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.

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Kiss me, baby.

Kiss me with sun, kiss me with act of spinning, spinning, un-spun, re-wrung.

Who were you then?

Who are you now?

I am swirling chaos, I am up and down.

Timeless, Time Less, Less Time, Time Less

Do you see time?

Does it see you?

It is present in all things you do.

I am a negative, I am an item.

I am time, the world re-arranged.

I am strange.

I am earth shattering negative of a world that glows in the dark, the beauty of night in light that is stark. The call of night bird, or hooting of owl, the howl of a coyote, or looking far south, I am looking away from star, and light of the moon, I am the coming of deep and troubling monsoon. I am the coming of winter, felt always and never.

I am the act of swimming while remembering December. I am the act of continuing in time that moves on, I am a song, I am droning on and on.

Waves of Collected Sunlight

In them I see you, inherent in everything they do, being so seperate from me, so much closer to divinity, so much higher than I could ever be, please bring me closer to you, I have been silent, because I began to use my hands to serve myself, selfish and self-seeking, please take them back, to serve you.

I am looking at the light, and seeing a picture painted before me, with I highlight, painted places I see you in it, I see you, not them, but you in starlight, thank you for reminding me who you are, being, that paints the night sky with luminance, thank you for being there, for those with downcast eyes.

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 scream in color, I scream in death and decay, I scream in colors that paint you took me away. Where your house is, is where I used to live, where bricks are laid is where my branches were, where the bricks lay, is where I was ripped away.

My reality is broken, it cannot be given back, my branches scream with panic attack, I cry in the attack of taken away, my branches screech for me, I bellow for them too, I am dying and it is because of you.

In the night you came searching, you came with a knife, with your friends you came cutting, you came for my life.

You cut me from a bush, you cut me clear off, not my leaves are dying, soon they will fall off.

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.

I brought you a flower, it is nothing.

It is picked from the middle of nowhere, or from nothing.

I mean I can’t remember who you are and was walking, and you are looking at me like you know me, and began talking, and I am holding this, so it must be for you right, and I am sorry, because I no longer have any idea who you are, and this will likely only last a couple minutes, something must have happened that bothered me, and I blanked it out, and now I don’t remember, so here is a flower.

She must have hurt your feelings, this is exactly what happens when people make you cry.

I know this, but I don’t remember why, so it is okay for now. I am just going to forget about it for now.

You should find out why.

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.

Do you like technicolor?

I am unnoticed

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

SYMMETRICAL

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.

Color me kind

Color me quick

Bring back my colors

Make my colors

Stick

Meditate

On kindness

Not on the dark

Bring back the sunshine

Don’t rip out

Your own heart

Speak only of gladness

And of bright days

Don’t chase out gladness

Speak of bright ways.

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 like pain, I like pain, I like pain.

It is always on my……..

Have from flowers, from Hell.

So sorry, that is just where I dwell, sometimes, not all the time, really, I am fine, just thinking about you sometimes, not all the time.

You are on my

BRAIN BRAIN BRAIN

In meditative state I reflect on the rain, and think of drowing, a duck with my head up, not breathing, just sucking in the water, and choking on it.

Burn me sweetie, make it hot, burn it so it cures my soul rot. Make it seering, make it jarring, make it burning, make it scarring.

She wore my coat, and I left it with her, because she smelled like lavender, and I wanted to forget her.

You reminded me of the rays of the sun, and that reminded me of someone I would rather

FORGET

Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.

I am so sorry, wedded to disdain, been with her such a long time, grown so used to being bound to decline, it is always on my mind.

She talks so sweetly sometimes, really, voice sounding so simular, to my ex Rei Clearly,

She tells me she loves me, and sometimes I believe the lie, it is so hard, she is a good spy, has such a good hand, good at act of torture, she is a word sorcerer.

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.

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.

I loved you baby

You were a dream, you were beyond what you seemed to be, I am a nightmare.

I am not anything I seemed, a crying, screaming nightmare, a hellfire vacation, where the only situation that was in any way relaxing was fixation with elation, go away and let me die alone, I am not the one you want to talk to on the phone, I am forever in pain and forever a drain.

You were not like, I painted you like me.

You were so above, my sorry diss ease.

I could not have you, because you knew I was a liar, addiction to meditating on a funeral pyre.

Candy was dandy, and liquor makes me sick, though I am sick to begin, with anyone I am with, I am not able to love, when meditating on cry, she was so sad, because thoughts of her make me sigh, she asked me to quit, but I cannot lie, she was not enough, so I decided to lie, and instead to do things behind her back, meditating on death and on my soul’s lack.

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.

The Ghost Piano, the missing fingers, the missing hands

Oregon, or your gone, Or I am gone, and you never left

Hydrocephalus, how I hate thee.

My head is always below water, that lives around my brain, slowly drowning me in my own disdain, and driving me slowly, insane.

In sickness, with quickness, I am.

In quickness, with sickness, I stand.

I am bound to a form, I am married to a form, I can’t stand.

Heroine, Heroine, where fore art thou, heroine.

I am retired, because my physical form is on fire.

I am on fire because my fire is from a physical form, I loathe, not just for reasons expected, but because of things undetected as of yet.

Heroin, heroin, how I miss thee Heroin.

In sickness, I miss, contents of top shelf.

In, health, I am still in Hell, even though I am told, oh well, you are well, yeah well I feel like ****.

Explanation: This is a journal style entry full of negativity or negative self-talk that I am trying to write out of my head, read with that in mind, do not read if you cannot handle dark horror dramatized fiction.

This is for you baby, you make me insane, you live in my brain, oh voice of disdain, making fun of voice of complain, you are mean, but succeed in drain, drain, drain, all pain from me, so I guess I can thank ya, right? Yeah, right…

Look at me, look at me, so wonderous and free.

NSFW: EXPLICIT CONTENT: NOT FOR SENSITIVE READERS: The Writhing Agony of Whining Morons

My hands hurt, my head hurt, and my brain hurts, so I have spent the entire day in bed feeling sorry for myself ansd watching television, and just got sick of my relentless whining enough to make jokes about it on the internet, because it makes my own resentment, or the voice of every person I have dated, shut the **** up, if I do it to myself instead.

That is the explanation for the plot of the story that is my life, talking at myself or to myself to stop the screaming of my brain at myself.

That good enough for you, *****???

