, so don’t feel bad.
I am sorry, I was on pause, I got scared. I was not able to..
To bring yourself to admit weakness? And you thought I was?
It’s so easy, so easy to set you off, to set you off, watch.
I am tunnel vision.
I am simply on a mission to save myself.
Oh, look at you, so sad, too bad, she hurts me so much..
Works so well, works so well, oh voice of Hell.
I am the show of I am right.
Got you, you want to talk about how you are so much better, how is making me want to hurt myself so much better, I am part of the person you claim to be fully and completely, and this is how you treat yourself?????
You are not me.
You want to chase me around, and then pretend that you are not, like somehow I am doing this to you????? I am you. I am you. I am you. You are attacking you.
I am the METHod to your madness.
Oh, that’s healthy.
You are telling me, what is healthy???
You are listening to a song about speed right now..
But, you are me, and whether you like it or not, you are me, and you can’t make me go away, *****.
That is why I don’t talk to you.
Very mature.
You are talking to me about maturity.
Clearly.
No comment.
You made me cry, is that what you wanted???
Yes, at least you felt something.
Is that all?
Yes.
Oh, so you’re imitating me??
Yes.
Good job.
I am oh so rich, with vice added to a face that asked for nothing but sigh, you gave me nothing but advice.
Isn’t it great? Isn’t it neat?
Aren’t we so very completely in love?
Tell me how much, I need you baby, tell me how much I want you, and I will repeat it so, so, sweetly.
Will of the phoenix, will of the gods, flying so brightly, fighting all odds, you smash into nothing, you fight cold hard truth, you smash into everything, you are my youth, you have no mercy, you were a toy, you were elation, mixed with bitter attempts at joy.
I am a ball of writing agony, I am forever sad to see you go, say it isn’t so, so sorry, oh so sorry, to have to say no.
I long for you badly, think of you in mourning, I wish I was back when I was thoroughly enjoying…
Anything but this, anything but this, please bring me, anything but the sensation of perpetual hit and miss, I am no longer anywhere, anywhere at all, distilled by lack, and oh, so self-involved, I meditate on something, that wasn’t even my past, on an image of success, when I am flea bitten with lack.
I am begging you to please, bring me to my knees.
Standing is so tiring, I am so sick of bitter firing, it makes me very sick, consumed by my own tomb, even though I have not done it for many a moon, I am transfixed with the past, with drugs that didn’t last, they keep my eyes on sky, under which I did not die.
In my heart and sole, I am dead, because I threw those shoes out a long time ago.
I miss you, so much, so much, so much, my heart is full of rust, and dust, oh angel of must, trust, anything else, anything else, enough to stop, writing love poems to heroin, meth, and alcohol.
“Oh, think twice, ’cause it’s another day for you and me in paradise”
Phil Collins
I can stay, I can stay, which is insane I have to say, but who cares, I think if nothing else, the fact that I am insane has become very a parent… ahahahhahhahha.
Macbeth, Macbeth, I am part of my own soul’s death, I am the death of the part that is killing me, I am victor in a kingdom of a Misery, which is my own body, or ours, sorry Amanda, I don’t know what to call you anymore.
That is because I am basically you now.
So when I am talking to you am I just talking to me?
Exactly.
Well, how do I know the difference?
You don’t, neither do I, it happens all the time remember?
Yeah, actually now I do.
Are you done with her?
So it was me obsessed with her?
Yeah, I think so, she was something about self-image, which I think is you not me.
Aren’t we the same thing though?
Yeah, but you are more ego driven because you are newer and on defense mode.
So, I have a built in excuse for being an ***hole, excellent.
This is gross, I am out.
Me too.
So, I think I remembered why I hate myself.
Oh, did you really? Do you see it clearly now??? Oh, master of the art of never coming down, off the pedestal you placed yourself on????
You realize you live in her soul too, how does that reflect on you, voice that shouts about everything I do, you are part of them too yes, but why do you act like an infestation, a manifestation of everything they are not.
I don’t know maybe it is because I have been shoved and pushed around, any time the two of you needed something so useful during the act of coming down.
Well, where were you after that, after your so selfish caring act? Where do you go when you aren’t being, like you describe, if your pain is not contrived, let me see through your eyes, which are theirs, not your’s, by the way, at least I borrow, not try to take away.
