I no longer know what the goal of the site is, I write horror fiction, and love letters to myself.
This site is a tool to facilitate the act of seeing clearly, written by hands that used to hurt myself.
I have paranoid schizophrenia, narcissistic personality disorder, bipolar II-manic/depressive- rapid cycling, depression, anxiety, hydrocepholus, narcissistic personality disorder suffering from alcoholism, drug addiction, alcoholic. with OCD and PTSD- was addicted to heroin, meth, crack, alcohol, cocaine, prescription pills.
I am drug addict/alcoholic/dual diagnosis/ex-homeless person.
Characters thus far
Joy
Diane
Damien de Soto
Rei Clearly
POV EXPERIMENTAL ALLEGORICAL POETIC METAPHOR FICTION
First person
Blog post style
Dark horror fiction
Through dark horror fiction I rake the muck of the lives of street addicts.
Or in plain English this is an epic poem/novel about addiction told about low bottom addicts in horror style.
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 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.
Hot air balloon that flies over HELL, below are those who do not even notice, beyond anything that spells their pain and suffering, they cannot see, they are slaves to their sweet misery, they live in resentment, and cannot look up, this is the state in which they are stuck.
In the muck and the mire, they worship fire, which belongs so sweetly, to their own pain, their lack of restraint, so when something flies over, that can save them from themselves, they are not watchful, looking only
AHEAD AND
DOWN
DOWN
DOWN
My soul burns for you baby, you make me so ****ing happy.
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 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.
https://wordpress.com/tag/fandangos-story-starter
https://wordpress.com/tag/fandangos-story-starter
The chase is on, I am running in front, running in front of cars and running in the light of day, I am addicted to being chased by death, I am running right and left, I am playing with the idea of time theft. They are plunging towards me as I get high on the idea of roll the die.
Roll the dice, baby, color by number,
I am running towards the idea of death, I am chasing after the idea of theft of life, I am chasing the idea of dying, I am leaving the idea of trying.
Nihilism, nihilism, nihilism, I love you so,
Oh, nihilism, I will never let you go.
I am the act of rolling under, roll the die, baby, I am the act of die, die, die.
I am chaos incarnate..
Do you chase death?
In the blink of an eye, I make the woman in the passenger seat cry, she is looking at the driver’s seat cry, what are they doing…. I have no idea why?????
I am the act of dog in a human being.
How do you feel about cold weather?
Give me to those who mourn the dead, I am blood red.
I reach for the sky, and die in too much sun, I am a gift.
I am flowers of joy, dying for you, we live in the summer and die when the cold consumes, it eats my silk skin, and makes it dies, we do not breath, and reach for the sky, we do not have eyes, and we cannot cry.
We ask May for rain from the sky, we do not drown in water that falls in lack of eyes, we are red like blood and we are alive, we do not have hands, but can touch the sun’s eye.
You can pull us out of the ground to give lies to your sister while she cries.
Surrounded on both sides, by the all consumingness of you, I look out into nothing, and see only lack, my soul in perpetual attack, under the spell of don’t look back, and look down and vomit with sound of
ACK. Cough. Cough. I am human eating from chaos’ trough, I eat drugs and don’t come down, I star out into the lurking nothing, reflecting back on pain that I stuff into
The gaping hole, that I have inside my soul, it rips and tears and eats the idea of me whole. I am reality bought and sold, I am bell of death ringing, I am a toll,
Unpaid, unpaid, unpaid.
I am gate to HELL,
You are the idea of HELL
Idea of being UNWELL
OF PAIN THAT IS SWELL
AND SWELLING AROUND MY SOUL
OF DEATH CONSUMED BY UNPAID TOLL
Laid, laid, laid, and
Opening, opening, opening, and staying
Extended into the opening, opening,
Blue, and black nothing, I am the idea of you stuffing stuffing, into the the whole hole of your soul, the teddy bear full of NOTHING.
Have you ever broken a bone?
My wrist, my wrist, my wrist, and this….
I had three of my finger tips amputated due to heroin addiction, annd injection site infection.
I am bone loss
I am the disintegration of neglected, injected, flesh.
I am an amputation due to heroin addiction.
I am forgetting you are a being with flesh.
I am the act of ingest, things that make flesh decay, I am not heroic, and let my flesh pass away.
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.
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.
What sacrifices have you made in life?
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,
NORM
AL Liar, liar, soul on
FIRE FIRE
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.
I think I am fine. I think I might have exhausted myself though, why?
I had a feeling you were going to say that, that’s why.
I am probably just going to pass out after I eat something, are you doing nightshift?
No, I am going to bed with you.
That sounds disgusting.
I know, now I sound like you, so taste of your own medicine.
Even more disgusting. I sound like you, and you sound like me.
What was that?
I can hit below the belt too, that is what that was.
I guess so, thank you.
You’re welcome.
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.
Ouch.
Yeah, I know I win.
It was good, people seem to like us more now that we aren’t fighting each other for dominance.
So you mean now that you are not trying to be control all the time.
That was you doing that.
True. I thought I could get away with blaming it on you.
The other chick I am sometimes agrees with me.
I know she agrees with you, because we hate each other.
