Looking Forward, by looking forward backward forward

I am looking back without you there, because you never should have been to begin with. Now that you are not with me, I see we never should have been at all, so to go forward, I need to look forward, by looking forward backward forward.

You are no longer with me, because I should never been with you, and although I liked you then, this was always true, always will be too.

You were a sunset, as beautiful as one, sometimes, but you were a sunset all the same, an ending, not a begining, but an ending, of a time, when I didn’t know myself, and didn’t want to.

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I sing

Swans mate for life, am I told this is true.

So I think of a my life, and how I was with you.

I am not sure, if this is true for us, too.

I put me in a box for so long, so I would not be myself.

I put me in a box with needle, spoon, and bottle on shelf, now I represent me with a swan, because maybe I can be something else, no longer just an addict with love affair with destruction and bottles on shelf.

I am not sure if I was supposed to be with you.

Now I am alone, and I feel sometimes it is for life, because I have PTSD and our break-up cut me, like a knife, but there is a part of me that wonders if it is true, that like a swan, I was destined only for you, and now that we are apart, I should be alone, destined only for nothing, just the idea of alone.

I am not sure, if any of that is true, only sure I no longer like you, you ripped out my heart and made me realize I no longer like men.

Maybe there is another swan, and I was never supposed to be with you to begin with, maybe there is another swan for you, as well.

At this point, I hope that is true, two different swans for both of us, I am sorry Rei, I am sorry I hurt you in any way I hurt you, I am sorry, and I hope you find your swan, I am sorry I hurt your feelings.

I was at the end of my rope, so sad that I would choke on air, staring at the ground, fixating on the act of down.

Who are you?

How do you find peace?

What brings to the land of beneath?

He had no name, he had no place, he was like me, his life a race, a quest for food, for place to be, he now lives in a house with me.

Diane took him in, and now he lives, on a bed with Diane and her kids.

You glow, sweetheart… so much brighter than the sun.

The sun is falling, and night will come, and in the encrouching darkness, we are left, in the theft of day, and light’s cleft, you sit on a tree, looking at me.

I am wondering what there is even left to see. I am the act of dying of the idea of bee, I am the seed of hating the idea of me.

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 ****.

Cranberries are not dates.

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.

For once, in my life

Let me be what I want to be

You do not win, you are not free, you live with us, with her and me, you do not win, you are not free. There is not one there are two of us, you do not kill the both of us. You can stay, but so can we.

You have to go.

Why don’t you ask her, honey? Why don’t you, huh? She doesn’t want you.

I don’t want you, and it is my choice who leaves and who stays, it is my mind, I am not her slave. Why do you think you were the voice of resentment?

See, I am not the ****ing bad guy, for ****ing once, it is clear I am not the ****ing bad guy. Thank you.

I am 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…

The Laughing Woman, and the Krystal Ship

Her name was Odessa, such a beautiful queen, she came to me in California, and saved my life with a dream, she told me she valued me for what she did see, she did not see me as the dread Rei Clearly saw me, she saw what I was, I started to cry, she told me fear not, need not live a lie.

You touched my heart

She told me she loved me, though me she did not know, she touched my hand, and kindness, she began to show, she said a prayer for me, and took all my worry, the pain in my eyes, the pain made eyes blurry.

She cried for me, and kissed my tired hands, and is one of the people who gave me strength to stand, on my two feet, though I really have four, she made me feel like a human, not a dead bleeding sore.

Looks delicious

I am touched with blare, glare, re-colored from grey despair, I am looking at this from different chair, and it looks not half bad, not half good, because I am looking back.

The act of being with a person forever, looks not half bad too, if I didn’t have to be with someone I hated, if I didn’t have to be in denial of my own reality.

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

You really should stop doing that.

Why?

You sound like an ***hole when you do that.

No I just sound like we are happy to not be with that ******* you were with before.

I am standing in a room alone, talking to my best friend, myself or whatever, same thing, and we are laughing.

The wind blows, and we hear this song, that sounds like everything in the universe connecting, all the sounds into a song, a song where all the sounds in the universe make a song, connecting in a way that is sounds like that, and it is so loud, I can no longer hear anything else. For anyone wondering this is a side effect of brain damage from having been up two weeks at time. It is not pleasant, and not desired, and very uncomfotable.

I am in your kitchen, and have your sole, of your shoe, because I have one of those too, and there is nothing you can do, because you can’t run, you have no legs to stand on, and I look at my legs and they are slowly turning the color of the fridge, white, white, white, with death with lack of blood, and……

TBC

Without you my life is hell, and though I live to tell, I can tell you I am quite unwell, I only talk to myself, and dream of bottles no longer on my shelf, and dirty pinging needles, and rocks that taste like batteries, it is quite sad, being this mad…

I have realized now I am insane, and that it was not my disdain for you that caused me to want to leave you there crying on my arm chair, playing with your pretty dark hair, you are on my brain, my mind, at the tip of my tongue, because I realize that I do not miss being spun as much as I miss fun.

