Self-burn, ouch, got yourself.
It is you I am talking to. I said half.
There is no such thing, we are the same human, we just talk to each other, with the same hands.
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
Damien de Soto
POV EXPERIMENTAL ALLEGORICAL POETIC METAPHOR FICTION
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.
Self-burn, ouch, got yourself.
It is you I am talking to. I said half.
There is no such thing, we are the same human, we just talk to each other, with the same hands.
I made this sarcastically for you, and for whoever likes sarcasm.
You have been largely silent today, Amanda.
I know, because I had a hard time seeing you cry in front of people, and now I have this unsettled feeling that won’t go away. You were always the one who never cried.
I think you are feeling what it feels like for us to be one person, or the closest we have ever come to being fully our two-spirited selves.
I am glad both of us get to be part of your family.
I 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.
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.
Just had a hilarious conversation about admitting weakness and being sick at work. It is funny to know how much of my belief system has roots (heh) in cultural heritage and in my beliefs which are highly rooted in Catholicism.
I am okay with it now though, my beliefs are my beliefs I guess.. and denying them has just caused me undue pain.
I am done with the root canal and have to get a crown put on my tooth, not that anyone needs to know this… mostly documenting this for myself anyway…
That is all? That is all you have? What?
Did I wake you up?
No, I am sitting right there with you, letting you use my hands.
That’s good, thank you. I don’t like being alone.
I am right here.
I keep thinking about all the lies I told to get things that I didn’t need, and all the times I stole from people to get things I didn’t need. I am not okay with it now. Like even the simplest thing of holding a sign when I could have worked.
Could you really have worked? You spend half your day talking to yourself out loud or crying…
I am serious… I don’t think you have as much to feel guilty about as you think. You were just an addict.
Is that how you feel about you?
No, I hate myself too.
We are the same person, and I tricked you.
A child in their teens poses a question in this novel I am reading, that I feel compelled to answer, because I feel it applies to me.
No, Willow. I paid attention in class, I have a MA in Public Policy and graduated with 3.43. I have an minor in philosophy, and my BA is in Political Science, which I graduated with a 3.2 in because I was drinking heavily the whole time.
I paid attention in class, but realized that Political Science caused me to drink and use drugs, but it is the only subject other than fiction and Philosophy that interested me, because it was about the nature of man. I found myself with nothing to do with my life because the system was criminal, or I thought it to be, so I decided if I could not get behind it, I would slowly die, on the streets. I am not a brave person, but I am recovering from mindslaying fear, and going to use my writing to do something positive eventually.
Not where I am, where I was, and where I wish my back yard was.
I used to sleep outside, so I woke up at 430 because that is when things start waking up outside, people and animals. I would start hearing noises outside, so I would wake up, and have to move my position. Now that I am at Diane’s, I wake up at 4:30 and go downstairs, into the basement at 4:30. I do not like to be upstairs. I like the basement, or the outside. I like being left alone.
I am on here for a large part of the morning, talking to myself through this thing, because it is not acceptable here to talk to myself. I talk to myself because I have something wrong with me or different about me, whichever you prefer, Diane uses the words chosing to be different a lot. I have told her, this is not a chose. She does not believe me.
I find now that if I get up 4:30 like I used to, it is explainable, and I am left alone for one and a half hours, which is amazing.
I am on here for the hour and a half, but I also drink coffee, sometimes I read, and I deal with ramifications of the last 15 years, which involve responding to Diane’s inquiries, thinking about how to get out of my present situation, sometimes reading, and sometimes showering. I usually like to shower after I eat, because sometimes eating makes me nauseous and showering helps with that. Plus showering is more time I get to be alone, which I think may be the dominating force in my day, now that I look at it.
I don’t think this is negative, it is simply me showing a desire to move on, and do my own thing.
How about you Amanda?
Yeah, me too. I actually slept.
Yeah, so did I, not that anyone other than you notice because I am alone.
Our family notices, and you are being less of an ***. You actually said you were sorry yesterday, not something I would have done.
It made me look better.
You always have to ruin compliments.
They make me uncomfortable, because I think the person giving them has ulterior motives.
I am you, what ulterior motives could I have.
The most terrifying thing, I have been thinking about all night is what if I am actually normal now that I have realized my paranoid delusions are what were killing me, making me live in a separate reality cast as a madman when that is not who I ever was, riddled by guilt of not saying no to drugs… what if this is a higher power talking to me, telling me it is my delusions, and the drugs and alcohol that perpetuated them, making me into something I am not… and now.. now I hear something higher… and I am just listening, actively, to the voice of something that loves me. What if it is just trying to save my life, by telling me to stay away from toxic things like drugs and alcohol, what if it is trying to change my fate through compelling my broken soul to change?