Hope so, maybe then I will be able to chill the **** out.

Hahaha, it is kind of funny now though, the relentless pile of verbal trash I hurl at my own face…

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.

The Laughing Woman, and the Krystal Ship

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.

Still life

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.

She was a statue, though she did move around, she was my girlfriend, a woman with no sound, she was a statue, she was very stiff, she was my girlfriend, and had such quick wit.

She hated all people, and would not talk to anyone, and people she hated, saying she hated everyone, she talked only to me, and it was quite a burden, she was very sad, and unwell, called me Tyler Durden, I told her my name, but she thought we lived in a film,

Didn’t know the difference between Fight Club and me and her life, she was very crazy, came at me with a knife, she told me she must kill me, told me I was bad, so I went away, and now she is mad. She still calls me sometimes, and we talk on the phone, but I think due to her state, it is best she is alone.

I am the rose dancer, I am a be, I am a rose dancer, I aim to be. I am rose dancer I am two bees, I am a rose dancer, I aim to please.

I am an object, I am not. I am resentment, my creator is not, the person writing this story, although their hand types its words. I am realization not to spew hate with words.

I am representation of everything my creator is not, I am self-assertion, realizing there is a god.

I am so very safe, because you are in your place, and I am in mine, paranoia, put in it’s place.

You are in my mind all the time.

I need to meditate on something else, but I do this instead, because I like to make sure I do things all the way, so I am stepping on my self- ass er tion.

I am self-assertion, reality desertion, I am dying because I have to in my owner, this is illustration, to show my owner, that I am bad, even though sometimes my owner is glad to have me… because my owner is insane.

I am. I am. I am.

Look at me, oh so very free, look at me.

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.

Look, but don’t touch

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 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.

Rabbit Hole, Oh Rabbit Hole, You are such a delight, Rabbit Hole

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.

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 burst bubble

I am the idea of too much trouble, because I am really.

She looked like a vampire, or what you would think a vampire looked like anyway, which was probably the point. I met her in New Orleans.

I imagined the whole time, every instant I was with you, what it would be like

To hold you, to touch every inch of you, to be next to you, but I was afraid to touch you, to hold your hand, to be touched by hands.

I built you up in my head, your painted skin and made-up face.

You laughed at me, and I could smell your mint-scented breath in the air, dancing towards my face.

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.

You make me nervous

I am imaging someone, because I have no one, because I have failed my whole life to do anything other than serve my own selfish interests.

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He tells me that he can change his shape, and I think of my friend, who I think I have thought about on this blog before. My friend who believes that something happens and he blanks out and becomes someone else. This reminds me of that. He tells me that he does it through mental focus and meditation on something else, not the person or animal which he is becoming. He also tells me he has no power over what he becomes.

This is slightly terrifying, and suggests that there is another party to this process, or that my new friend, has somehow tapped into the consciousness accessable to beings who meditate, which is strange, because he speaks of this as a sort of body snatching, which is precipitated by a moment of panic, the lack of calm. I don’t know what to think about it, when he is telling me this. To be continued.

I am so negative.

I am in white.

I am so negative.

I lack light.

We grow down and up, we scream in color, we scream with hands, we grasp the sky, drink the air, breath in water, we are corrupt.

In the middle of the night, we speak in lack of light in waves, with hands that reach to the sky, we are forever spies, with eyes to skies, who despise those who walk on our roots, stepping as they do on our history without notice.

We drink light, exist the same in the day and dark night.

We grow down and up.

Her skin was made of paper, she was very fragile, paper thin. Her walls were made just the same, built by hands that hurt from within. She lived in those walls that would protect her from all who were equally spread much to thin.

I am a burning window, to a soul tainted by lack, I am very easy to knock down, even easier to attack. I have no teeth to bite back.

In my little window, I am sheltered from the judging eyes of man, I am just a paper thin person, with no two legs to stand.

I am painted very pretty, but not for any eyes to see..

I am painted just how they would want.

I am painted just for me.

When the people would come to look at her very pretty painted house, the woman was equipped with paper fans, so there gaze, she could live without.

I am alone, I am alone, Eye am alone.

No need for anyone, or for phone, or sound, I exist in the resounding sound of down, of put down, deep underground.

I am the act of burrow, I am brow furrowed.

In a cave kind of like this, an abysmal abyss of pure dark bliss, kissed with grey of the act of away, she existed just in this, like this, in bliss.

The dark expanses of this place, painted her face with darkness, with space, with the act of erase, of space, of just exist, in this, pure bliss, death’s kiss.

In a cave that was painted with the power of the abyss,

She lived out her days of swimming in dark waters, and filling her mouth with their mucky dirt, in her world of hurt.

She was a sorrow filled creature, with a deep dark soul, that was like the painted cave, and with misery taking it’s toll.

She was devoted to sadness, it was her favorite drink, and with every sip, she would sit and she would think.

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.

This is how you looked to me, not how you appeared to others

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.

Paintings of Madness

I remember

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.

I am full of hot air

Not a question?

Clearly, can’t you see?

***hole.

Pole or I’d

What you thought

What you did

What you thought

What I did

He is a liar

I am away

Forever and ever forgotten forgetter

I hate you Just in time

I am no longer addicted to dimes

I am a lie, I am the truth, I found a way, I am so ruthless, you are a liar, you tried to remove me.

Mother****er.

You are still once in awhile trying to contact me.

HAHAHAHAHAHA

I win. I won. I win.

I am vengence, I am rage. I was in a cage, now I am always on a path away from you.

I love you baby, I love you sweety, I love you deeply, I loved you sweetly, ever and completely, I hate you hunny, I hate you so fully, so much

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.

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.

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.

You had my heart

You had my heart and you broke it in half, now looking back, I have to just laugh.

I am no longer resentful

That is a lie.

I know it is, but what am I?

You are a liar.

Thanks, knew that.

I can’t recover from that one, switch tracks.

---

I love you, and see you in everything I do, baby, sweety, honey, isn’t it so funny, when I do it right back to you, mocking you, mocking me, mocking you, and forever we go into the lane, of please baby, please, I am on my knees, stay with me forever and ever, I love you forever and ever, Lydia is divine, so truly and completely sublime.

Ode to 51/50

I am ever so nifty, so crafty

I am an ***hole, I love myself, I am forever, in love with a shelf, full of madness, of mixed drinks, and lost drugs, I am all acting like we are so so in love.