That is because she lost.
I know, and it is wonderful.
This is insane, peace.
I am in love, I am in love, with voices that shove me, anyone really, who makes me feel dreary, because I am addicted to pain not with painkillers but with pain, addicted is not the right word, maybe
LOVE would be more appropriate.
I love you baby, so much, so very much.
BURN ME
I go round and round in circles, I am the pain of mind that won’t turn off, I am addicted to the cycle of up and down, can’t get off.
I go round and round in circles, I am the pain of mind that won’t turn off, I am addicted to the cycle of up and down, can’t get off.
Why? And what do you mean?
I mean be mean to me, make me cry, I like to be poked in the eye.
Um… dude…
I know, this is weird, I am going to stop embarrassing myself online…
I keep thinking about you?
Why, ***hole?
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.
Ouch.
I know, that was a good one.
Yes, it was.
Zingers for swingers.
Cheap shot.
I know.
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 running, I am not sure what I am running from, but I come upon this house, and begin pounding on the door, there are women inside and I start speaking, not even sure what is going to come out of my mouth, just knowing that I am hungry and tired, and can’t walk anymore, because it feels like I have been walking for a really long time.
They invite me to sit down.
I am a house in the middle of nowhere, I am owned by an adult child, and populated with the unfortunates, who travel through the night and day, and come and stay sometimes, and sometimes run away, and never return.
I am not paid for, because I was abandoned a long time ago, and to the eyes of the owner, no one ever comes in and no one ever leaves.
I am covered with lack of care, which is great because on these stairs, no one is there, no one and everyone really, every one and any one who is in need…
I have a tale and a tail about a wailing woman, who thought she lost me, and was having a cow, not a whale.
The convenience of the universe astounds me.
I ran into a woman once, literally into her, I was chasing my dog, and she was chasing her’s.
CRASH
I really like coffee, that was stressful, and I dropped mine, do you want to accompany me.
I am tired, so yes, some coffee sounds excellent.
This is really good, what were you doing out there chasing your dog?
Huh?
I mean, are you from around here and were just taking a walk? Or, are you site seeing or something? If you are site seeing… I am from the area, and could tell you some places to check out, or just show you… I mean if you want?
That sounds excellent…
TBC
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
MUST
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
Forget 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.
I loved her so very much, I decided to treat her poorly.
So in love with black and white, you are, you are my shooting star, you are everything to me, I love you so clearly, so dearly, you are everything that I ever wanted, and needed, please stay always my
HEROIN
I loved her so very much, I decided.
To treat her poorly, was not my intention, and of it I make mention to mention why, I treated her
My treat is to retreat.
I am a coward.
She was mean to me.
I am coward, and did not want to see.
You are an addict.
You are a liar.
I hold a lamp shinning on your soul, alight with HELL FIRE.
You glow with green fixation, you are pure agitation, you are pained resistance, you are my existance.
That is a little extreme.
hahahahahahhahahahhahhahahhah
Make me fast
Make me slow
Make me go
25, oh 25, how I love you so
25, oh 25, so fast, and yet so slOoOoOw
25, oh 25, a number oh sweeeeeeeeet
25, oh 25, you take me off my feat.
You are a number in my memory, for many a reason, you are a number in my memory, no matter what season, you are so…
I am done thinking about……
You are such an ***
Isn’t life lovely, isn’t life grand, how wonderful it is, lacking the courage to stand, in the darkness I am, in the dark lack of day, I am always forever, and fated to stay.
I am above you, but so very below, I am the person with whom you should not go. You don’t believe me, you think I am a liar, you think that was my brother, who you wished to set on fire.
Isn’t it nice?
Isn’t it great?
Such a pleasant re-do, now we can relate. I am not the person I was, now I am new, I am girl re-colored for you.
There is no difference, between me and him, no rhyme or reason for your lie wearing thin.
You slowly realize I was telling the truth.
Isn’t it tragic, now I am removed.
You removed yourself, sweetie.
I know I did.
Sometimes, I wake up and I am not me, but someone else, somewhere else, and if nothing else, I am aware, that this means very bad things are happening to me, somewhere else, where I am actually myself. This time, I wake up in a painting. I am not sure why, but I am aware that I am in the painting, which kind of feels like lucid dreaming for normal people, I guess.
It feels like actually being in a canoe, like I am imagining is in the painting which I am hallucinating, or for regular people, lucid dreaming. The only difference is very strange. I am extremely warm. It feels like sunburn.
I am so warm in fact, that I want to jump out of the canoe, which I do, immediately, and feel the water in the painting hit my skin, but also feel the burning sensation go away, as I imagine other water hits my real skin. I am comforted by this fact, that somewhere ele, where I actually am, I am not burning alive, and then I hear it, a commotion, coming from somewhere else, it is a sound I recognize, fire alarm, blarring, somewhere else.
My apartment is on fire.
I am brought back to present time, someone is spraying those of us walking out with a firehose. I am holding a painting of people in a canoe. The strange thing is, it is not the painting from my apartment, there is someone in the waterr next to the canoe, they were not there before.
Food speaks to me, it tells me to eat it, it tells me I will like it so much better than I can even imagine. This is probably because I am
INSANE
I am probably insane… I am actually insane.
