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.
Explanation: I am Damien, I speak to my split personality Amanda. I am two people in love with each other, and I am okay with that now.
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.
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.
Category: dual diagnosis
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?
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.
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.
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.
I think they can still tell what the word is, Amanda.
I know they can still tell what the word is, that is kind of the point, all the word none of the guilt.
Isn’t that cheating?
Yes, not the point.
That is the entire point.
I think you might be right.
Emotional maturity is not usually my thing, this is kind of cool for a change. Hahahah!
Good job ruining it.
My mother is the most supportive person in my life, she is the one of the ways I even figured out I was transgender to begin with, she knew before I did, and when I was very depressed after quitting drugs and alcohol, she talked to me about the whole thing and helped by listening to me talk about how I felt. She didn’t suggest anything, just listened, actively and asked me questions, and I figured out the reason I was drinking and using had a lot to do with trauma from having hydrocephalus and various traumatic things like my house burning down, etc. and the fact that I was not accepting who I was.
I literally said out loud to her,
how I am going to be with men if I can’t forget who I am, and pretend to be a girl?
She helped me realize that one of the reasons I used, one, not the only one, was that I was denying who I was.
The woman referred to in the archives of this site as Diane, is my mother, who is with her husband for the weekend at the ocean. She is my best friend, the only one who stuck with me through my insanity and drug and alcohol chaos. I hope to talk to her soon, because the morning is awkward without her. We usually hang out in the morning and make eachother laugh. I thought of a couple jokes that only she will get.
And now this.
I am a bird with a song, and I sing for you, I am up all day long, doing what birds do, I sing not for you, but for them, but it makes no difference, if you listen all day long, I sing with relentlessness.
I am a word used in a weird way.
Though I am small, on closer look, I am off the hook, I have everything I need, from the air to breathe, a planted seed, which brings forth my life, and the nutrients in the ground, brought by beings of sound mind.
I am a plant, and used to live in a garden, with my friends, I was placed one day, when they ripped me out, in a bulb, without any roots, a bulb, that was not one that grows, but instead of those for lamps.
I do not know, how or why, just fear that one day I may die, there is not rain or sun in here, so I know one thing, quite clear, I depend on those around, those in the realm that uses sound.
They cannot hear me because I can’t scream, so I hope, and sometimes dream in waves, I hope they get me the water and light I crave.
I then discover it comes right through, and that they know what they do, the soil here, has nutrients, too.
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.
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.
I am getting good at this, baby. You can leave now.
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 made this sarcastically for you, and for whoever likes sarcasm.
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
My soul burns for you baby, you make me so ****ing happy.
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.
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
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
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 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.
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.
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.
I am reading something that made me think of you, and how you talk to yourself, and how we talk to each other, even though it is mostly joking, you are always being mean to yourself, and saying things before other people get a chance to say them. The things you say about yourself even if they are sarcastic are usually mean, please stop doing it.
It is force of habit, and the voice of the other person that lives in our head.
I know it’s force of habit, but please try to stop doing it. I am going to try to stop doing it to. I like you, and you like me, leave it at that for now.
I think we should try writing positive things to each other, maybe I can do it that way. It is hard for me to say anything positive about me.
I am a polaroid.
I am really just annoyed.
No, take that back, I am overjoyed, elated really, because that is how I am supposed to be isn’t it?
I am supposed to have an attitude of gratitude right????!
I prefer honesty right now, and right now I feel like I got screwed by the universe, wrong body, that has emotional issues, hydrocephalus, hormone issues, arthritis, no gallbladder, nerve damage, knee problems, I lost interest in listing these, but believe me it goes on.
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 ****.
I just thought that was a funny title, I like plays on words. I have been in a *****y mood because of chronic pain, from arthritis in my hands, it runs in my family and is made worse by me typing like a lunatic, and also the amputations of the tip of my thumb, part of my middle and index finger, that is due to heroin, meth and alcohol abuse.