My heart did beat for you once, and became slightly inflamed, fighting narcissism and posion in my veins.

For now I am alone, and maybe someday will bring myself out of myself, and finally use a phone to call someone other than myself.

It sits upon me

It sits upon me, and I know not why, I am hot and pointed to sky, not really pointed, because I am flat, It is a perch in that way and only that.

I am quite hot, and think that I

May be frying bird, sitting on my eye, I am as sharp with light as a

Needle

Rushing with

Speedle, glowing with chaotic rejection of night, glowing with light, glowing with glow, I am going in the act of gooooooo slow… to the sky, raising I’s up hiiiiiiiigh. I am so very………high.

I am……very toxic………….. aren’t I?

How many times have I made this bed?

I am room 39.

I am ironic because I am very eeriely close to 36.

I am a room in a motel, but I am also a number close to 36.

I am a number with a 3 and a 6 flipped upside down, which is the same as the hands that write this on a computer.

I am a room where there is a ghost that locked these hands in a closet for an hour.

We used to have a multi-faceted superstitious belief system, we meaning you, not me this time. That certain things would bring about luck, and that these things were to be trusted before even our mental faculties. I wonder now, were you just trying to make me go insane slowly?

I represent a lucky coin.

Don’t look at panhandled money until we are done panhandling

Don’t stay together the whole time.

Split up and double the money.

You were lying to me, so you could steal from me, when I wasn’t looking. If I accused you of doing that, you accused me of having an episode.

I love everything about you, baby, so glad, so elated to have met you face to face, you are a creature of grace.

I am nothing, I am magic, I am an eye. I am a liar, I am crafter, I am wordsmith, I am an enchanter, I am the act of lying down, I am taking nothing standing. I am the idea of withstanding.

You are really ****ing arrogant.

Really, I had no idea.

That was great.

So am I.

Obviously.

I know, right.

I am full of hot air

Not a question?

Clearly, can’t you see?

***hole.

I am not sure why you didn’t come with me, baby. I thought you wanted to go, but you decided at the last minute to stay behind. I think it is okay, you seem to have gone through the same mental changes, so it does not matter that you didn’t go, so don’t feel bad.

I am sorry, I was on pause, I got scared. I was not able to..

To bring yourself to admit weakness? And you thought I was?

Golden site in cold dark night

Will of the phoenix, will of the gods, flying so brightly, fighting all odds, you smash into nothing, you fight cold hard truth, you smash into everything, you are my youth, you have no mercy, you were a toy, you were elation, mixed with bitter attempts at joy.

I am a ball of writing agony, I am forever sad to see you go, say it isn’t so, so sorry, oh so sorry, to have to say no.

I long for you badly, think of you in mourning, I wish I was back when I was thoroughly enjoying…

Anything but this, anything but this, please bring me, anything but the sensation of perpetual hit and miss, I am no longer anywhere, anywhere at all, distilled by lack, and oh, so self-involved, I meditate on something, that wasn’t even my past, on an image of success, when I am flea bitten with lack.

I am the bad guy, and you just wrote a love poem to heroin.

Yes.

Is that what you really think?

Yes.

You realize you are insane?

Yes.

So this is what it has come to, the one word answer game, so you look good and I look bad?

You are not real.

You are digitally remastered, by a master of disaster, which is why we no longer speak, because my soul was obsessed with the act of living beneath.

I hated you because you were not like us, not me and me, but me and my friends, who had given you trust, but did not trust me, because they should not, because I am a liar an an ***hole when I am using.

You gave me a wolf tattoo on my arm, I asked for a cat and you put a wolf on my arm, and now I forever remember you, because you knew me better than I knew myself.

I am small with regret, a tramp stamp, made by neglect.

To clear site, sight, sited, right.

There was a shadow behind you, that I did not recognize every time I looked at you, and I never thought about it before, and even though this is obviously not you, because I would never put a picture of you on the internet, and you were born a guy, so you looked like a guy, the shadow is there, so I used this.

I altered this so I put the shadow there, obviously. I am talking to myself anyway, who cares.

---

Serve me, please, get on your knees, I am addiction, you are my servant, and I am behind all addicts who fake a smile

---

I am holographic, and I glow, with your inability to admit that you are the same as someone who used to love, who became addicted to the act of push and shove

She hurt you so badly, did she really, was it really Rei Clearly?

That’s not even her real name, you dirty liar.

I came for her because I come for all addicts too, I am addiction and I am what lives in you all, she didn’t screw you over, she screwed herself, in a worship act of bottle on shelf, needle and spoon, all for myself.