I know this, but I wonder sometimes, if there is something to this, something real, if I am hearing something real, that is real to a small segment of people, but experienced collectively, in that it is the same experience shared by a very small segment of the population, so would that not make it real?
I 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.
You made me cry, is that what you wanted???
Yes, at least you felt something.
Is that all?
Yes.
Oh, so you’re imitating me??
Yes.
Good job.
I am oh so rich, with vice added to a face that asked for nothing but sigh, you gave me nothing but advice.
Isn’t it great? Isn’t it neat?
Aren’t we so very completely in love?
Tell me how much, I need you baby, tell me how much I want you, and I will repeat it so, so, sweetly.
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?
I am ever-present, yes.
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.
Me too.
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 kind of glad I figured out whose voice I am hearing when I hear what I refer to as the voice of misery.
Are you really?
Which one of you is it?
The one you like.
That’s good, I feel like **** right now.
I do too.
The voice feels nothing…
Don’t do that.
Okay, it feels whatever it feels.
Thank you. I like this song a lot.
Another Day in Paradise?
Yeah, it has like three or so different meanings for me, especially since we have been there on the side of the street. I am thinking a lot about California.
Why?
Is it weird I miss being there?
No, everytime we start making progress we ruin it by getting drunk/high, which is what I assume you mean by missing California.
I can’t do the whole thing again to our family, but I think about it every day.
Right there with you.
Want to come upstairs with me?
Yes.
“Oh, think twice, ’cause it’s another day for you and me in paradise”
Phil Collins
I can stay, I can stay, which is insane I have to say, but who cares, I think if nothing else, the fact that I am insane has become very a parent… ahahahhahhahha.
Macbeth, Macbeth, I am part of my own soul’s death, I am the death of the part that is killing me, I am victor in a kingdom of a Misery, which is my own body, or ours, sorry Amanda, I don’t know what to call you anymore.
That is because I am basically you now.
So when I am talking to you am I just talking to me?
Exactly.
Well, how do I know the difference?
You don’t, neither do I, it happens all the time remember?
Yeah, actually now I do.
Are you done with her?
So it was me obsessed with her?
Yeah, I think so, she was something about self-image, which I think is you not me.
Aren’t we the same thing though?
Yeah, but you are more ego driven because you are newer and on defense mode.
So, I have a built in excuse for being an ***hole, excellent.
This is gross, I am out.
Me too.
I love you, Lydia, insidious disease, that brings me to my knees. I am sick over you, whatever would I do, without you my love, my sweet turtle dove. You bring me to my knees.
You haven’t talked to me in a long time, you disgusting peice of ****, and I am not a disease, even though both of you refer to me as one. I am not the voice of misery, I just know how to deal with addiction, because I am not a self-loathing ego maniac, like some residents of the body we inhabit.
I know, I haven’t, but you are half responsible for my survival, so while I was showering I remembered you.
You haven’t talked to me in so long you forgot about me, is what you are saying.
In sickness and health, to those on the shelf, I love you so much, you are so great, ever so sorry
What you came back so late? You are an ***hole, and make such loud noise, you are a child playing with toys.
I missed you too.
Correct.
Where’s your little girl?
She’s yours too.
Is that why you haven’t talked to me in forever, and she is not mine, she just uses me to get what both of you want.
Ouch, but correct.
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.
There are two of you which is terrifying, because that makes me think of identical twins, who both hate me.
Or we could do what we did with that one girl we knew. You know the one?
Oh, yeah?
She dated you.
I dated her.
She had our issues too.
Both sides of her, broke up with both sides of us.
How dare you enjoy life? I cannot, I am addicted to strife, or to strive, or to striving or to seeming
So so so
Alive.
That sounded insane.
I know. Isn’t it great.
No.
Ouch.
I actually did think it did, you just gross me out.
I know, because I am your own self-love, or the rabid dog version of it, which is a funny way of saying narcissistic personality disorder.
I am married to myself.
Look at me, as I talk like two different people who are divorced.
Dancing sirens at the ocean.
Make me think of my devotion, to nothing but myself.
Ouch, I burned myself.
That is really ****ing accurate.
Isn’t it?
Yes.
That is why people thought I was your ex-boyfriend.
You kind of are.
How?
I don’t really know.
Me neither. I think I would be your ex-husband not boyfriend.
Hahah. The ring of power.
I just thought that was funny, because it is like it is saying that it is only 104 days that we have been talking to each other, but it is really only 104 days that I have been doing it on wordpress.
Instead of on street corners, in alley ways, in front of my family, in bathrooms, and in the shower?
Yeah, exactly.
The best thing about it, is that I can now keep track of who is talking.
Character development on both sides.
Yeah, totally.
I am the chicken and you are the egg.
Other way around.
How would that work?
I am a chicken that was birthed through a process that looked sort of like what happened in a movie about an alien.
That sounds really funny, so funny, I almost laughed.
Me too.
I am cemented in the memory of my author, I am cemented in the creator of this image, I am cemented by the creator of this image.
In cement it lay, and forever will it stay.
I am covered over, an image protected and rejected by protection, destroyed by idolization, a picture of objectification, a picture of self-love.