I also have had probably 20 revisions of a VP shunt because I have hydrocephalus, so I am getting used to my normal pain level while not doing meth, heroin or drinking. I have never been sober/clean in my adult life, so I apologize for my continuous neurosis, complaining.
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…
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…
I am a leaf in a box.
I am a leaf in a box.
I am a leaf in a box.
My nerves die places that I want them to not, and the rest of my body is on fire, and I am not allowed to have peace, and I don’t know why?
And mysteriously, I am alone, now, and the annoying female screaming voice, that shares my body with me is gone, because she in fact is everything I belief her to be.
What a whiney bitch like you? Is that what you want to say, master of nuerosis? Is that what you need to hear right now??
I need to hear nothing.
Then why are you talking to yourself on a black screen.
I was trying to talk to someone else, who hates you.
Oh, sick burn.
Thank you, Damien.
You’re welcome, Amanda
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.
I am not normal, and it makes some people very uncomfortable, so I decided when I was a little kid to pretend to be normal so everyone could be comfortable, and I wouldn’t make anyone unhappy.
Misery loves company, it loves friends, look at me, look at me, I am so much like you, can’t you see? Can’t you see?! I am so much like you, I do everything you do.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! I am so much like you. I do everything you do. I am everything you are. I do all the same things, and have the same types of reactions that you do. 4
I learned how to be so very,
AL Liar, liar, soul on
Burn me out, I am the life of body without soul, the only toll for a life lived inside a gaping hole of soul ripped out, by the act of scream and shout.
I am disdain, I am drain, I am in intense physical pain.
You are a whiny bitch.
You are a bitch period, and you deal with nothing, you just sit there and laugh at me while I complain.
At least I laugh, and you just complain.
You laugh at someone being in pain, and that is somehow an upgrade to what I do?
I hate you.
I know, I hate you too, that is why I am trying to force you to leave by being intolerable.
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.
She is my female street name.
Thank you for clearing that up.
She is also who used to be in love with you, when I was completely insane.
Is that why she sounds like my ex-wife.
Yes. This is all completely insane.
You mean we are completely insane.
We panhandled a nickel, a nickel, a nickel, we are rascals, and got it quickly, so we need to make a quick decision what to do? What to do?
Oscar needs a nickel. Oscar needs a nickel, it is just a nickel. Give oscar the nickel.
That chick over there said she would sell me a dog for a hundred bucks.
That chick over there is a liar, and she is just going to rip us off. Give oscar the **** nickel, we will make another one.
What if this one is lucky, and we need it to make more.
Give Oscar the nickel Lydia. It is just a damn nickel.
What was that?
I can hit below the belt too, that is what that was.
I guess so, thank you.
Okay, I guess that is all I have to say.
I am faceless, I am formless, I am forlorn, I am reality scorned, by hating my face, my human forn, I am tearing, wearing, blarring, self-hatred, eating at my own skin, I am resent, everything I am, the skin I am in.
I am screaming chaotic soul tearing of the form I am wearing, and forced to be in. I am loving something higher, but hating me, I am resentment meant specifically at me, I am why won’t she let me be.
You are pathetic, you are weak, you all that….
SHUT THE **** UP. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be the one who feels like you are divorced from your own human form???! Do you really? Do you think I am the lucky one? Do you really? I don’t think you do, because if I was you, I would sound just as pathetic as you do.
Yeah, I know I win.
I am good, and you?
I am fine, do you want to go to the appointment, or should I?
You do it, you are better at filling me in than I am at doing it.
I am not even going to say it.
I know, I know, oh and joke on purpose.
We are ridiculous, and most of the things on the page have been borderline ego masturbation.
I think schizophrenia is more appropriate.
Add vice, advice, add vice, ad vice
I am the creation of vice, through not taking advice, but instead adding vice, resentment
Or reason meant for getting betterment
better meant, betterment, a seperation, the constant situation, of my brain, oil and vinegar, bitterness, seperated naturally, by a brain that is good at alone, but awful at being party to togetherness.
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.
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.
I know, this is weird, I am going to stop embarrassing myself online…
I keep thinking about you?