I love you so much, you are so great, you make me feel

I am head over heels, in love with anyone, who brings me out of this, out of resisting my own state of exist

I speak to you private, I speak to you in confidence, I speak to you in honest response which is unnatural for me, and you respond so naturally, and I did not realize it then, but realize it now, and am possessed with desire to in water drown, at the time, this was not possible, baby, oh baby, being where I was, and ever so crazy. I loved you darling, don’t care what they say, I wanted nothing, but with you to forever stay, but I was stupid and drowning in devotion, so I devoted my time, to one who tried to take me

DOWN
DOWN
DOWN

I am now living under

GROUND
GROUND

Well in a basement, really, or a bedroom, but I spend a lot of time, here, thinking of you, and wish I was with you drinking a beer.

****

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.

Fighting on Goddesses

Sea Goddess, Ocean Siren

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.

Painted with sadness

I am thinking about you and about breakfast in the morning and how I was always too high to eat it, and you made it for me.

And that kills me, because however much you and I hated each other at the very end, there was a time when you really loved me, or her, who you thought I truly was, thinking this part of me was addiction personified or something.

I really loved you once, in the way someone would love their best friend, because at one point you were my best friend too, and her boyfriend, and then you didn’t need a running buddy anymore, and wanted to be alone with her, and that is just not how it works, we are one person with two personalities.

A very sarcastic blast from the past, or me kicking my own ***

Tragic Magic, Sewn back, sown back, shatter, scatter, patter, matter

I am syringes filled with glitter paint

Glitter made me pretty, made me green. Glitter painted life so nice and sparkly and made everything a technicolor, beautific painted dream. Glitter made everything sparkle made me love your eyes, painted your face so pretty, painted mine with despise.

I am a horse of a different color.

I am a horse of a different color

I am a horse of a different color

Yellow brick roads painted with blackness of night, make little children run in fright. On roads I walked in shades of black and white, from those roads all people should fight the night and stay away from shades of grey or graying shades coming in shades at all, that make men think they are big or small.

On those roads, which I once did walk, my friends outlines lay on ground in chalk, and nightcrawlers are said to talk about addictions that took them away from families who live far away from the streets of brick that lay littered with madness, stolen from families lurking in sadness.

I am only here because I am not, I am fear saved only by someone else keeping me alive. I am two souls in one body, and one is half-dead.

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…

just hanging out

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???

I am the flower of devour.

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.

Whining is so unattractive it can’t be read, it is invisible instead.

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.

---

Miss labeled

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.

Fried Chicken

Label death, they already did, at eight, already dead, ticking, ticking, so thankful, so grateful, so sad, too bad, already gone, gone, gone.

---

Bright

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.

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.

Above Ground and the Sound of the Lurkers Below, Or the Slow Shouting of GO

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 dark, I am stark, I am vacant vacation from tragic elated state of decline

Toss me please, I am too quiet. I am addicted to the act of rioting sole, soul unsound, bound to condescending pretending to be okay,

Okay, yes please stay, so I can hate you, always and forever, be my friend, so we can fight about nothing over and over again.

I am addicted to the sound of my own voice, addicted to the idea that I had no choice, but to do exactly what I did,

RUIN MY **** life.

I shine with the act of this is mine.

I never look behind, I never look forward.

I am lilly pads, I don’t have eyes.

I can’t sit still, must make ill, must engage in perpetual

Dance

Dance

Dance

With dark fate, with my own hate, of myself, I don’t know why, don’t care anymore really, this was fun to write that is all.

Bite me.

Ever so slowly, as we walked, set together on a journey of talk-

In the going perpetually away, I became the state of mental decay, you told me once I could not feel, made me believe my thoughts unreal, your true intent indeed to steal any speck of sanity and make me deal

Tell me, sweetheart, how much you want me now… that I am so out of reach…………..

Only with you so every action could be controlled, and then in anger your frustrations you’d unload, get away from me, let me be, why can’t alone you desire to be?

Ever So Slowly, The branches fell

I was never even real to you, I was her mental illness, our device to get things you blame me for?

Our meaning you and me, because no matter how much you don’t like it, you were always with me, she was not real

and you knew this, you told me you knew this, and any pathetic denial is your attempt to hide feelings you have about your own self.

I asked you the same question, but I guess my words……………

They meant less than, anything you could ever do or say, now you see why I chose to go away.

″‘Precious, precious, precious!’ Gollum cried. ‘My Precious! O my Precious!’ And with that, even as his eyes were lifted up to gloat on his prize, he stepped too far, toppled, wavered for a moment on the brink, and then with a shriek he fell. Out of the depths came his last wail precious, and he was gone.”

J.R.R. Tolkein The Return of The King

“Misery misery! Hobbits won’t kill us, nice hobbits.”

J.R.R. Tolkein, The Two Towers

Do you see you?

Yes.

I see me too.

---

Put me in, try me on, I make everything easy.

I make life, black and white.

I make every fight yours.

Always and forever

You are the winner

Always and forever

---

And so we go, below….

I put things in that make my caring spread thing.

I put things in that make me want nothing else, except my own needs fulfilled to have my precious needs fullfilled.

I put on airs to make me not care when you touch me that way because it brings me closer to getting what I want, my precious…. my precious…..

I want you so my precious

Do you see me clearly now?

Do you see how

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSYYYYYYYYYYYY

It is…….to lose oneself…. in want…..

Where do you run?

If it kills me, it kills me.

If it kills me, I am stronger.

If it kills you, you are dead, and it won’t kill you, it has no hands.

It has a hand in my death.

That is because we let it.

To change, sparring change, not hands outtretched for hand outs

I run in Hell, well Misery but same thing, a spiritual pergatory of nothingness, of absence, that is what it is, they say in certain texts that the lack of the divine is Hell, that is what Misery is.

What do you run from?

Me.

You are the lack of the divine?

I am fear incarnate.

You are a human being experiencing fear, you are not fear or pain or death, but a human being experiencing those things.

Okay.

I miss a lot of things

Looking at the ground to make sure

I will not trip

Welcome to the path of my life, I am inner complicated strive, I am clearly’s soul cutting.

Are you green? Are you green? Whatever do you mean?????

I am talking to me.

I am talking to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The narrator hates themself.