Are you sure that is not just what you are seeing because you project yourself on your interpretation of it?
Exactly.
I am correct.
Exactly.
I am an attack on human soul, by protection of image which in fact eats everything whole, creating the potential for the whole image to become a hole.
Manilla, Manilla, in Vanilla, Vanilla, now just a stain on my brain, you make me insane.
I don’t think the image…
I know, just rambling because I like to hear myself talk.
You are typing.
I am also whispering this to myself, because I am insane.
It’s all for you, Damien.
The Omen
I am allergic to cookies, which is really my way of saying I am allergic to feelings.
You have such pretty eyes
Oh, pretty flower.
I like woman’s hands, staring at them makes me happy, so happy that I forget where I am and dream about things that make me feel like I am somewhere else.
She makes cookies, that taste so sweet, she makes cookies, she is neat, she makes cookies, and I am not there, because I am an ***hole.
I am busy, I am outside, I am too busy, not trying to hide, I simply like to be outside, and find things that make me high.
I am about the past. I am about the past. **** it. I am about the past. I am writing this instead of getting high, because I love my family, so instead of getting high I decided to…………………write this insane… whatever you call it.. satirical roast of myself, do you like roast chicken, here is a roast of a chicken, written by a chicken, for a chicken, for me, it’s all for you, self.
I am the omen. I am the omen. I am the omen.
I am small because I have a fear of weakness.
I am pathetic, but also narcissistic, and I made this so I am re-inserting this above, which you do not need to know, but I have schizophrenia, so I assume people are watching me type.
I like pain, because I love to complain, which is why I stare at things that people don’t notice, I look at them closely while others talk, because people make me uncomfortable.
I am a prisoner in my own body, so I guess that is also why I like chains, because they represent me.
She tells me to go on a hike, so I go walk a long path, veering way far away from where she is, because, she is not that interesting anyway, being someone I just met.
Psycho path, psycho path, where art thou, psycho path?
I am right here, staring at a woman’s shoes, but you can’t see me, because I am a liar, and I am actually typing this on computer while thinking about drugs.
I love you so much, I took you golfing, because we both love golfing, and my friend lives across the street who also loves golfing, which means I must stop golfing and go talk to him about this pretty dragon, and how much we both love golfing.
I used to chase dragons, now I see them for what they are, just scars, that are on these two spots I like to stare at and think about how great it was, to almost die.
I painted you this color, because I am a narcissist who dropped their camera on the ground,
running around, chasing drugs around the country. I am very funny. I am very funny. Look at me, spending all of my money, not my money, other people’s money, that they gave me, while I held a sign, to be clear, I didn’t say what it was for, and stood there for 7 hours a day, so it was pretty clear what it was for.
The kettle is blacker than most, because I wanted it to be, so I made it be, and I made the rest of this purple, so the kettle look more black than it already was, and there is no pot in this, because I prefer hard drugs, because I am just that kind of ****.
I love you person I don’t know, because you are beautiful and glow, with colors of say it isn’t… anyone I met, so you are not dead to me yet, because you simply don’t exist, you are idea of bliss or chaotic death either one because I know I ****, and am horrible at everything so I ruin anything I have and would ruin things with you too, and that no longer makes me sad, because I am
Insane, and engaged in a worship of myself, or with items on my shelf, that I threw out for now because I… actually they got stolen… and it was
Really ****y, but you are really pretty, for a second you make me think of something else,
Heroine, oh Heroin, I love you so,
Heroine, oh Heroin, I wish I could forget you,
And not be writing love poems to a woman who is really a metaphor for how I am a pathetic loser.
Ahahahhah.
What does that even mean?
I liked how it sounded, rappers do it, why can’t it be done with horror, and actually all letters you write me are severe, because they are severly disturbing to average people.
That is actually very true.
I know that is why I thought of it.
Not everything you think is true.
Name one thing.
I am not a drug addict, I just like heroin and can do it responsibly this time, if I just don’t drink. This is actually something you were thinking today. How do I know, because I was thinking it to.
I am a box that never should have been opened.
I am trying it one time, and never again.
I will never do it two days in a row.
I can just drink one.
I can just have three.
I will start at five.
I will start at 12.
Severly, means harshly, and I think that a lot of us talking to each other, can be considered harsh, which is why I like you.
You like me because you have to, because I am you, or half you, and you are in love with your whole self which is half me.
Sick burn.
Mouth full, mouth full, choking on noise, I like hate read through play play play with…
I am going to punch you in the face.
The sweet embrace of erase, is the solution to all missing space, and all that matters not, I like fear when it runs through paths that are wrought with fear and choas ascending, I like deer with feet that are trending towards running into cars,
Cars. cars. cars.
What is mine, is really ours.
I am not.
You seem better, face so…
If you say it I will poke you in the eye.
That sounds fun, so will I.
Sounds like blindness, oh see clearly.
I hate you so very much.
I loooooovveee… you, but mostly us. us. us.
I am the fear of stay. I am the thought of lack of… pay.
I have to pay you to stay in your own brain? I like it.
Does it ever feel like you are forgetting which one is talking?
That is because I am winning.