Sound familiar, it really should, you are a hypocrite with nose of wood.

When is the last time you took a risk? How did it work out?

I hated Oregon, so I walked out, and down the road away from those had turned their backs on me and friends who they stole from back long ago when we still talked, and then I began to walk slowly away, in reality not metaphor, I became a ghost to all those I knew before, walking far away till I was gone, and they knew of me in memory or songs we used to sing when we were together, painted in similar colors, like birds of a feather, now they are all strung out together and I am far away.

Now I am far away, where I am sure to stay.

A risk it was but really not, and though in similar circumstances, I got caught when I was in another state, it was at first oh, so great, just simply to be far away from those I hated and wanted to stay at far distance from because they betrayed me, and now, I am in different state entirely.

I don’t regret any of it, anything at all, I am sick of people who get off on making them big and me small. I am done with any of it, any at all. Just glad to be far away from it all.

I spit green fire. I am beautiful. I am a super human, born of strength.

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…

just hanging out

I think I would be happier like this, completely alone, talking to myself as my partner.

Hey, isn’t that what we are doing now, and doesn’t it ****?

Yes.

Than what the **** are you talking about???

I am the flower of devour.

That I am insane, and don’t know what else to say, and I am trying to make someone laugh, even if it is just you?

So you are talking to yourself on a blank screen, trying to type things that make you feel good about yourself?

Yeah, isn’t that what the book of faces is???

I don’t think anyone on that thing is looking in a mirror talking to their own face as if it is another person?

They aren’t? That is what it looks like to me.

That is because we are insane, and it is not what they are doing, because they are not insane.

That sucks.

For us or them.

Well, mostly them.

Why?? Not what I expected to hear…

Because, we never have to be truly alone.

Or, we are always more alone than anyone ever.

Other than maybe Gollum on Lord of the rings.

My whole is not my fault. I was scre… can’t even sarcastically say this, this is insane, not true, ****.

I had nothing to do with this, I had nothing to do with this. I had nothing to do with this, my whole life is very short, I had nothing to do with this.

I am blame.

I am not at fault.

It was fate from the very start, I have done nothing wrong, my whole life, Hell’s theme song.

I am such a bad liar.

My hand! My hand!

I am laughter, I am contention, I am a soul with no potential for redemption.

It’s all because of you, not anything I do, I got dealt such **** cards, look at me, my life was hard.

It’s got to be my hand, my hand, because I am missing my finger tips on three fingers, my thumb, my right one, the right one, the one I used to write with, not I type with… that has to be the reason that I failed, lived a life of ship has sailed, clearly not that I jumped off, long ago.

Your hand happened, our hand happened when we were 32, you are 36, four years was not all the ruining we did…

You said we, not just you…

I know, I feel sorry for you sometimes.

Yourself, stupid.

I know stupid, I am good at that.

Wow, that is disgusting don’t type that…

Oh I know, I thought that too, I am always right behind you.

That is creepy as all Hell.

Guess, what it got us.

It is just as well.

I was so glad to meet you.

I will not write ya, other than sarcastically.

I am aside, because I hide behind narcissism, a deadly schizm, made by fear, I am not able to hear anything critical at all, I will cut my ****ing ears off…

I hate myself enough…

What happened to you that day, when I didn’t care enough to come find you in New York, I was your phone a friend, and I am afraid, always, when I think of you, that you went back home, because of me, because I didn’t care.

We were each others only friends, for a time, albeit short, like my other friends

INABILITY TO MAINTAIN LONG-TERM RELATIONSHIPS

That goes for you too, ****.

I wasn’t the one talking.

Your hand is caught by lack of light

You sit in an empty room, friends have gone, you linger on, wishing for those with your desire for a party dead, you turn your head to the corner of the perpetual lurkers, the pained smirkers, reality deserters, wondering were we go so late, how great a party that never ends, we could be your best friends, we party till we are dead. You think this is funny, because you don’t realize I am serious, and that is not fun, but mere compulsion.

We are those who lurk below, where time goes fast and go slow.

We are those who can’t say no, and slowly it has begun to show.

If you want you can come to Hell, where we the consumers always dwell, it is not advised, and you would do well, to leave us where we rot…

We are no longer at a party, baby, we are merely ****ing crazy,

I am pour, pour, poor

I am more, more, more

Such a chore

I am sure

and a bore to maintain

This level of perpetual

Disdain

we drink till we fall down, we get up and continue to crawl the ground, we stand with powder dust, we have lost all ability to trust our senses, we exist in chaotic hell, under poison spell, we eat our souls through bitter consumption of acid bile.

I smile with the power of intoxication and fixation on meditation on the idea of eventual death. I am the quest for lie die fry. I am a funny lie.