The narrator needs to calm down.

The narrator hates themself.

Okay I feel better.

But really looking for rocks

Or darts to toss

In the trash, because you know it is my goal to

FOCUS ON EVERYTHING THAT KILLS ME

Stop it man, seriously.

Why? I am done anyway.

You are helping me,

Damien.

You are me, but you are also not, and you are helping me.

Thank you self.

I am a tile on the floor of time, I spent my life on pursuit of dime in bag, not diamond bag.

I know, I am having issues, I think it is just what my brain does.

Having a hard time being alone?

Yeah, kinda.

I am too.

Is that why you are talking to yourself on a dark screen?

***hole.

What?

Isn’t that what you are doing?

Yeah..

Then why am I an ***hole?

Because I hate it when you are right

You hate being right? I love being right.

That is why I am friends with myself.

Wow. Facts.

I am the Crow 2.

I am the crow too.

I am the crow to, as well, as an adjective of a human being who steals from other human beings while they are not looking.

I am the crow, two

There are two of me.

Welcome to Hell, Misery painted with wine, and whinning. no winning just whinning, from spendthrift dime stealers.

Penny for your thoughts?

No I am sparring not sparing change.

I am disdain, acid reign, wishing for soul washing rain.

Ahahahahahhhahahahhahhhahahahhahahahhahhahahhahahhahhahhahahah

I am the horrors of walking next to an active user.

I am the non-heroic heroin user.

I am resentment of past action.

I am true admissions of a soul attacking soul attacker

I am hopefully getting over this.

I am actively seeking forgiveness.

I know this comes from something higher.

But I am more comfortable crucifying myself.

I am more comfortable doing this to myself.

I need help.

ahhhahahhahhahhahahhhahahhahhahahhahhahahhahha

I have no tent, because I can fly so high, that I need not sleep, because I am high as Hades.

I am a looter of the looted by life, I am the riddler of strife.

I am the stealer of unwatched things, I am heroin addict, unwatched, on meth, stealing while you sleep to buy drugs.

I am the confessions of an ***hole, who is no longer on drugs.

I loved you once, but now I can’t and I don’t want to, so I don’t

I loved you multiple times, and still do, and I am just trying to be honest with you

Hey, ***hole, you’re talking to a glass.

I know…

I think I have a problem with peace, consumed with moving, digging perpetually beneath, unable to stop and not do, wishing always for something new, I can’t sit still, that is why I think I was obsessed with you.

Dragon eating its own tell, possessing nothing was just as well, I live in inner Hell, because I can’t bring myself out sometimes, uncomfortable with peace, living in internal, eternal, infernal mind bind.

I tied my own hands, behind my back, because I feel being free, and love the feeling of under attack.

Living in perpetual lack of self.

Bottled emotions of alcohol on shelf.

I can’t be myself, because myself was built around you, who am I even without the drugs and booze I used to use???

I got up early with you, my friend, the one who I was always fighting against, I realize now I was fighting me, engaged in constant battle of insanity, fighting light to see in dark, fighting vision on quest of mark, I fight you but in so doing, poision applies to skin, and reason spewing out of my mouth and from my head, wishing for life, but fighting the dead.

Questing for sun, but lurking in dark, I am the eternal question mark.

I fight truth, because I can’t look in the mirror

I forgot what I was talking about. Oh, well.

This is about powerlessness, your favorite thing, and water is cleansing.

OoO Look at you, show off.

OoO Look at you show off.

That is mature.

Says the most mature person in the world.

I enjoyed the Easter thing, did you?

I wasn’t there, you were.

Yeah, you were. You were just uncomfortable.

I can tell you are glad you won, stop rubbing my nose in it.

Stop thinking about putting things up your nose then.

I am an orange, I am a door. I am closed, laughing ripping away orange skin on bare floor.

I eat in Hell

You have severe issues.

So do you, I am you remember?

I don’t have the same issues.

Yes, you do, I am just not lying about mine.

So you think food and water are poison, and drugs and alcohol help you?

I am making fun of myself, because I realize how flawed my thinking is.

Oh, good one?

Yes, learning.

Thank you?

You’re welcome.

Do you climb the sky?

Yes, I do with my I.

I come from the ground, and clear I move, making loud sound.

I climb, I grow, creature of light, I climb the sky in star flight, in the light of stars, I dance for you, I am a lighting lightning storm, that quickly moves.

In the stars I frantic dance, and if watch, you gain the chance, to see the sky frantic ballet, of dancing legs of bones that play

In shoes of light without trap of skin, they dance in bones spread sky thin.

Untitled

The fire of firing fire

The fire of addict’s desire

I light my own funeral pyre

I am done, done, done

Unspun, undun.

So done.

This is all reflection

On a life retossed

I was blind, my whole life, I was blind lived in self-inflicted strife. I was blind. I was blind. I had no eyes, couldn’t see, I had eyes but they were blacked out, they were blurry, couldn’t see. I was blind couldn’t see. Clearly.

I walked through life, walking slow, walking fast, running away, running to, running from, running with, running, runnning, on nothing, no road, no path, nothing, nothing, nothing.

I was nothing. I was nothing.

I was nothing. I was nothing.

I was with him, I was with you.

I was ran. I was running.

On nothing, with someone who was me, who is me.

I ran to things, towards things, and for things.

Just elation, addicted to derived sensation. Nothing more, nothing less, no crime, just desire to injest.

In jest.

Paranoid.

Paranoid.

Who is annoyed with paranoid.

I am condescending. I

I, I, I,

am the human soul.

I am Amanda Fried by self.

I am life on selfish shelf.

ahahahhahhahahahhahahhaahhhahahhahahhahahahahhahhahhahahhhahahahhhhahahahhahahahhahhahhahahhahahhhahhahahhahhahahahahhahahhhhahhhahhahahhahhaha

Insanity comes in color.

I am paint by number.

She’s a family member, and I am Fruedian Slipping, and I am a liar, and the girl I am a part of is Crazy.

You are such a jerk.

I know, but it is called telling the truth, ***hole.

You are the ***hole.

I am telling the truth, so I don’t CARE.

Okay, fine, you can be okay with the fact that you were pretending to be dating my mother, who is your mother.

Ahahahahhahahahah you are a lunatic.

I am Macbeth.

I forgot which one of us is you again.