I am self-hatred, read so so clearly.
I am talking, but really not, I am hate read in pain so hot.
I am a condescending self-defending ***hole, who just got tired of this, you lose, to bad, so sad, I am mad, glad, bad,
Going away now…
Is that supposed to be me? Loser.. it doesn’t look like me or anyone we know..
I painted you in a way you hate.
This isn’t even painted, it is a digital image re-touch thing.
Don’t you hate stupidity??
Yes.
Double win.
You have nothing of mine, because you do not need it, you are so divine, need no refining touch, so I painted you badly, sadly, tragically so, I love you, though I don’t know you, never will, so sad, too bad, my sweet princess, we will never go to the far below, because I am trying to get over…
Over and over and over, up and out of the of the Hell, that is life without, anyone but me, I do not…
Yes, you do liar.
I am.
I know this, that is why I said it.
We are doing the same thing we used to do at the bar, but this time we are alone, without other people doing it too, and without alcohol or drugs… how does it feel?
Like I am cutting myself off at the knees, but I kind of like it?
Good… me too.
I wonder if this will ever get better…
I don’t think it can get worse than this, so I think we will either die, or it will get better… or it will stay just this bad forever and ever…
How bad is this?
I don’t know, it has always been this… so how bad is it really?
I am still alive? I guess that means it is okay enough…
I think I would be happier like this, completely alone, talking to myself as my partner.
Hey, isn’t that what we are doing now, and doesn’t it ****?
Yes.
Than what the **** are you talking about???
That I am insane, and don’t know what else to say, and I am trying to make someone laugh, even if it is just you?
So you are talking to yourself on a blank screen, trying to type things that make you feel good about yourself?
Yeah, isn’t that what the book of faces is???
I don’t think anyone on that thing is looking in a mirror talking to their own face as if it is another person?
They aren’t? That is what it looks like to me.
That is because we are insane, and it is not what they are doing, because they are not insane.
That sucks.
For us or them.
Well, mostly them.
Why?? Not what I expected to hear…
Because, we never have to be truly alone.
Or, we are always more alone than anyone ever.
Other than maybe Gollum on Lord of the rings.
You’re welcome, I am usually the one saying that to you, so now you got a taste of your own medicine, and got to be the bad guy for once. How did it feel?
Like I was sitting back and listening to you talk, but I was actually present in my own body, having to experience me talking, and be completely coherent during it.
Hahaha! So, it is not easier being me, now is it?
Actually, wrong, it was being you than it would be being me, if it was me, I would not have been there at all, the fact that I am you was the only reason I was able to deal with any of it.
Thank you, I don’t know what to say about that.
Really? Thank you is all you have?
Amazing isn’t it?
No, actually, a thank you is kind of nice.
You know how insane this whole process is right?
Yeah, was just thinking the same thing.
Maybe, other people do this in their own heads.
I don’t think so.
I was just trying to make my own self feel better.
Yeah, your own self.
You are my own self.
You are my own self too.
That is a very insane thing to say.
Isn’t it lovely, isn’t it great?
So sorry baby, I can’t relate, I am addicted to madness, to pain and slow death, that is what I have been given.
I call it time theft.
This is my life which I was given, from the time I was born, ticking time clock was ticking. I am to be thankful, I am to be glad, I am to serve everyone, because there lives are sad, I am to shut up, I am to be down.
I am to always smile, only laugh, never frown.
I am to speak kindly.
I am sorry that I cannot do, I hate everything around, sorry, baby even you.
I want different cards, or I want to quit playing. I tried all my life in every way, to quit playing, every attempt came with failure, and people glad I was alive, while I sat like always wanting to off my life.
Label me chaos,
I am a game of chicken played in red and blue, not green, but blue.
I don’t know what to do, except scream, because I don’t want any of this, never did, never will, and no matter how much I try, I am not allowed to quit playing.
Label me doubt, label me contention, because I love to scream and shout. I love the human word, because I in perpetual fight to be not heard, because you know what I really don’t care.
Label death, they already did, at eight, already dead, ticking, ticking, so thankful, so grateful, so sad, too bad, already gone, gone, gone.
I lived my whole entire life, on rock bottom from eight to now, on gravel, and sometimes jagged rock, crawling up. I was born with something, for those who do not know that gave me a life expectancy of 21.
21, 21, 21
Wish sometimes, that I had lost not won.
My life is all silver linings, and people say I should be thankful, greatful, for what, more time than 21 years?
Because I am somehow supposed to be thankful to have less time than most people???
Gravel. I am so fond of you. I know everything about every curvature, every outline, of the pleasant rocks at the bottom of the path that is my life, which I went off, because I am sorry…
I don’t like cutting my feet on rocks very much.
I love you so much
I painted with dark
I love you so much, you are the color of my heart.
Darkness, darkness, my lovely life, you are so
wonderful, so ascending, never impending, always transcending, always exploding with joy, joyous, joyous, open mouth, screaming with openness, light casting shadow on all the dark
I am darkness. I am shadow.
I am swallowed. I am gone. I am theft of night’s life. I am silent song. I am death of chaos, I am end of night long.
Death of quiet, begins a song.