Must not sleep…

I love you baby, sweetie, honey

You make me feel so very funny. It is about you sweetheart, not about the money, I will do anything you say, you just have to make sure that you

I am the ever told lie, I am the act of why why why

I am everything you do being inconsequential, I am the consequences of a life lived as

Ball and chain Ball and Chain Ball and Chain

No not him not him not him

I am addicted to

ACID REIGN

ACID REIGN

Down

Down I…. hope I don’t

Hit the ground, hit the ground, must be up up up

Please don’t let my eyes

Shut. I must remain awake, for fear of what will happen when I am asleep. I can’t watch who is coming on the street if I sleep, please don’t let me fall asleep.

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.

Tell me a story….

Following Me

Forever walking on solid ground

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………..

Are you doing well?

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.

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

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

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

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

Ever So Slowly, The branches fell

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

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

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

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

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

I am a bottom feeder

The ocean a place of dark meditation, because of my continuous situation, which is no longer continuous, but was percieved to be, because of me percieving anything that was dark as continuous, continuing forever.

Do you see stardust when you look into the sky?

Do you see so clearly it makes you cry?

What did you see when you stood with her?

Did you see clearly or did you see blur?

What made you so sad when you looked up at night?

I was hated myself, hated the light.

I spent a lot of time, screaming while viewing you, screaming with no one, into nothing, while looking at myself reflected back at me, into my own face, into the wind which always shot back at me….

The night skies were always blue when I was with you, because I hated me, and reflected it on you.

I am now seeing,

That I was always screaming at me.

I was angry at me, for being there alone because I hated me, not any of you,

Not anything

Not anyone

Not any power

In the sky

Or below

Just me, always, but not forever

Slowly realizing

I hated me… the whole time.

I am the heart of glass, I am fragile, but that will pass, filled with darkness from the past, but given peace I think will last.

What are 5 everyday things that bring you happiness?

• Clean Clothes
• Access to running water
• Safe place to sleep
• Waking up to seeing my family
• Access to coffee, nicotine, and food

“Do not fear death, but rather the unlived life. You don’t have to live forever. You just have to live.”

Natalie Babbit, Tuck Everlasting

In a tunnel in California, I am reminded of my friend, who had traveled the world, and given everything to a woman, who wasted it all before wasting away herself.

She was addicted to heroin, ironic because she was his heroine herself, dying tragically of cancer, while he paid to ease her suffering, not caring that she was spending all of his money, he only cared that he was doing whatever she asked.

I saw so much suffering out there, so much pain, I was so used to it, it is still hard to see anything else. I look for it even now, as I write this to you, but I am starting to open my eyes, and be able to see clearly, they have been shut a long time….

I am the painting of a perfect day, that is not perfect now, but the ideal, that exists, and is the possibility of beginning to feel

I am the idea that one day I will be, because I can see, so I can come out.

I am the feeling of not having to feel perpetually without.

I feel hope, I feel peace, even if I scream and cry, I can feel the possibility of something if I keep going and continue to be honest with myself,

I will discover what else is out there, I am not always stuck here.

I am the ability to see forward motion, if anything that is what is different, I am may at sometimes, be chaotic, pacing itself, runing or chasing, but I see forward motion, a direction, a towards, not a forlorn staring, always and forever into nothing. I am at least focused on somewhere not nowhere.

I used to be nowhere, desiring nothing, wanting only more nowhere, because nowhere had things not found in somewhere, but only in the perpetual pause of nowhere, justified,

By distilled misery, put on ice or intensified, and injected into situations to be experienced rapidly, thinking that it would feel better slowly or quickly eating my own death, than experiencing life on life’s terms.

If nothing else I see this now, I see clearly now, and I may cry, or scream, or fight the universe, I may have a hissy fit the whole time, but I am no longer diluting my reality so I can consume it shot by shot.

You are not her, but you look like Samantha

You showed me how to love anything again, being my friend when I was not even a friend to myself, licking my hands, when I was still not over the missing finger tips, showing me it is okay to have gone astray.

I had a cat like you once, who died tragically, and I never got over it, until you, your liking of my wounded hands, also helped me like my own soul again, forgiving myself for the fact that I am not super-human and couldn’t save your fellow cat from peril, when I could barely save myself.

One day, I will be were you are, I hope.

Your licking of my hands, licked the wounds that were made on my soul so long ago, when I was too drunk to think clearly to save anyone but myself from what befell my life.

I love you as I loved my other cats, and some part of me thinks you will tell them for me, because I can feel them forgiving me for not being super-human enough to save them, when you lick my hands.

That is a very strange way of saying my birthday is in 2 days.

I was born when you were 8.

True.

Where do you run?

If it kills me, it kills me.

If it kills me, I am stronger.

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

It has a hand in my death.

That is because we let it.

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

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

What do you run from?