I don’t know, lonely.. I guess… so how are you?
I am alone, but unlike you, I don’t go laying all personal insecurities all over the internet, so people feel sorry for me.
I don’t do it so people feel sorry for me.
I find that hard to believe.
I am not as pathetic as you think I am.
You mean not as pathetic as you make yourself look.
I know, that was a good one.
Yes, it was.
Zingers for swingers.
Yes, I don’t know why, other than when people ask me my pronouns, I am always tempted to say…
“You can call me whatever you like.”
Like we used to?
Yeah, exactly like that, except maybe minus the whispering in the ear part.
Well, obviously because I don’t think you are able to get that physically close to people.
Yeah, or on…..
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
My life is a mess,
I am now cleaning up.
My walls are wreck, I am scrubbing the walls, with the soap of recovery, maybe the stains will come off.
It will take awhile, but I trust it will work, with the power of realizing I have been such a jerk.
I trust something higher, than I could ever be, with that power I run forward, trusting it makes me free.
I see with blind eyes, I was a liar, I was a thief, I speak of madness, with eyes that were beseeched, consumed by addiction, plagued by lack, they saw nothing but soul under attack, they did nothing, but pace through blank space, slave to addiction, aiming to erase.
They were the eyes of a blind man, a person addicted, they saw nothing at all, they were plagued by a calling, and ever present, siren song.
I am ironic, my existence was pained, drawn to a calling to dive down the drain.
Now I am different, in way less pain, I am getting there by resolving the still present conflicts in my addict brain.
I am a ghost, and you can see me, I exist in blank space, so wonderous and free, you envy me, but I envy you, you have hands made of matter, and I wish I was you.
You don’t like your form, but at least that you have, I do not have earthly hands, and for that I am sad.
If I was you, sir, I would take great care, because what it is like to have no form, of that I am aware, I wander this hall, where I lay trapped, and chased by other formless spirits, I remain attacked, I am a ghost, took my life, yes I did, I was afraid to live life with my kid. I was once human, but commited suicide, now I wish, I had done anything but die.
I am a warning, a sad tale, I am, I took my life, and now here I stand, I regret doing what I did with my life, now I pace back and forth, a victim of strife, I am a warning, to not do the same, I wish I hadn’t, my life was my claim, I took my life, and exist only as me, I am not a judgement of those like I see. I am only a statement, to you
I am a statement to look twice before you leave, you cannot take it back, when your hands attack your own form, I wish I could, now I am forlorn, so please think twice, and don’t act rash, I killed myself, and now live in the backlash.
My cat was just on my roof. He got chased up there by this other local stray, that we feed because we feel bad for it. It is not a nice cat though, we just think that, nice cat or not, this case being not, everything deserves to eat. The cat comes for three meals a day to an outside food bowl. My cat or our cat, is afraid of the cat that comes to the food bowl, who is jokingly named the Interloper.
Our cat just avoids the other one, most of the time, but was out all night.
I think in the middle of the night the Interloper chased our cat up a tree, and then fearing coming down our cat jumped onto the roof instead, and was up there crying when we found him.
It was fairly easy to get him off the roof.
Just thought I would share that, because it made me laugh.
I am touched with blare, glare, re-colored from grey despair, I am looking at this from different chair, and it looks not half bad, not half good, because I am looking back.
The act of being with a person forever, looks not half bad too, if I didn’t have to be with someone I hated, if I didn’t have to be in denial of my own reality.
Look at me, look at me, so wonderous and free.
You really should stop doing that.
You sound like an ***hole when you do that.
No I just sound like we are happy to not be with that ******* you were with before.
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.
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.
They spoke to me, I talked to rocks, to stones, to pillars, to rock formations, which are not usually talkers, but this time they were, on that hill, that day with her.
Telling their story, they spoke quite softly, they talked at night, and quite darkly. They spoke of death and of loss they had seen, they spoke in voices, like in a dream. It was quite strange, and out of place, being reality, and not dream space, they spoke to me, and told a story, it was of magic, and not gory, not like the other stories, that I already knew, and so I sat, and knew not what to do.