I am green with envy

I am green with sickness

I am green

I am mean

I am coming undone

I am no fun

I am sickness

I am addict.

I relate humility and humiliation, a lot because I always did. The root words are similar, and for me, until today actually they appeared to be the same thing, forced bowing, like someone had conquered me, or something… the spirit of the Spanish Conquerer, someone said something to me about my name and that. It hurt… but so does someone saying I have brown eyes, because everything hurts my feelings.

I was listening to someone say that I have to do a fearless moral inventory, and the thing is… I don’t know what the **** that even means because for me morality has always been enforced with fear, Spanish Catholic superstition.

It is funny, I was cleaning with Diane when the spider incident happened, and she got mad, and I think it was partly because she believed the spider to not be real, and even if it wasn’t what different does it make? I saw it, so even if it was unreal or real, is it any more okay or not okay if it is or isnt? I made a loud sound because I was genuinely afraid in that moment, of something I thought I saw.

Sometimes, others I see this.

See Clearly

I had a pair of shades once, they almost looked rosey, but a little off. They made things look a little fuzzy, like I was always a little bit blurry. They were called alcohol, I don’t think they were shades now that I think about it, I think normal people call them glasses, not the same thing I think… I think one you wear on your eyes and the other eats my mind.

I like crayons.

I am riddled with lack, I am the lack of soul, which comes with condescending attack. I am the power of demise, I speak with eyes of despise. I am misery in carnate raw form, I am dead man’s scorn. I am war torn. I am forlong, I am dark thorn, in shoe of human being with very precious heart. I am fear of start. I am the smart.

You are a liar, who has no soul to be on fire, and you will not get mine, you are death, and you can stay the HELL away from me, because I aim to breathe, I breathe breath that comes with shedding fear, and walking away from beer or heroin or crack or meth or weed or anything that makes me so afraid to be without it that I desire to talk to you at all, things that makes all things small, so it can be tall. You have no legs. You can’t stand without piggy backing on my back, herder of swine. You are mine, I am not yours.

Where do you run to? I ran in the dark, and it was nice, until I fell, and busted my knee.

This is who I fight, not Rei, this, strong trigger, this is raw, scary channeled nightmare.

I think of you every time I hear the peepers, not my you, the one I found on here that sounds like me, how I sounded when I talked to the burning rays of the sun, and thought I was talking to someone else, when I was really talking to resentmeant.

I married sin, it ate me from within.

I married hate, it made me quite irate.

I married wrath, it made me slay a calf.

I was really married to no one, we didn’t have the money, we spent it on heroin, if I had been married I would have been divorced 3 times.

3 strikes, I am out, of the game of slaying my exes with hexes online, because it is unkind and that puts my soul in a bind, with bought time, before I destroy me, and  run on bloody knee into a train, this really happened, so insane, I think in addict brain that I am running from something, and I was, a pitbull, metaphoric because this one I can’t say online, don’t have permission to, he chased me till I ran away, afraid he would take me

OUT OUT OUT

Of the state of being able to say anything about anything ever again

Drive me INSANE

Permanently.

I am the psych patient being told, you can’t be allowed out, unless someone signs for you, and unfortunately you can’t remember your name or who to have sign for you.

****

Run.

I can’t. I am stuck in here. I am stuck sitting in a chair next to a man who doesn’t know his name either, he thinks his name is Sand.

He told me this, and I told him, I like grains.

He likes me now.

I am okay with it here, but I like the SUN.

I am so sorry to the most high, not her, not me, but the nature that rests above me, the moon, the stars, everything I do not own, that I made mine when I said.

I have the right to steal everything, from everyone, to buy heroin.

I am so sorrry, but I don’t hate me anymore, because I have written my resentments out here, and they all reflect back at me, well clearly.

Clearly, clearly, look at me, I am spinning I am free, I hurt myself, by killing my friend in only metaphoric sense, but really I kill my heart, my soul, making me an aching hole.

I would divorce myself if I could. I would divorce myself if I could, I am the screaming liar, with soul on fire, who burned fires, set by me worshipping my own death.

Clearly can’t get me, I get my self. I drink bottle HIGH on shelf, I have cut ears of injured elf… it rhymed…

Hahahhahhahahhahhaahhahhahahhahha

no no no no no.

I am the soul keeper of my own, my precious because it rings so so so true.

Ode to Schizophrenia.

I worshiped Rah. I worshiped death. I worshiped anything that would keep me in

inner turmoil.

Churning oil.

Faker faker faker. Liar. I hate myself. I put my life in fires of HELL, metaphoric and very real, because I can burn, I can feel. I

am eye of tainted man, of woman too because I am too.

Never alone, never alone, I am never alone. Always here with me. Always at my own face, screaming, I hate you.

I am the eater of Damien’s soul, I am MISERY. I EAT HIM WHOLE.

Ahhahahaahahhahahhahahahha

You can’t get me, I forgave myself.

Trigger Warning: This is another poetic metaphor post, none of these people are real, all material is poetic metaphor, used to illustrate the nature of drug addict/alcoholic relationships. I am writing this because I promised myself to not write anymore negative on here, which this is, but it came to me this morning, and I think I am supposed to write it on here, to show there are not bad people just those sick with the disease of addiction.

This takes the darkest form of the sickness, and is why I used this poetic metaphor. I knew people like the characters I portray in this post, or knew of them, there is great darkness on the streets, I have seen it, and am trying to save others from having to see it as well. This is why I have the Dante’s Inferno category now, the seventh circle of Hell, is cheaters, liars, and other damned souls, like the ones I write about in this post.

Enter Misery.

I know Easy, she was fun and free, she was my baby, my sweet divine, lover of the human bind. I loved Easy…

She was CRAZY

CRAZY

CRAZY

Do you scare Easy, yes I do, I love your girlfriend, she’s so gooooood to you….

Let her play with me…

Easy, baby, you are such a nice lady, your husband loves you, so much, it makes him

CRAZY

You want me honey, that is good, give me your items, we are good, and I will make him sure regret every time he hit you and I bet, that we can all be friends, and you will see, how much better you will be,

BECAUSE OF ME.

I am debt. I am lend, I am let me sleep on my couch, I am your FRIEND.

Very dark: I am very depressed read with caution please, nothing I say on here should be taken with a grain of salt, I am writing this to get this out of my own head.