Me.

You are the lack of the divine?

I am fear incarnate.

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

Okay.

Yeah, they remind me that I get acid reflux from drinking, because alcoholism has eaten my stomach lining, killed sensation in my hands, and caused my mental illness to get worse.

Thumbs up?

For realizing that or for destroying myself?

Which one do you think?

Both?

Wrong.

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…

Thanks, jerk.

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.

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

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

Having a hard time being alone?

Yeah, kinda.

I am too.

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

***hole.

What?

Isn’t that what you are doing?

Yeah..

Then why am I an ***hole?

Because I hate it when you are right

You hate being right? I love being right.

That is why I am friends with myself.

Wow. Facts.

I am the Crow 2.

I am the crow too.

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

I am the crow, two

There are two of me.

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

Penny for your thoughts?

No I am sparring not sparing change.

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

Ahahahahahhhahahahhahhhahahahhahahahhahhahahhahahhahhahhahahah

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

I am the non-heroic heroin user.

I am resentment of past action.

I am true admissions of a soul attacking soul attacker

I am hopefully getting over this.

I am actively seeking forgiveness.

I know this comes from something higher.

But I am more comfortable crucifying myself.

I am more comfortable doing this to myself.

I need help.

ahhhahahhahhahhahahhhahahhahhahahhahhahahhahha

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoO Look at you, show off.

OoO Look at you show off.

That is mature.

Says the most mature person in the world.

I enjoyed the Easter thing, did you?

I wasn’t there, you were.

Yeah, you were. You were just uncomfortable.

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

Stop thinking about putting things up your nose then.

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

I eat in Hell

You have severe issues.

So do you, I am you remember?

I don’t have the same issues.

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

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

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

Oh, good one?

Yes, learning.

Thank you?

You’re welcome.

Do you 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

Used to see this sometimes when I looked in the mirror, because I am prone to holding grudges.

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.

It tasted good, but gave me acid reflux.

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.

Untitled

Untitled

The fire of firing fire

The fire of addict’s desire

I light my own funeral pyre

I am done, done, done

Unspun, undun.

So done.

This is all reflection

On a life retossed

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

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

I was nothing. I was nothing.

I was nothing. I was nothing.

I was with him, I was with you.

I was ran. I was running.

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

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

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

In jest.

Untitled

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.

The real deal

If you don’t want it, let me use it?

No.

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

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

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

It’s my body.

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

That’s ****ed up.

You made the deal.

I know and now I regret it.

Well, it’s reversable.

How?

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

Seriously???

No.

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

Drunk in public is not even a serious charge.

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

I don’t like wet clothes.

Neither do I.

Fine, deal?

Yeah, see you later.

Daily writing prompt

What’s something most people don’t understand?

View all responses

I am trying, really I am.. I am telling this to myself right now, because I either beat the **** out of myself or worship the ground I walk on, which is insane because that would mean I am always stepping on my own self, which is true I guess… because my lack of introspection does exactly that. I guess that is why I have characteristically had very few friends, because I have a method of dealing with conflict that is basically I don’t deal with, get mad and repress my own emotions until I am screaming on internet about doing things that make me hate myself? I see a pattern here… Wow that helped.

I guess it is something I didn’t understand too, and I am one of those people or them or meth thinking. them and meth are the same word rearranged by the way, released this when I was really freaking high, thought it was cool till I realized that it was all a metaphor for me destroying myself with drugs.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2023/03/12/wordle-596/

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…

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.

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

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

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

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

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

From Me,

Misery’s slave

GET OUT. NSFW.

https://wordpress.com/tag/dailyprompt-1837

I would rather cut out both my eyes, so I can’t see to organize than I would do what you say with my stuff, I’ll throw it out, now go away.

I rather do that than hear your voice, telling me where to put it, like it it’s your choice. I do not need your help. I do not care, what you say about where to put what away.

It’s a mess, and I don’t care, what you say, and will not put that there. I don’t want advice, just to be left alone, give me back my stupid old phone. It has stuff on it that like, and yes it works, and I know I have two, but I do not want to deal with you, so get out now, go away.

It’s a mess because I am too, and I don’t want to deal with you, and will not listen to what you say, so throw it out and go, scram, stray.

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.

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2023/03/25/weekend-writing-prompt-304-mail/

I turn on my computer, and open a word file, got mail from myself.

YOU SUCK, and I hope you die.

Schizophrenic email is awesome, so glad I opened it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Misery cycle.

Mercy cycle is harder.

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

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

https://lindaghill.com/2023/03/24/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-march-25-2023/

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.

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/13680591/posts/4621777173

They tell me,

“Anger or Defiance is not Polite Behavior.”

I think that is a load of ****.