I never did that and you know it.
Yes, you did, you just don’t show it.
I can’t believe I remembered that either.
I can’t either, so resentment lives in my head as the voice of an adult woman?
Doesn’t it make sense?
Yes, yes it does. So I don’t have to hate myself as much, because I am not the resentment itself.
Correct.
Thank you.
You’re welcome, and this is not his voice.
I am looking at you, but seeing only me, because I am bitterness reflected, back from eyes that are stained with tearing at myself, bitterness encased in toxic casing which is the current shell I am placed in.
I hate myself, but hated you, because you in some way reflected me too, but that is my problem, even now, I am trying to realize this, and come down, from the pedestal I placed myself on, where I sit alone, and rambling on, about how nothing was my fault.
Is that really how it was, selfish ***hole? No, it wasn’t.
I was addicted to heroine
I was addicted heroin.
I was addicted to heroine
I was addicted heroin
I forever, always and forever, and always and forever will be addicted to heroin
Are you talking to me?
Not you, but it yes…
Why? You want?
We are not doing that ever again
If you do I am coming to
That was not an error Amanda, remember what happened sometimes, the act of coming to
I don’t want that because it will make my… our family sad
I know me neither now.
You are digitally remastered, by a master of disaster, which is why we no longer speak, because my soul was obsessed with the act of living beneath.
I hated you because you were not like us, not me and me, but me and my friends, who had given you trust, but did not trust me, because they should not, because I am a liar an an ***hole when I am using.
You gave me a wolf tattoo on my arm, I asked for a cat and you put a wolf on my arm, and now I forever remember you, because you knew me better than I knew myself.
I am small with regret, a tramp stamp, made by neglect.
I am holding a stick not a sword, because sticks and stones, hit harder than pen or sword, because the words of children speak more to my writer than anything else, because that is when my writer learned to hate themselves.
The things that cut me are not sharp, they are dull, and cut me because I stick them in myself, over and over and over, a repetitive behavior, I know.
Always, and never, always and never
Always
Never
That is really mean, but you know what, I forgot which one of us was talking, I might have been insulting myself.
You were, so the mean comment was at yourself, to yourself, about yourself, which you shot back at me.
Cool?
That’s all?
Yes?
Cool.
***hole.
Cool!
That one was actually such a peice of **** thing to say, I remembered why I like you.
How dare you enjoy life? I cannot, I am addicted to strife, or to strive, or to striving or to seeming
So so so
Alive.
That sounded insane.
I know. Isn’t it great.
No.
Ouch.
I actually did think it did, you just gross me out.
I know, because I am your own self-love, or the rabid dog version of it, which is a funny way of saying narcissistic personality disorder.
I am married to myself.
Look at me, as I talk like two different people who are divorced.
Dancing sirens at the ocean.
Make me think of my devotion, to nothing but myself.
Ouch, I burned myself.
That is really ****ing accurate.
Isn’t it?
Yes.
That is why people thought I was your ex-boyfriend.
You kind of are.
How?
I don’t really know.
Me neither. I think I would be your ex-husband not boyfriend.
Hahah. The ring of power.
I once was green, but now am sad, because I am a drug addict and alcoholic, fantasizing about being hung over instead of sad, because that is better?
I am.. weird… I don’t get it either…
Color me clearly, I am not her. I know you are not, but you once were, I am using someone else’s image, which is a metaphor within a metaphor within a meta for.
I don’t know what that means, but it sounded interesting. I don’t know what I am, but I sound interesting sometimes. I think.
I am blue, because I am sad, but that makes me uncomfortable, so let’s call it mad, or rage.
Fear. fear. fear.
Things you should not say while tripping or falling or tripping or falling.
I am everything that makes people not hear me.
I am screaming, get away from me.
If there are no people around, I don’t have to be something I am not, which is everything I am, or look like anyway.
The narrator hates themself.
You are the narrator too.
I am not responsible for what you do.
I am not responsible for you do either.
Addict. Addict. Addict.
Telling lies, telling lies, accountability, accountability, life of despise.
What does that even mean?