I dare not wake her, lest make them made, she woke anyway, and I felt bad, why must she miss all I see, she was asleep and in a dream.
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.
You make me happy
You make me sad
You make me angry.
I want you so bad.
I look at you, and I see us, look at you, you make me trust, that I was wrong, the whole **** time, you could be mine, you are so sublime, you are great, and I love you dearly, you are so beautiful, I speak sincerely.
I love you baby, you bring me joy, you are perfect, for you I am
Perpetually in love, you are morning dove.
Oh watermelon mixed drink, I loved you so, why oh why, did you have to go, and be bad for me, and ruin my life, I am so sad, it cuts like knife, in my liver, and makes me sick, but hold you tight still I wish, I could do it, but I can’t, I am an
Alcoholic, with no self-control, everything I touch, just eats my soul, I can be addicted to anything, even digging a hole.
Daily writing prompt
What’s one small improvement you can make in your life?
I am a moron. I just ran around for a half hour, cursing because I couldn’t find a nicotine vape.
Nothing is about me, everything is about you, I love you so much, love everything you do, if I speak this way, with this kind of language, no one will see the truth of why I live in anguish.
Nothing is about me, everything is you, I love everything you do, would do anything for you, everything I do is great, sorry you cannot relate, I am over the moon, beaming with perfection.
I live beyond detection.
Sole on fire, of my shoe, step on me, make me a prisoner, I do not desire to be free, I live beyond blame, beyond shame, life in vein.
Heroin, heroin, hear me talk, I am addiction, I love to stalk.
I have already done it, it is complete, I have already started, I am on running fete. Defeat is in sight, so is victory, I am on a daily quest, and always will be, I eat with a spoon, no longer shoot fire, I am on a quest, to evade drug empire.
I am seeking to be, so joyous and housed, so free from madness, no longer a louse.
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 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.
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?
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…
She glowed with radiance she glowed with dark, she glowed with shadow, she glowed with the power of heart, she was so sad, her face was marked with tragedy and abandoned heart, her dog had no name, she knew no call, she followed her owner anyway, girl who was tall, both in stature and in tale, she was a liar, who was prone to fail, addicted to fiction and tall tales,
I am Shelia, that is my name, I am a Shelia, a girl, a dame.
A man of soot told me a lie, and now wolf, do I cry.
I played with fire, and he hurt me bad, stole my dog, now I am sad.
I am the functional drug addict, I am myth, a lie, something to shield your eye from the fact that you are a drain on your own life, an addiction not just to drugs, but to strain, to the addiction of
MAINTAIN MAINTAIN MAINTAIN
Hampster wheel of run away
AWAY AWAY A WAY
To seperate self from flames burned on spoons on the street, candles lit for people still sick and suffering, who are dead before you have a chance to meet them….
I am gold, I am pretty, I am neat, I am clean.
Whatever do you mean, that is mean… I am doing just fine, I am golden, baby. I am maintaining mine, you may need help but I do not… I am okay with burning spoons, and keeping all my bowls hot as fire
Fire fire fire
Burn yourself, I am okay with hiding bottles on the shelf.
I am okay okay okay
Please go away.
I did and she stayed there, sitting probably in the same chair, forever and ever, in the life of fog get her.
Fog Get Her
She tells me I am an alcoholic, drug addict, and spits on me, when I ask her for some change, I tell her that’s strange, because she is high on the same drug, and she look in the ****ing mirror if she wants to insult anyone. I pretend it doesn’t bother me, but it does, enough that I am writing about it right now, and still thinking about it months later.
I was doing speed with this girl a week before asking for the change, and asked her for the change because I thought she would sympathize being a drug addict her self.
It was a ****ing pun.
Oh, yeah right.
You don’t know what a pun is?
Of course I do.
Yeah, because you are talking to yourself on a screen, moron.
I think if anything I am learning that I actually have a heart, which is why I have been complaining as much as I have, which has helped me learn about myself. I use this thing to do that, so to anyone reading this, I am genuinely sorry for the level of negativity that comes out of my brain and is reflected back on the computer screen, and through the waves of the internet.