I have been casting my eyes to the stars at night, looking for a star that is different, anything that will say that something is speaking to me, that this is not all in my head. That is some sort trial that is supposed to bind my hand to something that is tied to something that is much higher than I could ever have been in my whole life of vagrancy.
I am compelled to meditate in my room, in any room I am in, on this strange call I hear sometimes. It comes to me when I am shaking, or crying in the dark black of night, and the only thing that seems to cure it is church or the powers of over drugs and alcohol that I gain through recovery meetings.
I have always heard this strange music, in my head, when thinking about all this, a chaotic piecing together of sounds, when I think about all this. It sounds like the universe talking to me through sound, but I think I am just insane. I don’t know…
British people are great, free wallop meaning alcoholic drinks, but also meaning the same thing that wallop already means which is to strike someone very hard. That is perfect. It perfectly describes me when drinking, violent. It perfectly describes the deviant reaction of my brain to an addictive substance, which also being a slang term for an alcoholic drink.
Best prompt ever. Done. Thank you wordpress.
I am talking to a reflection of pain
It is telling me trust me, baby, I will make life risky. I am hearing this, and thinking I am bored, and a game sounds fun so, lets go, and I can’t even imagine wanting this now so, no.
I used to be completely self propelled, which may sound completely selfish, but hear me out, **** it, I am changing, and this explains how, and that I am realizing what an *** I have been.
I used to trust no one, because I can’t trust my own **** reality, so any interference with my goals.. was met with strong resistance, although I am trying to be more open to the idea that there are good people in this world. I am beginning to trust the advice of a couple close friends, who have become the only people in my life that have began to shift what I believe to be my goals, and by shift I mean establish, and completely alter, by making it possible for me to even have goals to begin with.
I am eternally grateful to these people, and I am so happy to have them in my life, they are truly the first and only friends I have ever had. The toxic people I surrounded myself with prior to quitting my old drinking/using life style are not even considered in the same category.
These people, have the ability to alter my goals. They are more respected in opinion than my opinion itself. I have never had friends before these people. They change my goals every day, by adding new layers of insight to the foundation of who I even am. I did not know this, until very recently, and still do not even know it now. I am learning who I am through the relationships with others I have begun to form now. They are shifting my ideas of who I am, what I could be, and helping me form new goals.
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
A person with invalid
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,
Or just an addict thinking about things that will hurt me in the morning because **** me.
I used to play Mario, and have hissy fits at the screen when I would lose, I hated it, but everyone liked it, so I would play it and almost break the game system, and ruin it for everyone else. I was never a very happy child.
Everyone else would sit there laughing at making jokes, enjoying the thrill of the game, and I would be thinking about stealing wine from downstairs, because Mario made me so freaking nervous. I was always running of cliffs or jumping into the Goombas, hands shaking with anger or nervousness, and then running away to go find alcohol downstairs. I was 13.
My entire life as far as I can remember, has been very much like this game, a chaotic running into Goombas, or dealers, or cops, or people who want to kick my *** because I ripped them off, or my family mad because I spent all my money on things that no one should spend any of their money on.
I am happy today because I literally forgot, today is my 90th day sober and clean. I am so consumed with being happy about other things, I forgot I was not drinking or doing drugs.
I have never known happiness like this. It cost me nothing, and I can have it by not buying things I didn’t need, if I keep doing the right thing, which makes me feel good anyway.
I emptied both of my laundry baskets last night, metaphorical and physical, instead of throwing all my clothes out and saying I don’t need more than the clothes on my back.
I don’t have many clothes, or I didn’t because whenever I would get angry, I would throw my clothes out, or all over the road, or all over the woods, or leave them at someone’s house, or you get the idea. I leave things places, because I don’t need things… or so I thought.. apparently… that is addiction thinking……
I used to hate my family,
Because they did not understand me.
They told me try to get better, because they don’t ****ing understand me…
Or because they love you, jerk.
I did my laundry yesterday with my mother, and she helped me fold it because I am missing three of my finger tips, because I have done things that caused me to get infections in my hands…
I told her I was sorry, and now my laundry is put away and all of it is clean.
Unfortunately I ruined it, so for now I am stuck with this, and I think I am supposed to learn to release control
‘I hate my life sometimes, because I just want some semblance of control over something, not everything, just something. I feel like I have been in a situation, my whole life… where I am fighting to control everything because I control nothing. I get that I am supposed to stop doing this, and I am trying, but it is like being in a rigged chess game, or that is what it feels like.
How am I supposed to be okay with losing, if I know the game is rigged to begin with?
I know this all just addict thinking, resentment based, my life is harder.. that’s why I got high… got drunk… but my life was the reason I got high or drunk…… I am still in the same horrible positions I have been fighting all my life to escape, just lesser versions of them. I don’t get sometimes what the point of all this is, I guess? How am I supposed to trust something that I don’t understand enough to trust?