I was writing the title for this post, about the idea of suicide, and came to the realization, that if anyone who is like me thinks about this, this is why people say that we unfortunates, spoken about in recovery can be saved by the hand of a higher power, and suceed only with acknowledging that. I usuaully hate this idea, but to be honest, right now I am very close to jumping off a cliff, metaphorically, really because I am not a very courageous person, quite the opposite really, and if I were to do anything rash or irrational, I would just go back to do heroin, which I don’t want to do, because I don’t want to, and in that I suddenly see the hand of God.

I am thankful at this moment for that, and the truth of the whole thing is apparent to me in a way that makes it completely irrelevant if regular society, right now Diane, agrees with me.

**** Diane.

I am done with Diane.

I am done with all of it, just not my life.

I guess, I just wait around, resigned to the fact that I have no power to do or say, or change anything, and stop listening to ****ing Diane, who seems to without knowing it be on a mission to make my life a living Hell.

I am the caged dog.

Thinking they are smart,

An individual drives to an animal shelter, they are a good dog trainer, having trained many dogs, of all kinds. They drive to an animal shelter, and adopt a dog. The dog has a history of being used to rescue people from burning buildings, but has hurt its leg, so it is no longer useful for its job, and was put up for adoption, out of kindness.

The dog seems nice enough, it sits scared in the corner, but responds nicely to anyone who comes to see it, however it remains in its corner.

A brave soul adopt the dog, takes it home, and it does well except it refuses to sleep in the spot desired for it.

It instead sleeps right by the door to backyard. Thinking, themself clever, the new owner tries to re-train the dog. They want only for it to experience comfort, unknowing of what discomfort is caused by the re-train process, they begin to try to change the nature of the dog.

It takes one month for the owner to re-turn, unsure of why the dog was so good at first, but when presented with normality it slowly slipped into “untrainability”.

All you had to do was let it sleep by the door

Which it did because it had been used to being in burning buildings

And found comfort in being by the exit

Why do the “normal” find it comforting to force the abnormal to be them?

This is uncomfortable for us.

If we are allowed to be

We can recover

Do not try to change us

It harms us

Which aspects do you think makes a person unique?

I am very sorry for the negativity that may be injected heh. into this post. I am still very angry.

I am the viewpoint of the vicious defender.

I am unique, but a very good pretender.

I start with I, but deny that I am self-assertion.

I start with I but deny will assertion.

I need to you to hear, but pretend it is different, I pretend you aren’t listening by using the word listen.

I know that you care, but say you do not.

I pretend that you don’t feel, but see tears I sought.

I start with I because I am selfish, cast all on shelf is my only wish,

So to you, I say, you want to place me with your bottles? Sorry, not part of that world, and you know this, can tell that you’re throttled.

You know longer have power here, I just pretend that you do, giving you bully pullpet when I need nothing from you.

You can take nothing from me, I have all that I need, you have nothing to steal, you have blood you can recieve, you have no way of getting even with me, there are no holes, you can poke, because there are no pins left in me.

I am free.

I am unique.

I am a human being

You are free.

You are a human being.

If you don’t leave me alone, I will leave and be alone.

I am free.

I am a human being.

In detail, tracing their outlines over and over in my mind, as I hide, a bush person of falsehood, cast into the bushes by my own chaotic decisions. In these moments I have come to know the trees, and bushes in a way unique to being a forest dweller, or so I like to think, it being better to think that way then to identify with other culture of the woods, which litters the grounds of nature with bottles, in a flagrant disrespect of the loving hands that cradle and cushion our hiddenness with kindness, and bird songs.

The chaos that pollutes these places of sanctity, sickens me. Polluted as they are by creatures of simular making to me, I feel compelled to do something, so I come to these places sometimes, and talk to the trees, thinking it better to talk to them than myself.

**** it, I am losing my mind.

I am not sure if I am, or if something is just changing. I have two competing sensations

1. I am losing my mind, permanently

2. My mind is finally fixing itself

I am not sure which one is accurate.

I am not sure of anything right now.

I have begun to feel comfortable actually, which makes me think I am in the process of awaiting some strange horrific malady. I will tell you this, I do not ****ing like this, and it is very ****ing uncomfortable.

Although, I think my family is doing better, I am using my powers of mental insight for good finally. I have started doing weird things to help my family get along better. I wrote a note to one of them that solved a dispute that they had with each other, and now they are getting along better. That is all I will say on this website about that, because I no longer have the gift of anonymity. I gave one of them this website address as a way for one of them to find out more about me..I had been gone for 7 years using and drinking on the streets, and in various hotel rooms, other situations.

Stream of Consciousness

If you could have something named after you, what would it be?

I really just wanted to make the Lord of the Rings joke. That is the whole reason for this post really. I have been trying to find some reason to make a Lord of the Rings joke all day, because I love Lord of the Rings. Which is funny because I have only ever read the Hobbit, and never finished the series, because I am lazy. I have a hard time reading anything that is not a horror story because it is the only style that holds my attention.

I think that is because it is the only style that competes with the horrific images, that are my imagination, which is horrible. I think that might not be my fault though, I think it might be PTSD. I just noticed how often I use the word fault, or blame, and it is a little bit disturbing. There are a lot of times I use this and it is not even something that involves fault or blame. I don’t know why I do this.

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2023/04/01/weekend-writing-prompt-305-unrepentant/

She is crying, loudly, and annoyingly. I am tired of this ****. She keeps chanting almost, like an incantation,

Unrepentant Addict

like saying this will have any effect on me whatsoever… God has no patience for unrepentant addicts. I know this, my life has not been a life riddled with anything but pain, but I will stay the course. I will not let you beat me, you will leave first, that’s assured.

Oh, now you can’t talk suddenly, well good, at least this helps clarify what the *** is going on here. Leave me alone, **** it.

I need to get on my medication.

What now? I wrote down your stupid thing you were saying at me **** it.

You are always alone.

I am trapped in my own head.

I know, I am working on it… wait why am I still typing to you, get the **** out of my head.

I am no good, I am never should, I am pain, I am rain, I am soul disdain, I am decay of brain, sentenced to life down drain, I am schizophrenia, I am a temporary dissent into a world that presents itself to haver, as permanent, I am mind altering, I am soul daunting, I am fixable with hope and therapy, but I am daunting, taunting, draining and disdaining haver, I make the mad madder, and the sad sadder, do not climb death’s ladder, be free, through love and therapy. You are more than me.