I liked how it sounded, rappers do it, why can’t it be done with horror, and actually all letters you write me are severe, because they are severly disturbing to average people.
That is actually very true.
I know that is why I thought of it.
Not everything you think is true.
Name one thing.
I am not a drug addict, I just like heroin and can do it responsibly this time, if I just don’t drink. This is actually something you were thinking today. How do I know, because I was thinking it to.
I am a box that never should have been opened.
I am trying it one time, and never again.
I will never do it two days in a row.
I can just drink one.
I can just have three.
I will start at five.
I will start at 12.
Severly, means harshly, and I think that a lot of us talking to each other, can be considered harsh, which is why I like you.
You like me because you have to, because I am you, or half you, and you are in love with your whole self which is half me.
Sick burn.
Mouth full, mouth full, choking on noise, I like hate read through play play play with…
I am going to punch you in the face.
The sweet embrace of erase, is the solution to all missing space, and all that matters not, I like fear when it runs through paths that are wrought with fear and choas ascending, I like deer with feet that are trending towards running into cars,
Cars. cars. cars.
What is mine, is really ours.
I am not.
You seem better, face so…
If you say it I will poke you in the eye.
That sounds fun, so will I.
Sounds like blindness, oh see clearly.
I hate you so very much.
I loooooovveee… you, but mostly us. us. us.
I am the fear of stay. I am the thought of lack of… pay.
I have to pay you to stay in your own brain? I like it.
Does it ever feel like you are forgetting which one is talking?
That is because I am winning.
I am self-hatred, read so so clearly.
I am talking, but really not, I am hate read in pain so hot.
I am a condescending self-defending ***hole, who just got tired of this, you lose, to bad, so sad, I am mad, glad, bad,
Going away now…
Is that supposed to be me? Loser.. it doesn’t look like me or anyone we know..
I painted you in a way you hate.
This isn’t even painted, it is a digital image re-touch thing.
Don’t you hate stupidity??
Yes.
Double win.
You have nothing of mine, because you do not need it, you are so divine, need no refining touch, so I painted you badly, sadly, tragically so, I love you, though I don’t know you, never will, so sad, too bad, my sweet princess, we will never go to the far below, because I am trying to get over…
Over and over and over, up and out of the of the Hell, that is life without, anyone but me, I do not…
Yes, you do liar.
I am.
I know this, that is why I said it.
We are doing the same thing we used to do at the bar, but this time we are alone, without other people doing it too, and without alcohol or drugs… how does it feel?
Like I am cutting myself off at the knees, but I kind of like it?
Good… me too.
I wonder if this will ever get better…
I don’t think it can get worse than this, so I think we will either die, or it will get better… or it will stay just this bad forever and ever…
How bad is this?
I don’t know, it has always been this… so how bad is it really?
I am still alive? I guess that means it is okay enough…
I think I would be happier like this, completely alone, talking to myself as my partner.
Hey, isn’t that what we are doing now, and doesn’t it ****?
Yes.
Than what the **** are you talking about???
That I am insane, and don’t know what else to say, and I am trying to make someone laugh, even if it is just you?
So you are talking to yourself on a blank screen, trying to type things that make you feel good about yourself?
Yeah, isn’t that what the book of faces is???
I don’t think anyone on that thing is looking in a mirror talking to their own face as if it is another person?
They aren’t? That is what it looks like to me.
That is because we are insane, and it is not what they are doing, because they are not insane.
That sucks.
For us or them.
Well, mostly them.
Why?? Not what I expected to hear…
Because, we never have to be truly alone.
Or, we are always more alone than anyone ever.
Other than maybe Gollum on Lord of the rings.
You’re welcome, I am usually the one saying that to you, so now you got a taste of your own medicine, and got to be the bad guy for once. How did it feel?
Like I was sitting back and listening to you talk, but I was actually present in my own body, having to experience me talking, and be completely coherent during it.
Hahaha! So, it is not easier being me, now is it?
Actually, wrong, it was being you than it would be being me, if it was me, I would not have been there at all, the fact that I am you was the only reason I was able to deal with any of it.
Thank you, I don’t know what to say about that.
Really? Thank you is all you have?
Amazing isn’t it?
No, actually, a thank you is kind of nice.