If I kick this chair, over and over till it breaks, and then say I am sorry over and over, then I did not make a mistake. I am not good at give and take, because it is all your fault, because you take, take, take. So I am going to have to break, break, break

This chair, right now.

SMASH.

I am not a fan of chairs anyway, they are stupid. I don’t like something telling me how to sit. I will sit, however I want. I don’t need a stupid chair.

Look at you, stupid chair, lying in the floor? Who is sitting up now?? Neither of us. I am sorry, by the way, someone nice probably made you, and I ruined it.

****.

Daily writing prompt

Who was your most influential teacher? Why?

View all responses

I had this teacher in 8th grade who had all of us do this writing anthology, all of us meaning even those of us with learning disabilities, I have hydrocephalus, so I am bad at math, and they pegged me into the classes that were for those with learning disabilities even though I am not bad at English or writing, which did focused on remedial skills, and I was bored, and sat there and did not pay attention, because I was not meant to be in that class. I was one of the kids with an IEP. Individual education plan, which said that I had learning disabilities, but due to a lack of understanding of the brain because they are teachers not doctors ,they thought I had learning disabilities in everything not just math and geography. I am visually/spatially challenged due to hydrocephalus. Seeing the reason for See Clearly?

This woman made everyone do the anthology and used my anthology as a reason to fight for me the next year to not be in remedial English in HS. She also said this to me.

“If you don’t deal with your anger, you are going to ruin your life, and you can use the writing to do that. You like it, and it is a positive outlet,”.

I wish I had listened, but she still remains the most influential teacher in my life, I would not have kept writing if it wasn’t for her. I just always thought my writing was awful. I just did it instead of crying…..

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

Willy wonka

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

Dante Alighieri, Dante’s Inferno

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

YOUR THOUGHTS ARE NOW MINE

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

No, it’s not…..

I am……..

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

METH

From them

Funny spelling, does it speak to you sweetheart?

You are so clever speaking to me with MY voice.

It’s his voice, you are nothing.

It’s my voice.

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

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

DOWN THE DRAIN

End transmission.

I walked through life before, chained to a wall of lies, without knowing it. I was bound to that wall, like a dog on a lead that could only stray so far from a yard of bound pain and suffering. I did not remember enough to even remember there was anything other than that dark yard, where there was no difference between a couple feet in front of me and one hundred miles down the road.

It made no difference to me where I was, because I had no memory of anything, and as long as I was getting what I believed to be my needs met at the time, I had no preference for that yard or any other yard. It was this that drove me away from California. When I realized that the drugs weren’t working for me anymore, there was a difference between the yard and the freedom of life of being unchained from the wall, but the thing was I had no idea what to do after being released, and in a state of psychotic PTSD I ran around frantically searching for anything that meant enough to chain me to another lead. I found nothing, and feeling myself slipping into psychosis, I checked myself into a hospital that they would not have let me out of, had my family not saved me. I was not allowed to move from the chair I was in, and if I did, someone would follow me, even to the bathroom. Everyone in there was like me, they all were very nice, and I liked them.

We all had similar stories, but only shared them with each other, and when people were listening we would stop speaking.

This makes me wonder, how crazy we actually are, or if we are just different people who have seen things, people would like to believe untrue.

A journey through MISERY

PUSH
PLUNGER
GO
ON THE EYE OF A NEEDLE
RIGGED WITH SPENDTHRIFT
DEATH

Forgetting is a tragic problem I have, but it is getting better, as my ego dies, and I open my eyes to the fact that I could not see, because I was sick and deranged by a disease strange and prone to mange and change human form, to distort and contort the human body, and make it unrecognizable to the have-

er of one.

I have been know as a chaos chaser of dragons, a pusher of substance, and prayer in holes of foxes, in ditches, in alleyways, a shooter of heroes, and a placer of ins and outs in acts heroic so I can go without doing them, pushing them in with sowing needles that stitch me out and in to a quilted madness in the bed I was making and would have to lie in and lay in, in death.

I have come to a place now where I can go home as well, well too.

This home allows the chaotic night to continue without my pushing assertion of madness, and it is a little quieter minus one night crier night crawler, who now sleeps and dreams.

I know you don’t know me, but I am lonely, and I want to know you, whoever you are, whoever is lonely too.

I am very sad, and want someone just like you. I don’t know who you are, I don’t know why, but you are like me, and we cry with similar cut eyes.

I hope you are okay, I am not. My head is hurting, my hands are hot.

My heart is broken, I am alone, and I hope you hang on, person who is also by unanswered phone. Please don’t be sad, I am sad too.

I don’r want for you anything I feel too.

Can we just pretend for today? Just pretend that we already know each other so you will be okay?

I am lonely too please don’t give up.

I want to meet you. Don’t die before we meet up.

It is an insane release of tension to write dark horror. I don’t care what anyone thinks… I am going to do what I want now. I am an ***.