I am small
I am not really here at all
I am a box containing excuses
It is not my intention to get attention, or views or anything, simply to learn who I am, after removing all toxicity.
I have learned more than anything recently, how much I want very simply to become a better human being, and try to find someone who is not toxic or many people, mainly friends who are doing the same.
My sincerest apologies,
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.
Without you my life is hell, and though I live to tell, I can tell you I am quite unwell, I only talk to myself, and dream of bottles no longer on my shelf, and dirty pinging needles, and rocks that taste like batteries, it is quite sad, being this mad…
I have realized now I am insane, and that it was not my disdain for you that caused me to want to leave you there crying on my arm chair, playing with your pretty dark hair, you are on my brain, my mind, at the tip of my tongue, because I realize that I do not miss being spun as much as I miss fun.
My heart did beat for you once, and became slightly inflamed, fighting narcissism and posion in my veins.
For now I am alone, and maybe someday will bring myself out of myself, and finally use a phone to call someone other than myself.
I have known you a thousand times, but noticed nothing, not a thing about you, because I worhipped something that stripped all the color from my world.
You, and all like you
I told her and all like her, to stay away, far away from me, desiring nothing, other than what fueled me…
Pushing everything and everyone away, far, far away, now I am left alone.
I knew this would happen, and did not care, addicted to the now
Now now now
More more more
I complain, but know I did this to me, I was so joy us and O so free.
I was addicted to
I am alone.
I am right along side of you.
To be or not to be?
Distended and extended
I am a time eater.
Left with nothing now, I look back, because I am stuck in the creation of forward.
You are not the creator of reality.
I know, but I am the shaper of my future, or one of them anyway.
She painted her lips with fruits of red, she got them from the tree of living and dead, she had this idea in her silly pretty head, that she could live forever, if the world would just let her.
She thought that she was able to live on and on and on and on without death, without age, without turn of page
Page me, page me, I am crazy. I am living forever, I am living on and on and on and
Look at me, my lips are pink, you as can be.
I am a rose.
I am so great.
I am so perfect, so lovely, so free.
I cost money, and am a slave of thee.
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.
I have been forgetting to do this, but caught myself thinking about drugs a lot, so here. There are no meetings on Saturday near me, so I talk about drugs on the weekends.
I think it is cool if nothing else that I am almost at six months, well sort of….
You are faceless, because I don’t know your name, you are representation, of women with shame of meetitng me on a night when I was without memory enough to be any thing but an ***
Who painted you blue… okay this is obnoxious, **** it.
It sits upon me, and I know not why, I am hot and pointed to sky, not really pointed, because I am flat, It is a perch in that way and only that.
I am quite hot, and think that I
May be frying bird, sitting on my eye, I am as sharp with light as a
Speedle, glowing with chaotic rejection of night, glowing with light, glowing with glow, I am going in the act of gooooooo slow… to the sky, raising I’s up hiiiiiiiigh. I am so very………high.
I am……very toxic………….. aren’t I?
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
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.
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
I desire poison.
I am the act of cut.
Cut me in two.
I just want it, not you.
Ow, I hurt my own feelings.
So becoming, so become, in becoming, we come undone.
I am a wall, I am a cage, I am the idea of nothing new on each page, I am your case, I am your form, I am the idea of forlorn.
In the begining it was decided, that you are you, and you cannot deny it. You get what you get, you give it all away, you are locked in a cage forever to stay.
I survived a deadly fire, glowing eyes rage much higher than flames or smoke could ever reach, on wings I fly not to be beseeched by scalding hot embers that lay beneath, my wings serve me and I reach heights unknown to human being, and due to this my dear it seems, I remain so far away, from flames igniting on that tragic day, when all you loved was reduced to nothing, and in this setting and pain stuffing, burned all that you had within you.
Sear me seer, sear me deep
I am all that lives beneath
I am all you seek to hide
Everytime you ever cried
Sear me seer, sear me deep
I am all that lives beneath
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 not capable of what she wants, she says I am, I assure I am not.