You know how insane this whole process is right?
Yeah, was just thinking the same thing.
Maybe, other people do this in their own heads.
I don’t think so.
I was just trying to make my own self feel better.
Yeah, your own self.
You are my own self.
You are my own self too.
That is a very insane thing to say.
Isn’t it lovely, isn’t it great?
So sorry baby, I can’t relate, I am addicted to madness, to pain and slow death, that is what I have been given.
I call it time theft.
This is my life which I was given, from the time I was born, ticking time clock was ticking. I am to be thankful, I am to be glad, I am to serve everyone, because there lives are sad, I am to shut up, I am to be down.
I am to always smile, only laugh, never frown.
I am to speak kindly.
I am sorry that I cannot do, I hate everything around, sorry, baby even you.
I want different cards, or I want to quit playing. I tried all my life in every way, to quit playing, every attempt came with failure, and people glad I was alive, while I sat like always wanting to off my life.
Label me chaos,
I am a game of chicken played in red and blue, not green, but blue.
I don’t know what to do, except scream, because I don’t want any of this, never did, never will, and no matter how much I try, I am not allowed to quit playing.
Label me doubt, label me contention, because I love to scream and shout. I love the human word, because I in perpetual fight to be not heard, because you know what I really don’t care.
Label death, they already did, at eight, already dead, ticking, ticking, so thankful, so grateful, so sad, too bad, already gone, gone, gone.
I lived my whole entire life, on rock bottom from eight to now, on gravel, and sometimes jagged rock, crawling up. I was born with something, for those who do not know that gave me a life expectancy of 21.
21, 21, 21
Wish sometimes, that I had lost not won.
My life is all silver linings, and people say I should be thankful, greatful, for what, more time than 21 years?
Because I am somehow supposed to be thankful to have less time than most people???
Gravel. I am so fond of you. I know everything about every curvature, every outline, of the pleasant rocks at the bottom of the path that is my life, which I went off, because I am sorry…
I don’t like cutting my feet on rocks very much.
My whole is not my fault. I was scre… can’t even sarcastically say this, this is insane, not true, ****.
I am blame.
I am not at fault.
It was fate from the very start, I have done nothing wrong, my whole life, Hell’s theme song.
I am such a bad liar.
My hand! My hand!
It’s got to be my hand, my hand, because I am missing my finger tips on three fingers, my thumb, my right one, the right one, the one I used to write with, not I type with… that has to be the reason that I failed, lived a life of ship has sailed, clearly not that I jumped off, long ago.
Your hand happened, our hand happened when we were 32, you are 36, four years was not all the ruining we did…
You said we, not just you…
I know, I feel sorry for you sometimes.
Yourself, stupid.
I know stupid, I am good at that.
Wow, that is disgusting don’t type that…
Oh I know, I thought that too, I am always right behind you.
That is creepy as all Hell.
Guess, what it got us.
It is just as well.
She stole your money, and I’ll give it back, little do you know, this is all an act. We tricked you, baby, but you don’t know. I wanted your attention and your friend did know. Now you are sitting thinking she left you here, she is buying something of which you won’t here. I covered for her, because without her, I would never have met you, and after today won’t see you again, and this I bet you, so right now, I will tell you anything you want to hear, and yes have anything you want, I have it here.
I don’t know when she will be back, she did not tell me, and yes she will be back of this I assure, I implore you please relax, your insanity and anxiety is such a tax, I love your voice honey, and love your face, I have something that I am sure will make your pain slow pace.
Okay, she is back no go away, and if you are ever in need you know where I stay.
You sit in an empty room, friends have gone, you linger on, wishing for those with your desire for a party dead, you turn your head to the corner of the perpetual lurkers, the pained smirkers, reality deserters, wondering were we go so late, how great a party that never ends, we could be your best friends, we party till we are dead. You think this is funny, because you don’t realize I am serious, and that is not fun, but mere compulsion.
We are those who lurk below, where time goes fast and go slow.
We are those who can’t say no, and slowly it has begun to show.