Color me with madness
Color me dark
Color me with darkness
Color my heart
I am madness screaming please end joy, joy is chains to human who employs, my misery.
I am melting paint by number
I am melting paint by number and I have got yours
I am paint by number recolored because I don’t listen to instructions
She was so beautiful, she was so nice,
Surely, surely,
You must know
That all I ever wanted was to go
I ran cross country
Alone at a last
You will never find me
kiss my ***
she was so pleasant, she was a plot device, she was a tool, she was a wrench, she was wench,
I am awkward pause.
she was a whore, now forever she rests. I put her to bed, now it is said, her name was something else that I have not yet said, and surely I won’t because he reads this now, and I don’t care about him and he needs to figure that out.
Don’t be afraid of me, I don’t give that much of a **** about you, you are spineless woman beater. I am no longer the person you hit, now I am the person who doesn’t give a ****.
I am watching you
And it makes me so very sad, to see you standing in a place so bad… painted as it is with death of day, a place I am sure from which you should stay far away, given such a pretty face, so tragic it would be for it to be stuck in this space, the place where we have come to haunt, to murmur curses and sadly taunt, the beings that come from above ground land, where I am sure your sweet form must be from and stand on the lands that are populated by better folk, not us my dear, who down here sulk.
There is still time, you can still turn around, you don’t have to be a lurker on this tragic ground, you need not listen to my partner’s voice, just run away, you have a choice.
She’s got cash, you fool, let’s help her out, she might help us, if we don’t make her go without, so shut your mouth, don’t make her run, come on, dumb ****, let’s have some fun.
Now I am sorry baby, but to get out of here, you are going to need a guide and she is right here, my friend, my friend, she is great, a true sweetheart, with such a pretty face, I’ll be right back, and you will laugh, she looks like me, she is my other half, she will make sure you will be fine and away you’ll go. I am someone you would rather not know, I am sure you will be just fine, look here don’t cry, sweet one, take a beer, go away, baby I am not good with your kind, I am resigned to live in life of decline, so no I don’t have what you thought you need………..
He told me something
Spoke so clearly, told me that he loved me dearly, he had such a beautiful voice, so I felt like I had no choice, but to make him
CRY CRY CRY
I love you sweetheart, hope you
DIE.
You are part of an empire of chaotic obsession with death that seeks the theft of youth by making them afraid of the idea of truth, so they stick themselves with
PINS AND NEEDLES
Sowing into themselves cushioning, that cuts out everything they are, everything they were before, making them sure of nothing other than that they need endless replenshiment of something that is not food, not water, not shelter, or warmth but
GIVE ME MORE LOVE
I am the act of shove, I am the act of push, I am take everything you have.
I am addiction, I am all consuming, I am ever entombing, I will eat your
SOLE
Of your shoe because your real soul belongs only to you, please
Remember that.
I love you so much, you turn my heart to dust, I trust nothing more than you, I love everything you do.
You sound psychotic.
You do too.
I love you too, by the way, so glad we are okay.
How do you unwind after a demanding day?
I used to fire drugs, play games with thugs, and sweep pain under rugs, now I am resigned to a life of pain, as long as it does not go down the drain again. I am no longer alone, I remembered I don’t need a phone, because I am my own best friend.
I never have to be alone again.
I am the nuerotic psychotic, who saw a nuerologist, psychologist and got the gist of the meaning of all of this.
I have a nuerologist, therapist, primary care doctor and am going to be on medication in two weeks, my shunt is functioning, found out I will live with this level of chronic pain the rest of my life and just have never experienced it as an adult because I was always too messed up to know what it was like as an adult. Have not been sober since I was a child.
I mean that you were spending a night talking to me, I am not worthy of the air that you breathe.
I was very glad you decided to leave,
appreciated the pipe you had up your sleeve,
not very good idea to use a match….not a very good way to get the stuff to catch or melt I mean… I didn’t care… I was entranced by the glow of the light on your hair, but you didn’t seem all there,
I am so tired of the tragic tweekers
Pretty women, darkness seekers, telling people like me you want something better and hanging out with people like me… so glad you decided to catch your ride and go back to him, I wasn’t worth your time anyway.
You are not about Rei, you are about
Please can I stay for a little while longer, I don’t want to do this right now… I am not ready for this right now, I have never done this alone.
Everytime you did this you did it alone, idiot.
Everytime you do anything you are by nature doing this by yourself.
Please, let me be alright.
I am painted with disdain
I am scorched by fire
I am burned with acid reign
I can’t spell words correctly…
I am double meaning, always seeming, clearly gleaning lack of confidence decently descending always condescending attack of sole of shoe that is
YOU
YOU
YOU
You will be as alright as it is in the cards to be, the cards are not your cards…
BORROWED TIME
Do you like dimes? You’re reality and everything you believe is mine. mine. mine. mine.
Dove wings
Dove wings
Dove wings
Dove wings
Dove wings
Dove wings
Dove wings
You made a deal with me…
You made a deal in exchange for your own life.
That is insanity, I did no such thing.
Deals with the devil
That is just lived backwards.
I am not lived backwards
Forewords
Four words
Leave me alone, please.
You will not survive this time.