I am trying to be more honest and am not going to do the whole fake it thing, I am still the same **** with dark thoughts, I think the key is to find outlets for my rage issues and not hurt myself or bite people’s heads off. I think it is a good outlet for repressed aggression and makes it easier for me to not lash out at people around me. I am very passive aggressive and have a lot of repressed rage I channel into writing…

Sorry.

Damien

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/19271780/posts/4613911340

I decided to leave a party that a random stranger must have decided to organize to celebrate the Spring Equinox. I was not acquainted with any of the parties occupants as I had not been invited, so my leaving was of no consequence to any of the participants in the costume party. I had a hooded jacket on that had been long enough to pretend I was dressed appropriately enough to pretend that I was invited and came as some sort of modern hooded reaper, which was appropriate given the reason for my leaving.

I had become nervous while talking to a women who was dressed as a woodpecker, she was laughing in this hectic desperate way, and it was maddening, her jaw chattering and I kept thinking of the sound of a woodpeckers beak on wood, and thinking about how different her head would sound if I slammed it over and over into the tree branch that was so bright and illuminated by the light of the moon. Rather than then prolong the uncomfortable death meditation, I took the rest of my pitcher of stolen booze and walked off with preference to animate the already dead corpses in my squat house.

https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2023/03/15/three-things-challenge-m268/

My life does not have the luxury of being private, it has been dominated by screaming into dark night, a chaos flight on the wings of a dragon, pivoting around the eye of chaos by a pilot that flies dragons, in a plane of thought not a plane. In other words you are reading the adventure of a person who ventures through worlds of thought not worlds in this reality, although these worlds do combine. They are more combined now then ever. I have ventured through Hell or Misery and back, slaying dragons, or I mean riding or chasing them. I do not chase them anymore, my vain in vein efforts have left me too charred by the embers of injected Misery.

I was the pilot of a dragon, or of a body that was full of the blood of a dragon for most of my life, pivoting around the drain, a tragic dance that I did for 15 years of my life and lived to tell about it, because something saved me, and I owe my life to that something, whatever it is. It allowed me to live, because I think it wants me to tell this story, and share what I learned, being poised to find poison and poison one’s own blood, is something I will no longer do, I have seen too much death, and want only life now. I am done pivoting around the drain. I am now in the process of rebuilding my life so it can be more private, instead of being dominated by the psycho screaming of a chaotic night crier.

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2023/03/21/photo-challenge-458/

The quilts blow in the wind, the dangle in the flapping breeze that does so well to dry them, after having been bathed in the river, washing them of their previous… stains… I used to be prone to.. bleeding on things. Lots of things… so I had lots of blankets… that I stole from an artist named Sara Whiley. I don’t know much about the woman, just know the name for some reason. Strange. I am glad the quilts are drying. They are actually quite beautiful.

They look a lot better now that I have slept. I like the colors of them. Maybe I should give them back. Maybe I give them back I can leave Misery, my land of addiction in my mind of psycho delusion and love myself enough to be a real human being all the time, not just sometimes.

This is already happening dufus.

Oh yeah, right.

I am the split of two souls

I have always felt like I am being a girl/I have always felt like a guy.

Damien/Amanda

I have been fighting myself dilated through two universe, a narcissist but also a hater of myself, psychotic two spirit with soul split in misery and dilated through drugs, dumb, and blind because I chose to be, but I am really two spirits second chance, they are in this together fighting for redemption. They are two souls that would have been in misery without each other.

I am a chaotic mad chasing, not of nothing but of my own self, which existed with me the whole time, I was just too arrogant to see that my higher power had given me something different. Thankful for today. I will no longer use this to change my voice and commit petty crime.

I can die later, when it wants me to, only it knows that.

I realize now why this was done, we were both so arrogant we needed to be brought to our knees. We did this in psychosis, the only way we knew how a narcissist drowning in life trying to be with themselves. I can live with myself now because me and Amanda or Damien and I are the same person. BAM. Thank you, to a power higher than for teaching me the hard way, the only way I would listen.

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 feel really weird, I don’t know what exactly just sunk in, in my mind, but I am done. I don’t care anymore. They can do their thing, it is not my problem anymore, I don’t care anymore. I don’t even like them anymore, why would I want to be with someone I don’t like anyway, why does it matter who I thought someone was if that is not who they actually are. I feel.. great.. actually, like I had food poisoning or something and it just passed… I guess I got everything I had to say out of my system. I think it was something about writing about moving on that just clicked with me. I just don’t answer the phone, simple. I get a new number. I am done… nothing more needs to be done about any of it, we have no more ties to each other.. I am done.

Oh my god…. I am done….

I never have to deal with that again.. This is awesome.

I don’t even have any words.. I am free.