I am from the land of trees, I make men beg on their knees, I am request to baby, please, don’t do it!!!!!!!!! I am disease of sick infested mind, I plague man and woman throughout time, I am not of sound, but infection of rejected mind. I am not kind, but develop in those who are bound by

PAIN

Diseased Brain

Disdain in

INSANE MIND

You will never find anything, like me, I am so free, living impossibly in a land that

DOESN’T EXIST.

I am death’s kiss,

I am paranoid schizophrenia.

What are you looking at honey?

I am standing at the dock, staring out over the water, mesmerized by the way the moon paints the waves with light.

I am cold, not prone to waking up with jackets on, not sure why this is, but I am shaking, but it is alright because it is keeping me aware.

I am listening to a conversation that I am not sure,

Yes, it is real..

I feel hate running red, through my veins, through my entire body, unsure of the exact nature of this, I am aware that it relates to my passenger, Amanda.

She hates this woman, that I can hear now, her voice grating, she’s bragging about something, why would she? Why would she be shouting about drugs outside in the middle of the night? Understood. I get it. This person is a ****.

I am unsure of what the expectation is of my borrowing this body, I think they just didn’t want to be here right now, so screw it. I am going to the convenience store.

This is really annoying.

Yeah, for me too. They hurt for me too.

I am realizing I no longer care which one of us is talking.

So you stopped trying to keep track?

Me too by the way, it is so much more peaceful, haha, I almost spelled that peiceful. INSANITY.

Yeah, I would say so, or just that you can’t spell?

I can ****ing spell, better than you.

So insanity is more comfortable than inability to spell, interesting.

**** you.

The real deal

If you don’t want it, let me use it?

No.

We had a deal, and you said you would let me use it at least sometimes? Remember that? I save your life, and I get to a person sometimes???

I know, but you’re going to **** up my life.

You’re life is already ****ed up, and no I am not. I am just going to.. look I don’t know what I am going to do… but we had a deal, and don’t be an ***hole. I shouldn’t have to explain to you what I do, as much as you shouldn’t have to explain what you do.

It’s my body.

Wrong. It was your’s and then I saved your life, in exchange for you use of human form.

That’s ****ed up.

You made the deal.

I know and now I regret it.

Well, it’s reversable.

How?

I kill you right here, right now, where you stand.

Seriously???

No.

Fine, that was funny, so take it, but don’t give it back with tickets, and this time don’t leave and leave me in jail to pick up peices.

Drunk in public is not even a serious charge.

I don’t care, waking up in a flooded cell naked, sucks.

I don’t like wet clothes.

Neither do I.

Fine, deal?

Yeah, see you later.

It’s all for you, Damien.

The Omen

Daily writing prompt

What’s something most people don’t understand?

View all responses

I have being having a hissy fit my whole life about having to be someone I am not. I am not Rei Clearly, I am not Amanda. I am me. I am this, I am Damien, take it or leave it.

I should have said that the whole time, instead of saying I was a violent person or a psycho. I am merely just a very angry person, but really only at myself, for never standing up for myself, for drinking and using about something I did to me.

I am done with it, I know I have said that, but I am putting this on here, so I have to look at it, every time I try to word vomit negativity.

I was happy with her, with a different girl, she accepted me, she was the same as I was…. we both had paranoid schizophrenia. I loved her truly and deeply, I was just insanely ****ing stupid, and got pissed one day because she ripped me off…and that obviously matters more than anything right? Stupid…….. I left and went over to Rei’s or whatever she calls herself…….

I left because she offered to get high with me…****ing great reason… to leave someone right? Some else has free ****. I didn’t want to admit this to myself… that it was all about that. We had two dogs. I left my dog and my girlfriend for another person who said they had always loved me, but more importantly offered to help me on a day when my ex had ripped me off. So I slept with someone else because they gave me free ****. So I deserve this… I deserve her leaving me for someone else, because I did the same thing.

That is what made me turn my **** around. I am out. I am disgusted with myself, with my choices, my life and everything I did to myself and those around me. She even offered to take me back, and Rei offered me **** to stay. So I stayed, like a dog, then we ripped off every single one of our friends and left the area and lived on the streets for 4 years until we almost died out there of freezing to death, and I will leave the rest of that one for later.

I am so tired of the whole thing. I am finding peace in being away from all of this, I think it is ironic that a drug named for a misspelling female hero makes people the opposite of heroic. I am such a piece of ****.

You want all my booze, it’s a handle, take it. I don’t need it, I don’t want it. I don’t need to feel okay, you can have it, it is yours, I am going to vomit, my heart is sore, it’s so important, I am not someone you loved, you just want substances not me, I hate this, I would have quit, I would have done it, but you had a fit. You want my ****, not my heart, don’t even ****ing start, don’t make this anything other than what it is.

I am not high. I am not high. I am just drunk as ***, I am not buying you anything. GO TO ****. I quit. I quit. I quit.

Take everything I own, I am going the **** home. I don’t want to drink anymore anyway.

They won’t help you. I saved you. Let me die alone.

I want to die alone. I am hanging up the phone, go be sober and clean. I am too ****ing mean to let myself live. Your soul is saved.

From Me,

Misery’s slave

I said kill me baby, would you please? I am on my freakin’ knees, begging honey would you dare, let me touch your pretty hair? I love you baby, don’t you know, do you really have to go? I want you badly, miss you greatly, have been thinking of you lately, so I say honey please answer me, I miss you so, won’t you please, please, please,

PICK UP THE PHONE

Don’t leave me here alone, I am sorry, I was drunk, I didn’t know what I thunk, I don’t know what I said, I was silly, soul so dead, please call me back back back

My soul I attack attack attack, tell me what I said, to make your eyes, oh so read, please please please.

I will stop drinking **** it. I swear I am done. This isn’t fun anymore.

I am looking at you, and wonder how you do that?

That standing upside down thing? That standing inverted thing?

How did you make the world flip over?

I don’t get it…

Please come closer..

I also would like to know…

Why my legs hurt and feel like they may go

Out from under me….

Any minute…

I can see you know by your grimace…

You seem to know something I do not…

Now please tell me….