I guess I want to change the answer of this post,
I wish I could trust in a higher power more every day.
I am well enough to be left to my own devices, and you can leave me be, without having to try to bend me, and shape me to your vices, your desires to mold the world to your sacrifices, which are not mine, are not divine and are in line with high prices, not willing to be paid by me, to your idea of
Divinity, and your desire to incrementally ram down my throat, ideas that make me choke
Is the reason why I use to toke, smoke, and inject pain in vain in soul devastating reign of pain.
I have had it with you too. I hate everything you do too. I wish you would stop too.
The difference is, I am not saying this. I am not doing anything to you.
I am just being me, and being free, and trying to be.
Free of you and everything you do.
To mold me to be you.
Around my eyes, not on my eyes, because it is the closest I can get to altering my face, without doing the whole plastic surgery thing. I hate my face.
Phil Gennuso Arts ancient volcanomolten temple of creationuntamed vast unbrokenfriend and foe for all time ********************************* This post is a page from my new Ebook, SCRAPBOOK DREAMS, available either from me directly or from my Etsy site: https://www.etsy.com/shop/PhilGennusoArtsVesuvius (#Quatrain #ThursdayMyths #GraphicArts) — Phil G’s Blog/Website
I don’t really understand haiku which is why I never usually review them. I like them, but I am embarrassed by talking about things that I can’t really do myself. You are the first one that I connected with enough to look at this way, because I loved this piece. Thank you for it, and for bringing me out of myself enough to look at the haiku as an art form.
With this in mind…
“ancient volcano”Phil Gennuso
I like how you start the poem with this line, because for me I am attaching this line to the use of the haiku as a style itself, molten, terrifying, ancient technique, standing in front of me in your work which pays homage to a style of writing… I have been to arrogant to be employ.
I like this the use of the following line
“molten temple of creation”Phil Gennuso
Because it is showing me why the haiku is usual for people who can use this meditative style to write. It suggests that writers using this style are doing something different. They use a “temple of creation” being haiku itself to meditative on universal human concepts like nature.
“untamed vast unbroken”Phil Gennuso
I like how you follow it with this line, it made me feel more comfortable after having to deal with the concepts in the first, because like I said, being told what to do scares me, and I think it was comforting to show that you can be untamed, and unbroken while also exploring vast mysteries.
The following line
“friend and foe for all time”
“friend and foe for all time”Phil Gennuso
I think this speaks about human arrogance, but not sure if that was your intention. I might be, like always being arrogant and placing myself into my reading of this.
Thank you for sharing this, I hope I didn’t decimate what your intention was when dissecting it.
I used to be chained and bound, to tree with roots on poison ground, soiled with years of heroic consumption of heroin, meth alcohol, and death, and destruction.
I used to fire fire in vain effort to inject in vein with deathly effort, now instead I have developed a new addiction, a mesmerization with words and fiction, instead of misery mercy through diction. Thank you wordpress for keeping me sane, for saving my life, and keeping from destruction in vein in vain.
Mercy is found when, reflections are made, that bring the eye from ground to sky, that cast the eyes to that which is hire than anything I can fire in vain effort, to fill my blood that is so vital to my survival, with poison instead of being what it is, a gift of life to a soul in diseased strive.
I thank you from the misery of addicted souls everywhere
Something like this, in tattoo form, right on the opposing side of my elbow, on both arms, because it reminds me why I don’t want to do drugs anymore.
Explanation: About drug and alcohol addiction- horse- metaphor used to indicate narrator is ex-heroin junkie, if this is offensive to you, read no further.
I am changing, in ways I didn’t think were possible, thinking myself already dead, doomed, a walking corpse, my whole life, chased and miserable, by a misery demon or resentment personified.
I have spent my whole life running from the voice of this reaper, thinking it to be my doom, my embarrassment, my tormentor, my silent passenger, riding on the back of my soul, like a man rides a horse, making me a horse, and resentment my master.
Today, for the first time in my entire adult life… I realized… I am beginning to derive satisfaction, from something that is pure and unselfish. This is insane to me, an insane person. I am no longer a horse to a demon that rides my back.
I am able to walk again, and for this I am eternally thankful to everything higher than I ever was or could be. I don’t even need a horse anymore.
I am putting this in here so I remember where to find this.
Dude, no way. In 3 days, I will have 90 days, I never get past 61. NO ****ing way. I can’t believe that ****. I can’t believe that my reaction is a mental high five, and writing this on here, and not running for the door and ruining it. ****, I am going to make it to 90 days. I am actually able to do this. I can’t believe this. I actually want this, which means I am not full of ****, which means I am not as much of **** as I thought.
This means I actually deserve to pick up the scattered road kill, that is my soul, dust it off and put it back together.
I can’t believe this… I thought I would have failed by now.
I am so ****ing proud of myself right now, I have never made it this long, and I feel good about this, I am not such a bad person after all.