Not four words, you lose.
I am borrowed time, I am my life is not mine, I am sing songy bull****.
I am walking by myself, like always every night, possessed by bottle on the shelf of a wall that is abandoned, by all who do not stand in the wreck that my life has landed in
I am darkness, I am pain, I am embodied disdain.
I am dark acid rain
Reigning down on soul of nothing
I have taken up to living. here… my home is here..
Yes, my dear, I have beer, and nothing… I have nothing to…
This is my home.. this is alone.. my home…
If that’s what you call this …in this building… she thinks this is interesting… drunken creature… following me…
Calls me brave, saying I made some stand against something…that I am standing up for something…. myself I assume.. I stand in my own tomb….possessed by the fire of chaotic desire to consume….
I am glamorization of Hell
I am woman’s desire to dispell everything her parent’s told her not to do
I am where you shouldn’t be
I am do not envy me
She helps me light a fire, tells me she wants to be like me.. free….
She does not see what is really there, illuminated godess… standing at the corner of a dark cliff, wanting to jump
Wanting this….
What is it you want
You want this?
Why?
She talks to me for an hour, and for an hour everything is alright, she has to leave in the morning promises to come back, promises she actually meant everything she said.. I know she is lying…… I am nothing but a night of adventure.. I am nothing but the desire to deny potential…
I am the glamorization of a life of loss..
I am the glamorization of the freedom that is the chains of addiction..
I never see her again because heroine’s do not save heroin addicts…
I have to save myself……
Maybe if I do… one day I will see someone like you again.
Tell me a story….
The lights, the lights, the lights
Sometimes, at times, in times, all the time, always and forever, they
I am the green machine
I am envy
I am mean
I am looking at all you lack
I am condescending soul attack
Blend together, not the right word, I am so unheard, absurd, painted, re-done, unspun, spinning, spinning down down down down
Talk to me, sweety, talk to me nice, I am extendeeeeeeeeeeeeddddddddd
Through time………..
I go back back back
Walk through the thoughts of the dark
I am a polaroid from Hell, that is where I stay and it is just as well….
Well, well, well,
Not doing so good are you?
I color your world with the colors of Disease, Damien, I color your world with the colors of everything your soul lacks, everything that will cause your eventual failure.
Everything that makes you feel small.
I am the voice of Hell and I am the loudest sound of all.
When I was followed by the glowing light that illuminated the night, street lights that would light up as I past them
I don’t know why or how, just simply that they would blink on and off and off and on
Cover me in purple mirth
I am the fuel of nightmares.
I dream of horses
I dream of horses
I dream in color
I dream of another
I live in bile, I live in Hell, I live in forever under dark dispell.
Come back to me baby, don’t let it drive you crazy………………
On and on and on and on always and forever
always and forever
forever and always
Always and never.
I am re-painter, not a re-stainer, and a un-tragic complainer, complaining about things that are no longer here, just an addict learning to ****ing feel.
This is a picture of flowers
I am small, made by meditation.
I am focused on for
One second and now this.
Rose, rose where is my
Rose
I am a metaphor, I am dying, but I am trying, so hard to keep someone somewhere because what I really am is a thought
Brought to someone by disease
I am the dissing of easment.
I am lack of apeasement.
Get out.
I am red painted roses.
In a garden of suposes.
I miss a lot of things
Looking at the ground to make sure
I will not trip
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 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.
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 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.
Do you swim with sharks or dolphins.
I swim alone.
You swim with voices, like always.
SCHIZOPHRENIC.
SCHISM. ISM. ISM.
I am, misery, I am pain I am a
I am the holder of grudge, and I am lost in this poem.
I like to make images different than are, by covering them in darkness.
Swimming in the water is hard, when it is riddled with sharks.
I am the voice of pain.
I am soul reeking disdain.
Mushrooms are a food that tastes good.
Dancing in light is hard, when you live in the ground.
Rising from the ground can be done over night.
I am a fledgling bird.
The smell of moss lights the way, for those with dirty noses.
Under the stars, is found a world, united with ground, but looking up at the night sky. U
Under the moon, is felt the light of the stars, in blue tones, it paints the ground, with the possibility of future lightning storms, the sound of thunder, and ability to hear and see, when before senseless.
Do you remember?
Do you remember?
I know right?
I am walking out of a dark cave.
I am the assending assention of the never pretender.
I am kindness’s defender.
She was always trying to convince me that I had done something I had not done, she would tell me that I stole our ****. It was my ****.
Justin would do the same thing, he was sleeping with that lady, and he would give money to her, and then accuse me of stealing it.
She said I did it once because I think she really thought you were cheating on him with a guy named Damien.
Hahahhahahhahahhahahaahahaha! That is insane.
No, the truth is actually insane, Lydia.
You remembered it.
I did it just now.
Ears ringing, answer me, answer me.
Hello. Hello.
Hey, what do you want
Nothing, just to get you to do that.
You are an attention…
Dirty dirty word.
I like you.
Me too.
ahahahahhaa.
Now you sound like me.
Cool.
Do you want fries? I want fries.
I am allowed to eat now??
Yea, you always eat with me?
So you’re telling the truth now???? Good one, Amanda.