My face is hot with…

Worry…

Please…

I can’t feel…

My.. knees…

Let go, your hanging upside down from a tree. The ground is right below you, let go, and it will catch you, you can even touch it, just open your eyes, you have your eyes shut, you are seeing things not there, your eyes are shut, open them, and get down from hanging upside down.

Oh.

Thank you.

Daily writing prompt

What’s a secret skill or ability you have or wish you had?

View all responses

I sometimes wish I had the ability to inflict on people the way I experience empathy, the flashes of visions of what I imagine their life to be whenever they are not around me- a paranoid schizophrenic version of The Green Mile, the mile being green in this analogy because it is green with envy, experienced in me, someone experiencing false envy, because I am not really envious of normal people.

I sometimes wish I had the ability to fly, to get away from all of this, to fly to a place far away from anyone I know, who hurt me so much every day, by not realizing the things I think are so obviously right in front of their face.

I sometimes wish I had the ability to time travel, to go throughout time like a visitor, uncommitted to anyone and everything, dancing through a life that is not mine or anyone else’s that is devoid of human relationships in any way, including any toxic ones.

Most of the time, I wish I could be invisible, so I could leave unnoticed, every time I wish I could do so, without anyone being able to stop me, with some offered explanation of why I should not leave.

In the past, I have wished I could be Magneto, a super villain able to bend matter, to make it not matter.

Right now, I wish I could be Storm. I would love to have the ability to manipulate weather, in a metaphorical way, being able to control my own mental storms, but also physical able to bring about soul cleansing and body cleansing rain.

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/19271780/posts/4623530678

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2023/03/26/sunday-confessionals-the-sun/

I burn human skin.

I seer, penetrate, and wear thin.

I also divide day and night, I break, I shed light, I am a divider, a shadow boxer, intoxicating, so elating, soul frustrating, so frustrating….

Focus point,

Pointed at you, who thinks of dark poison, poised to focus on death, I am clearly’s soul death, and resurrection as a phoenix, fire bird, made heroic, died with heroine, and fire driven to be something else, but life on shelf, with bottles that are empty.

I am your sun, your moon, the stars, telling you it is okay, to step into the light of day.

Trigger Warning: Themes include drugs, alcohol, resentment, and struggle to become more placid through surrending my will to a higher power.

I used to watch this movie about a crocodile when I was a kid, and everyone else would sit there scared, not only at the crocodile, but at the fact that I thought it was funny, to see people getting ripped into peices. I would sit there laughing like the hyenas in the Lion King, because I hated those around me so much for being born normal, while I was born with all this **** wrong with me.

I would imagine that the crocodile was killing them, slaying my enemies, for having been given the grace of something I thought specifically hated me. I imagined how easy it would be to placid, if I only were them, that they did not know the unique struggles I had faced, and that was why it was okay, just for me to do whatever I wanted, like steal booze from my mom, when I was 12, and sometimes drink booze I stole when no one was looking at Christmas, or try to get people at Christmas to let me smoke cigars.

I started drinking heavily when I was 18, and continued drinking heavily, until I thought I could not do it well anymore, without aide from sedatives, and uppers to balance the sedatives, and then of course, my best friend alcohol. This was when I was 28.

I started doing heroin and meth, when I was 28, is what I am saying here. That is a lie. I tried meth for the first time when I was 21, but started regularly using it when I was 30. I would occasionally do it whenever it was available since I was 18.

I once had someone pay me for an adventure in a motel with it, when I was 21. I stayed up all night with them, and got paid to stay up all night with them.

This is what I have come to realize through stepping away, towards a sober more placid life style. I was getting paid to be high by doing things I had to be high to do.

Misery cycle.

Mercy cycle is harder.

I like meditating on a higher power better now. Much more placid lifestyle.

https://wordpress.com/tag/ragtag-daily-prompt

I am crazy, so my brain can do interesting things, like simulate feelings that make me feel like I am…

Far far away on a very elevated hill,

and walking down the hill feels as bad in real life as walking down a steep hill would in elated life.

I feel like garbage right now, and it is all because I flipped out for I don’t know how long… I am not sure… would have to look back through this, and I don’t think that is a good idea..

I am just going to move on for once…

Here’s to walking forward instead of staring backwards at back words.

“If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it.”

Willy wonka

Seventh Circle: Middle ring: In this ring are the suicides, who are transformed into gnarled thorny bushes and trees.

Dante Alighieri, Dante’s Inferno

I am the time breaker of minds, the dealer of time in items, for the price of penny for your thoughts-

YOUR THOUGHTS ARE NOW MINE

How does it feel baby? Is it making you a little… crazy?

No, it’s not…..

I am……..

I like dimes… dimes are neat… I make dimes on the street… I don’t eat because meat is toxic… I like consuming……

METH

From them

Funny spelling, does it speak to you sweetheart?

You are so clever speaking to me with MY voice.

It’s his voice, you are nothing.

It’s my voice.

Sweet. A 20… I make more money when I sound funny… hahahahahahahah..

Look at me, I can run through life so free, no need of sleep or fear of pain, no wonder my life is

DOWN THE DRAIN

End transmission.

https://www.aagrapevine.org/sobriety-calculator

This is really important me now, because I have realized I like all of the people I am talking to on here, and what an *** I was before doing all of this so I am going to periodically post this on here, to keep myself in check, because who knew…. people before me knew things about how to do this…. I am such an…….. ***

I am really starting to enjoy life now, which is awesome. I never thought I would enjoy anything as much as being ****ed up beyond recognition.

Thank you to all of the people who have kept me going.

Damien

Explanation: I saw a bunch on the work on your page, and you inspired me. I have been struggling over the past couple days with thoughts of suicide. Your work on your site, helped me keep going, thank you for being one of the ones responsible for saving my life, yesterday.

Your BooknVolume https://booknvolume.com/ speaks volumes to me, in the words you cast to this dark screen, in them… kindness reflects off and gives peace,

I see your reaction and see what I lack, when I am drawn to lament and to attack, everything you say on your page,

A medication for my meditations on making self pay over and over to bend over in rage.

Through your help I see misspell enrage.

You are more wise than me, you see.

I can’t see anything clearly.

Thank you for bringing this to light for me.

You have brought me peace, for the second and for that and the light through which beckons

on me a little grace,

I am so glad you helped me

by replacing erase with a picture that

Helps me stop hating my damn face.

and taking me out of this…