I have heard this in my head for a long time. I have always wondered what it means. I do not know why I hear it, but I am starting to be able to venture towards some sort of a guess. I think most of my life I have used my ability to use words to get people to do things that facilitate my addiction. I was a manipulator of the human word, serving myself in heaped on pain through being chained to a misery god that desired only my suffering. I did not realize this at the time. I thought it was giving me the ability to survive. I did not realize it was quite the opposite. It was trying to keep me just alive enough and feeding on my suffering while something else, something good kept me alive. I owe my life to that something good, and its sad, I have cursed the something good and served the misery virus in my soul.
I have a very backwards way of thinking, or I did. Now I don’t.
I want now only to bring kindness into this world. It does not make sense to do otherwise.
I am free. I am so happy.
I borrowed time, I know this now, I experienced more of it than most people. I did not realize at the time that I was not borrowing it… well not exactly, I was being lent extra time by something that deals in a currency of spare change. I was being lent time in exchange for something, a deal made with something beyond my understanding, that knew me better than I knew myself, than I know myself now. This force knows everyone. It understands everything, and you can make deals with it, without knowing even. You can make deadly bargains that you don’t know the nature of that are not dealt to you with good or bad intention, simply intention itself, raw intention, raw will, there are forces in this universe, propelled in a direction of will, of will to be as they are supposed to, and if you fight those forces, you will experience, pain.
It is this pain which I fight to reverse now. I have realized recently that the assertion of deadly force of dominance is the opposite of what the universe desires. I have been made aware by the pulling in directions, that there is a force which punishes the assertion of will over the forces of a balanced system. This is all that I know right now.
I am running not from something, but through the earth. I have the ability to move quicker, in my mind anyway than I had before when I was getting high, I realize now how much it was making me slower, I was just slowing down the processes of my mind, which is stupid because this feels amazing. I do not have to worry about anything, because I am no longer doing anything wrong, I can just walk through life unperturbed by anything, seeing everything in clarity instead of the dull blur of drug and alcohol induced psychosis. I notice everything, and am able to act naturally without agonizing over anything anymore, now don’t get me wrong, I remember who I am and that this feeling will pass, but I know I will not forget this feeling. I will not be tempted to go back. I am done now, I have realized that I have something in me that is more valuable than any temporary high, I can choose to be whatever I want now.
I am free, released from the chains of addiction, no longer shackled to a life bound to a misery demon. I have had my mind cleansed, and I owe that to the earth, the sky, the stars, everything around me and above me, that was screaming at me to come back and do the sensible thing, be the human being I was meant to be, not the chaotic screaming infant dying in perpetual spinning spun hissy fit of life coming undone. I am so happy.
Is that breaking the rules? I am adding feet because honestly, I walked from Oregon to California with my friend Chris. It was Southern Oregon and we walked to Northern Cali. I started my journey elsewhere and got all the way across the country and for anonymity so my ex doesn’t mess with me, I am just going to say somewhere north to west, buses- mostly grey hounds, hitching rides, walking, trains, and then a plane ride home and he/she is still in Misery. I am so glad to not be there, anymore.
I never thought I would make it back home. I walked to Cali with my friend Chris the Christian. He was very nice and peaceful and sang to me about God the whole way, and then I got annoyed because he started to say he was falling in love with me, and I walked 150 miles myself, alone on the highway while praying.
This is what proved to me that something was protecting me, because whatever it was, it guided back to my family and I literally walked alone at night on the highway and something got me back home. Thank you to my higher power. That is the only thing that makes sense, I should be dead but something saved me.
Thus far, I have been a tool of a criminal enterprise: street drug addict supporting through undertaking and engaging in endeavors, ventures, pursuits, activities, operations, exploits, missions, deeds of deceit, acts of impunity, actions of cruelty, moves of strategic acquisition, measures of unkindness, tasks of business with the affairs proceeding to schemes or plans of action, programs of simulated pain, on a campaign or project of life down drain.I am so done now.
I am learning that I was stuck in a cycle, going down the drain, a cycle that I am not out of, but aware of now. I am still in the cycle, I just can catch myself when I realize I am about to disappear down the drain, the whole honesty thing is really powerful. I am crazy so I really believed I was doomed and would always be alone, stuck in my psycho delusions, ranting to myself about not being at fault, knowing that it was my weakness, and desire to assert instead of show strength that caused my drain circling. I am learning that like this metaphor, such is my life. I figured out through everything going on with me, that I am able to let poison out and let it go down the drain without having to go down the drain completely, myself. I am a human being and there are no drains that fit human beings down them, because that is not necessary.
I know this after the chaotic torture fest that has been the contents of this blog. I am so thankful I did this, I don’t think I would be alive right now if I had not written this down, and am thankful every day, for all of you, all of this, and a life that is very much worth starting over.