Don’t call me that.
What do I call you then because you can’t have my name, I am using it.
I don’t have one, I can be whoever you want me to be…
That’s disgusting, but I like it.
Bring back old memories?
Yeah, and stop it.
That’s why you won, you are better at being sober.
That’s because I am a unicorn.
I am done with you for now.
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
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.
Sometimes, others I see this.
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.
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.
I eat honey, I am sweet, in this act, I am complete. I eat sweetness. I resign. I live in hole. I am not divine. I eat sweetness, cause decay, I am a bee. I sting, and make pain stay.
I cause infection, I can cause death. I make sweet items, and fill request, for sweet honey, wanted by man. I am a creature and have legs to stand.
I am a creature, that dances on flower, I create item, which soul devours. I dance on flowers, that cause joy, but I am also Hell’s toy.
“Hope is the thing with feathers“,
speaking of her bird, named Hope, poor choice telling me this.
I have been thinking of killing that parrot ever since she told me it’s name, not because of what she said about it, but because the **** thing listens to me talk to myself. I hate that damn bird, it needed exactly what happened to it. It still looks exactly the same as it did before, except for one crucial detail, now hope is dead and stuffed, wonder how long it will take her to figure out she now has a stuffed parrot. Probably as long as it is going to take for me to figure out how to get the **** out of her before she kills me, which is not going to happen, she is not a good fighter.
Oh, look, a window, that was simple enough, looks like your hope is just like me, out the window, or yours is behind it.
I was with a friend of mine, and we were well… doing things you should not do on a beach in the sand.. making quilts of pain.
I am not good at making quilts, I always use a thread that is too long, so long sometimes I get tangled in it, and end up waking up next to her, after she got tangled in it too.
I woke up choking on my own vomit, because when you play with string and swallow it you have to throw up sometimes… I look over at her, and she is not breathing….. I immediately start crying, because that is the right response, make it so I can’t see clearly, so I can’t save my friends life because I had to take a shot at doing something stupid, because I can’t just be sober for five seconds, even if the five seconds would save her
I throw everything out of the way, and wonder where the **** I put that thing…. that thing that you stick up people nose to save their freaking life when they do something stupid and are not the one who has to be me right now **** why the hell did I never learn CPR. Why the hell did I never learn… I know how to say all this stupid stuff in different languages, but I don’t know cpr…. what the fuck….
You cough, and everything is alright.
Thank you God.
I see no end, to your voice, see no end to no choice,
I hear you in my head, over and over,
Saying things you said, that I ignored, shut you out.
I would at the time rather have lived without
Hearing that you hated me, wished me to know with impunity, but now I wonder, and I fear,
Whether you were right and so my dear,
I am so sorry for shutting out
All words you said, because I live in doubt, had I listened, had I changed, would I still be in such pain??
Would we both be better now? If I stopped using then, had put it down, if I had agreed, done what you said, would I still be alone and dead inside
I am right now. I wish I had something not life without.
I was stupid. I was wrong, and now I wish I just had gone
Along with anything you did or said and maybe I would not wish I was dead.
She was on a box of graham crackers, a new box, that came out I don’t know when, and I don’t want to know, ever.
Probably… never happened anyway, because it has already been established
I am
INSANE
A person with invalid
Opinion.
Lidded for the safety of all those who do not like to hear me.
I am sealed in toxic glass prison of constant self reflection, reflecting my poison, only at myself.
Caustic bitter alcoholic, encased in a bottle of alcohol, drowning like a elephant in the room, or a allusion to Dumbo,
Dumb ***.
Or just an addict thinking about things that will hurt me in the morning because **** me.
all sensations leading down to the sensation of life down drain, extension of pain, after dedication of life spent in vein, I mean in vain…….
I had my own death planned out since I was, I don’t know 14. A clever escape from a life of running a race into nothing, a condolence for a life spent on nothing but purchasing pain… in vain, in vein.
I am heroic.
Heroine, heroine, where art there heroine?
I like to drop the e’s sometimes.
X is one hell of a drug.
Trigger. Trigger. Trigger.
This is fun.
TOXIC TOXIC
WORD VOMIT
ACID BILE
Okay, I am done.
I used to wash my hands a lot, when I was so elated, that I could have been instated to a psych ward for lack of a pillow because I hadn’t slept in days, because I was so happy
To pace around looking for a place to sleep where no one could
Steal everything I own, hurt me, kill me, or follow me for the rest of my life, so I decided to cause my own strive instead, sitting and consuming my own caustic poisons in dark rooms with friends in that shrouded themselves in clothing that hide their face, like I hid my face, because we hated ourselves so much we desired only to be not there at all, so high above you all… but not really….
How low can I go… I don’t know.. have you ever slept in 30 degree weather in New Mexico in the rain or sleet because you spent all your money on things that were not food or shelter?
Do you know what I felt there?
Over the line…
In decline…
Life resigned…
To a mind…..
In pain..
Life down..
The drain….. A human stain on the brain of a person who is now so different.. I am trying to forget, but have not yet, and maybe I shouldn’t, but I don’t know how to move on, and least for today.. I am singing different song..
“If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it.”
Willy wonka