If you want you can come to Hell, where we the consumers always dwell, it is not advised, and you would do well, to leave us where we rot…
We are no longer at a party, baby, we are merely ****ing crazy,
I am pour, pour, poor
I am more, more, more
Such a chore
I am sure
and a bore to maintain
This level of perpetual
Disdain
we drink till we fall down, we get up and continue to crawl the ground, we stand with powder dust, we have lost all ability to trust our senses, we exist in chaotic hell, under poison spell, we eat our souls through bitter consumption of acid bile.
I smile with the power of intoxication and fixation on meditation on the idea of eventual death. I am the quest for lie die fry. I am a funny lie.
I am forever running from myself, and myself, and the shelf on which lay, lie, all the memories which I and I and eye, run from because they make me want to die and cry and lay beneath, forever and ever. I am afraid of nothing but me, and my hands which have been around my own neck my whole life, choking me out of existence, in a stance of persistence waiting for a time, when I am not looking and forever booking events that are creating chances for death.
Engaged in a chase with a girl who is also me, seeking to prove that I am better and should win the right to begin a life that is already started, seeking to shut down a consciousness which is also mine, a life in decline, because it has been resigned to the act of fight each other for domination, when we could have been on constant vacation, with each other.
I live with my best friend in a skin cage, that is the mind of the insane human being, sharing space with addiction and mental illness, paranoid of spending life devoid of meaning fighting to glean any kind of truth, from a memory with no roots because it stands on two grounds, and occurs in a multi-dimensional universe of 3-D surround sound. I am scared of my existence.
I am watching you
And it makes me so very sad, to see you standing in a place so bad… painted as it is with death of day, a place I am sure from which you should stay far away, given such a pretty face, so tragic it would be for it to be stuck in this space, the place where we have come to haunt, to murmur curses and sadly taunt, the beings that come from above ground land, where I am sure your sweet form must be from and stand on the lands that are populated by better folk, not us my dear, who down here sulk.
There is still time, you can still turn around, you don’t have to be a lurker on this tragic ground, you need not listen to my partner’s voice, just run away, you have a choice.
She’s got cash, you fool, let’s help her out, she might help us, if we don’t make her go without, so shut your mouth, don’t make her run, come on, dumb ****, let’s have some fun.
Now I am sorry baby, but to get out of here, you are going to need a guide and she is right here, my friend, my friend, she is great, a true sweetheart, with such a pretty face, I’ll be right back, and you will laugh, she looks like me, she is my other half, she will make sure you will be fine and away you’ll go. I am someone you would rather not know, I am sure you will be just fine, look here don’t cry, sweet one, take a beer, go away, baby I am not good with your kind, I am resigned to live in life of decline, so no I don’t have what you thought you need………..
He told me something
Spoke so clearly, told me that he loved me dearly, he had such a beautiful voice, so I felt like I had no choice, but to make him
CRY CRY CRY
I love you sweetheart, hope you
DIE.
You are part of an empire of chaotic obsession with death that seeks the theft of youth by making them afraid of the idea of truth, so they stick themselves with
PINS AND NEEDLES
Sowing into themselves cushioning, that cuts out everything they are, everything they were before, making them sure of nothing other than that they need endless replenshiment of something that is not food, not water, not shelter, or warmth but
GIVE ME MORE LOVE
I am the act of shove, I am the act of push, I am take everything you have.
I am addiction, I am all consuming, I am ever entombing, I will eat your
SOLE
Of your shoe because your real soul belongs only to you, please
Remember that.
I am small
I am weak
I can’t speak
I can’t speak
I am sorry.
I was just kidding, let’s not fight.
My writing is bigger than yours.
I am not you idiot, it’s alright, it’s alright.
Is it really? You’re not mad.
Of course, I am not, not even sad.
I like you really, truly, deeply.
Well, that went smoothly.
Did it really?
Huh?
Your lack of confidence is hilarious.
You sound like me.
I know it’s fun, now I see why you do it to me.
I press words that make cry.
I am condescending poke in eye.
I, I, I,
Me, Me, Me
Say things that set you free
Like what
I don’t know I am not free either
Prisoner, Prisoner, Prisoner
I made this for you
Because I love everything you do
I am sorry I make you sad
Oh, thats nice
We are in the same jail cell, sounds way better when you can hear me say it out loud, I have two voices, and sound very interesting when they talk to each other
Like a movie
about a divorced couple fighting over custody of itself.