We are sitting on the beach, she tells me to look at the sunset. I am staring at my shoes, thinking about being underwater. I am not completely aware that she is still actually there, she might be a hallucination. I have not known her that long, and don’t remember how we met, she makes me nervous.
She tells me to look her in the eyes. I don’t like looking at people. I am awful at direct eye contact.
I tell her there was once a study done about hallucination and direct eye contact. She asks if I am hallucinating now. ****
How do I always end up doing this?
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.
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.
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
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?
We are the soothsayers, we are the sayers of things that soothe, not because of wanting, just something that we have to do. In the dark moments of those who are rejected, dejected and despised, when we are dark reflecting on all that made us cry, we do this, because we are made to, and it is natural, just how we survive, so we can do it for others, and they can see it in our eyes.
Maybe it is this they are afraid of, and the reason they quest to destroy, any peace that we discover, we are their new revenge toy. I am no longer bound to madness, have found new legs to stand, they are borrowed…… TBC.
We used to have a multi-faceted superstitious belief system, we meaning you, not me this time. That certain things would bring about luck, and that these things were to be trusted before even our mental faculties. I wonder now, were you just trying to make me go insane slowly?
I represent a lucky coin.
Don’t look at panhandled money until we are done panhandling
Don’t stay together the whole time.
Split up and double the money.
You were lying to me, so you could steal from me, when I wasn’t looking. If I accused you of doing that, you accused me of having an episode.
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.
So pretty much.
This is pointless.
My point exactly.
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.
Oh, that is healthy, is that how you are supposed to talk to yourself?
Yes, because it is the only way you answer.
That… is very accurate.
I know, that is why I said it.
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 miss you, but I do not, I miss you, with heart in not. I am just living a lie, because I have forgotten what it was like to live with you back then, and as much as I say I am fine and completely okay…
You are lying.
I am never okay..
You are lying.
I am meditating on pain because I am addicted to misery.
I am meditating on pain, because I like to eat my own soul.
I am mad. I think there is something wrong with me.
I burned these flowers for you baby, in real life and on here, because
I am ****ing insane.
I am lack of clarity, brought about by insanity and vanity, I am enchanted by misery, brought to you by ms.re, she was the last one to chose to see my face that does not wish to be alone.
You are not that sad, stop pretending to be.
I am meditating on times when I was.
Misery loves company.
You are trying to keep resentment happy? That is pretty dark.
I am nothing.
I am nothing.
I must be something, but I am nothing.
I am the abandonment of happiness, in exchange for soul, solely eaten by darkness, I am infestation of human soul, solely consumed by dark quest.
In the dark night, a knight on a chess board eats my chest. In the darkness, a night eats my chess piece, I am the infestation of a mind lost.
I am the cost of being in a unhealthy relationship.
I relate to nothing.
I am nothing.
I loved her so much
I loved her so much
I loved her so little, because I am not capable of love.
I am the act of push, then shove.
I miss you, greatly. I was consumed by you.
Please, please, please, let this feeling go away.
Standing at the ocean, a human being looks out into the all consuming darkness….
I can do nothing but what I can do, which is not much, because I am not there as much as most.
I can do nothing but what someone who is only partially there would do.
That being said, I provide support to all those who need the advice of an addict/alcoholic/ex-homeless junkie.
I say this with no self-loathing.
I am an ear, an eye, a shoulder, and a hand to those who are in bad situations.
I am painted
With the embers that
In the trashcans, that are lit, by campers of discomfort.
I burn with brightness, that ignites nights whose darkness comes from souls not skies.
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.
I am not sure where I am going with this actually, thank you for interrupting me.
I love you baby, you make me complete, you so fare, you are so wonderful, and you are so neat. You are so wonder filled, so lovely, with your grace, I am replete. I would build you an altar, but my love is strewn across the street.
I am so sorry, for how it must end, you were such a wonderous, lovely, trend, for my life to take…. so dreadfully sorry, I made such a tragic and unfashionable mistake.