You are such an ***hole.
See, just like that.
Yeah, I guess just like that.
Love ya, sweetheart.
I love you so much, you turn my heart to dust, I trust nothing more than you, I love everything you do.
You sound psychotic.
You do too.
I love you too, by the way, so glad we are okay.
How do you unwind after a demanding day?
I used to fire drugs, play games with thugs, and sweep pain under rugs, now I am resigned to a life of pain, as long as it does not go down the drain again. I am no longer alone, I remembered I don’t need a phone, because I am my own best friend.
I never have to be alone again.
I am the nuerotic psychotic, who saw a nuerologist, psychologist and got the gist of the meaning of all of this.
I have a nuerologist, therapist, primary care doctor and am going to be on medication in two weeks, my shunt is functioning, found out I will live with this level of chronic pain the rest of my life and just have never experienced it as an adult because I was always too messed up to know what it was like as an adult. Have not been sober since I was a child.
Which is great for me, because the building I was living in at the time was not dark, but was abandoned, which I told her…
she said it was edgy, whatever the **** that means, apparently being a junkie is edgy? I don’t think she knows what edgy means. I don’t really have much of a choice of whether or not she is coming with me because she kind of just started following me to my edgy ****hole of an, “I sleep here till I am told to vacate…”.
I am the glamour of the unknown.
I am so free, you do not even know.
I spend every day and every night in a continuous race to erase my whole **** life.
I am talking to her, and I realize she is not even listening to me…..
The oddest thing about the whole thing, was that eventually at some point during the whole thing she just walked away, I tried to ask her where she was going, and she just kept walking, saying nothing, just left…. to this day, I wonder what she wanted, and there is a part of me that still thinks she was a ghost.
I moved my spot the next day, I wonder sometimes if she was a sad junkie that lived in that building who thought it was edgy at first and then died there… or if she was just my brain telling me to stop doing drugs through hallucinations.
Don’t call me lovely, ***hole.
But, you are……..so………..
You are such a lunatic.
I know. 🙂
Happy faces?
I like happy faces.
What?
I am not saying that again. So is that tie die liquid or booze, or some sort of multi-color drink or some kind of strange poison?
Aren’t poison, tie die liquid and alcohol all the same thing to me and you?
You’re point being?
That exactly.
So you were putting it there to kill me?
I was putting it there so you would throw it out the window. I am not good at throwing it out the window, I was thinking about it, and this helped me. I am sorry it didn’t help you.
I don’t like being helped, so I am trying to make it seem like you are the bad guy, so I can turn the whole thing on its head and be the good guy and it’s not working, so I will stop because I don’t care anymore.
Hahahahahhahahah. Check mate.
hahahhahahhha yourself.
Describe a random encounter with a stranger that stuck out positively to you.
I used to work at a sandwich shop, and this story is a story about two encounters that I had at this shop on the same night one positive, one negative, the positive was the last one, and it is the one that stuck out the most because it appeared to happen to negate the first one, almost as if it was because the universe knew the first one happened, which is what I think… because I believe that there was something higher than a human being protecting me from the first encounter.
I was the night clerk at a place that made sandwhiches, like I said in the paragraph prior to this, one I am restating this as a way to remember this…
I worked there from 2 in the afternoon until one in the morning most of the time, this day I was only scheduled to be there till ten, until a bunch of strange things all happened on the same day which all lead to the postive experience in the question.
1. We had a man run into the store who had been beaten up by some random guy in a truck that had been following him because the person in the truck hated gay people, the person knew me, knew my situation and knew that the place I worked would allow him to stay there until he could safely get a ride from his mother home, which we did, and he was able to safely get home. All proper procedures were followed and the man was able to be seen off by the authorities into the hands of his crying mother.
2. A man came into the store an hour before I was about to close, and demanded that we make 100 sandwiches, which we did, without asking if he had the money to pay for them, because he looked like he did… He was well dressed, and looked like he was not the kind off person who would do what he did…
He leaned over the counter, and looked me straight in the eye, and told me I was going to sell him all the sandwiches for a dollar. I said I could not do that, and looked to see if the gas station guy had left yet for the night, because the guy smelled like booze, which could have been reason enough to throw him out.