You were so right, my angel, about me, and my life, me, such a dark creature, addicted to night.
I am so sorry, baby, I loved you so much. I am so sorry, that I lost all your trust. I couldn’t do what you asked me, I see through blind eyes, so sorry sweetie, I am a creature of despise.
So lovely, so sweet, you make me so happy, make my life complete. I love you dearly, so completely, would love to kiss your feet.
She was an angel, glowing with light. She was my sweetheart. In her, I did delight. I loved every moment, every dark starlit night. I was so spellbound, caught by her
Biting caustic poison. I hated her face, was always drawn to debase all the she was, my sweet Alice, how much malice, how wonderful you are.
You are such a wonderful human being.
You make everything a dream.
Nothing with you was ever what it seemed
To be. You are no longer with me, and I wish you the best, and I will forever remember you fondly, my empress, of distress.
To a morning run, such fun it is in the sun. 😉
I love to excercise my eyes, I love to excercise my I. I like to practice the act of hate, of heated despise. I am addicted to writing poems about hate, if you can’t relate, so sorry.
You are so beautiful, you made me complete, you are so beautiful, so lovely, so neat.
You were my baby, we were never apart. I loved you so fully with all that I had, I wanted to give you everything, wanted nothing to be sad.
You are my lady, my love, oh sweet.
So sorry, it did not work out, I am on the other side of the street.
The grass is greener.
The grass is greener.
The grass is greener.
Too bad. So sad. So, sorry.
Love you, forever, sweetie. I am so sad that it didn’t work out. Best wishes, See Clearly.
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.
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
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.
My head, my head, my head was entranced with ideas of being dead, with words that were once said, with notions that should have long ago been put to bed, with the idea of being dead, with tragic dances of being lead to places that would make me
I am addict brain, no longer in chains, no longer addicted to disdain, learning to refrain from living in pain, with focus on the idea of retrain.
I love you, baby
Do you really?
Yes, clearly, sweetie.
I meditate now
Or different things, like the idea of wings, and things that have them.
I counted the amount of days in my life since I was 13. That is all.
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.
You are talking to me about maturity.
You made me cry, is that what you wanted???
Yes, at least you felt something.
Is that all?
Oh, so you’re imitating me??
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 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
You are nothing, ***hole.
Point taken, and proven, so I guess you’re permanent?
You are bitter Hell in a painful shell, of everything on which I doomed to dwell, pain spell, rescast with eyes focused on a past of lack.
Ow, you burned me.
I forgot how I like talking to you, baby.
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.
I am staring at an image, but staring at you.
I am writing to you, but also writing to that, because I never love anyone else first, not even my cat. I worship a goddess, who is made by spoon fire, who is fed with cotton, and sown with desire, I worship you, baby, but really do not, my love for something else is always too hot, it is lit by a candle, a lighter, a match, it is burned till its ready, hope death don’t I catch, I speak of the past here, because I no longer have, enough veins left to do heroin.
I hate myself, I am an anthem to a bottle and a needle and spoon on dusty shelf, I am all that everyone should never aspire to be,
To see clearly, is not in my power to do, I am forever blinded, by the beauty of you.
I glow gold with your lack of introspection, I am gold like stars beyond lights protection, I dance in darkness, like you cannot, I glitter with sparkle, while you are contaminated with soul rot.
Wow, that was mean.
I know, but that is how I feel about myself.
Wow, that was mean. I know, but that is what I think about me.
You are talking about me too you know.
No, I am talking only to me. I am half of you, remember?
Okay, but you are still wrong.
That just furthers my point.
There was a shadow behind you, that I did not recognize every time I looked at you, and I never thought about it before, and even though this is obviously not you, because I would never put a picture of you on the internet, and you were born a guy, so you looked like a guy, the shadow is there, so I used this.
I altered this so I put the shadow there, obviously. I am talking to myself anyway, who cares.
Serve me, please, get on your knees, I am addiction, you are my servant, and I am behind all addicts who fake a smile