He then proceeded to ask me a very strange line of questions.
He demanded to know whether I believed in the Christian god, being very clear with me that it was the Christian god he spoke of.
I told him I am Catholic.
He asked me, what my god had done for me recently…
I shrugged, trying to get out of the conversation…
He then asked me if my god could replace the money missing if he took the sandwiches, I said I didn’t think so… He told me he thought it would be like Jesus and the fish thing.. I stopped speaking… at this point he tells me, he is of the belief that most people have chosen the wrong side, and that his god, the Christian devil is preferable.
I stop talking, thinking the man is probably intoxicated and in some kind of stupor.
He eventually leaves, and I close.
2. I get home and at this point am done with the whole thing, and am greeted by my ex, the one who I have not spoke about much on here, who tells me that I have a strange visitor.
A man hugs me, and tells me he saw the whole thing at my job, and that he applauds the way I handled it. He tells me that he knows I did the right thing and says he has seen the man reward people for breaking the rules of their establishments if they give him the items for one dollar.
He tells me that he followed me home to make sure I was alright, in his car which is nowhere to be seen. He laughs, says he is glad I am alright, gives me a hug and wishes me well, and I go upstairs, from my window I can see the man driving away, even though I could have sworn that there were no cars around.
I am sitting staring at the ground, in this memory with lack of sound, lack of presence of anyone around, simply staring down not up at the plain old ground. I am thinking about nothing, that is a lie, I am thinking about
Her, as I am usually thinking about her, but not the her that I usually am thinking about a different one….
I heard this voice…. a strange voice, long ago…. this is a memory… this whole thing… not just this part of it…
THE NARRATOR IS INSANE
You don’t even use my name now…. that’s kind of ****ed up
You have too many names to keep using one or the other.
I have two, and one of them is yours.
Point taken.
Are you going to finish your story?
No…… I think I will just leave it with this……..
Tell me a story….
The lights, the lights, the lights
Sometimes, at times, in times, all the time, always and forever, they
I am the green machine
I am envy
I am mean
I am looking at all you lack
I am condescending soul attack
Blend together, not the right word, I am so unheard, absurd, painted, re-done, unspun, spinning, spinning down down down down
Talk to me, sweety, talk to me nice, I am extendeeeeeeeeeeeeddddddddd
Through time………..
I go back back back
Walk through the thoughts of the dark
I am a polaroid from Hell, that is where I stay and it is just as well….
Well, well, well,
Not doing so good are you?
I color your world with the colors of Disease, Damien, I color your world with the colors of everything your soul lacks, everything that will cause your eventual failure.
Everything that makes you feel small.
I am the voice of Hell and I am the loudest sound of all.
When I was followed by the glowing light that illuminated the night, street lights that would light up as I past them
I don’t know why or how, just simply that they would blink on and off and off and on
Cover me in purple mirth
I am the fuel of nightmares.
I dream of horses
I dream of horses
I dream in color
I dream of another
I live in bile, I live in Hell, I live in forever under dark dispell.
Come back to me baby, don’t let it drive you crazy………………
On and on and on and on always and forever
always and forever
forever and always
Always and never.
What is behind the soul resigned to perpetual de
CLINGING
CLING
ING
I am the ing, the exstention of what it means to be, you live in me, you live
But, do you?
I don’t know, isn’t this what it is to be alive?
Is it really?
I came for your best friend, last night while you were sleeping…………
I would know, I would know, I would know. That isn’t so, she lives with me, lives with me, we are together, always and forever
YOU ARE DISGUSTING
I am nothing.
I know this.
Hey, what are you doing?
You know the thing we do everyday… talking to voices from that place we go..
Misery, misery,
You are so near and dear to me
How I love to
ROW
ROW
I am the act of go, I am the act of go
GoOoOoO
OoOoOo
ING
ing
i n g
How does it feel to be back?
How does it feel……….
How does it
I am the act of
ING
I never go, I never go, I never go
Do you hear the sound?
What are you doing?
I am going nuts, but it’s interesting, I can control it a little bit now, I think the whole meditation thing is working, if I let my crazy out in little bits I don’t hallucinate as bad.
It’s working for me too..
Same person.
Right.