Wow.

You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?

The sound of automation is mesmerizing, the clicking, the shuffling, the beeping the whirring, shoving and blended talking of all those on the train, who do not know me, and don’t know anything about my past. They have no judgement of me, preconceived or otherwise, busy with their own business. I fade into the background, and watch a world I left behind for a dance with a siren who wanted to rip my soul from my eyes.

My eyes are free now, and look around, not dominated by watching her, they are free to be their own, not called to the service of a master, they watch as the passengers go about their quiet business, and I am inspired by their composure, ability to be so normal, the train is a zen garden of little people, not screaming in overinflated hot blow up doll chaos, they keep to themselves, and I keep to mine, in my mind. I am thinking about leaving this place, misery, and doing something else, thinking and sure that this time, I mean it, because she should not own my words anymore.

I am going to board a new train of thought, and then hopefully get myself together enough to go on a train and do something else.

https://wordpress.com/tag/dailyprompt-1841

“From Me”

I can’t even see, I am so exhausted from making myself cry, clawing and scratching, and scrapping, and ripping and tearing at my own eyes, fighting to make it impossible to use them, so I can never see this again, myself through someone else, who ripped me so far away from myself, I don’t even know who I am anymore.

I am a cat who cannot see the cat in the mirror is them. I jump at the mirror, slamming with full impact into the glass, a marriage of breaking, a marriage of crashing, a marriage of skin meet sharp object, so very much like my tragic love affair with things heroic, but not, because they hide in human skin, and only bring death and pain and loss and women who used me like a severing knife, and then turned the knife on me.

I have become her outer monologue manifest in my mind, manifesting in man of festering infected soul. I am so stupid, I am doing this to myself, and I can’t bring myself to stop doing it because that means I am alone, and I don’t know if it is worse to talk to demonic ghosts or be alone.

I say I am never touching you again, and I am being childish, but you don’t want to know what I meant, and it was nothing against you.

I was in love with you, and I know my hands are dirty because they always are, not physically but metaphorically, that is why they are usually cracked and bleeding and prone to infection, aside from old habits done with fire and shot in vain.

You told me you knew how to help me, I told you I didn’t need your help, and you said I was being selfish, so I let you unpack the suitcase of dirty laundry that is my aching bleeding cut, open wound of a soul, and you donated them all to charity and bought me new clothes, I am not going to wear your new clothes, I am a human being with feelings, and bad as I am, I am still a human being with feelings, and if you hated me so much…. I am starting to be glad you are no longer around, because I would rather be lonely the rest of my life, then ever have to fight with someone while high on my own supply with you who contributed nothing but criticism, when I kept trying to get clean and sober.

Here, you would say, giving me some of yours, which I didn’t know you had, when you were going line for line shot for shot with me, on money bought with gambling that no one figures me out.

I am so tired of thinking of you.

It is dark outside and I am looking at the water, and it is cloudy, so there is very little light, so I can look at the water without seeing my **** face. I hate my face. I hate everything about it, enough to cut it off. Which explains a lot of my injuries…

You told me I was crazy, delusional psychopath, trying to remove me from myself, telling me I was a psycho delusion, that I was not real. I was Amanda’s delusion, telling me to go away, that you wanted to speak to her, well sorry, she is not real, I am.

I am not her, she was a front, a silly sing song mocking bird, painted on like a mask you tattoo on your face with a dirty needles, infectious disease of resent a tattoo scar, of a human being.

Do I know serenity? Not yet, I have not met her or it, or seen it, or felt it, I am consumed on and off by lack, a cutting out of my existence that is still so deep it penetrates my whole body with memory of every time I paid for misery and got misery.

I loved your company, Rei.

We loved your company.

I am so ugh….. I don’t even know… I embarrass myself constantly, this is so hard. I am constantly anxious, I can’t sleep that much, and then other times I feel like I am on top of the world. I guess this is why I used to sedate myself, because I sound like a lunatic, and it is really freaking embarrassing. I just can’t put this nowhere, so I feel like here is better than out loud, because then at least, I don’t have to hear myself. I just want to know what it feels like to feel normal. I have never felt that way in my whole life. I am so done with all of this, but it is not out of my system, because I am still so **** insecure, it is embarrassing.

I wish I could just shut my brain off sometimes. I can’t even do that when I sleep, and I am nervous because I don’t want to do this to myself ever again, but I don’t know how to feel without this intensity. I don’t feel without the extremes. I wish I could be one of those “let it go” people, but I am not. I am just not, and I can’t keep lying because I know I will just drink or get high if I do that, I see that now… and I ****ing hate how the drugs and booze made me feel at the end. I hate who they made me be, I hate what addiction did to my life. I am trying to move on, but this is so hard, and the longest I have ever been clean and sober since I was 18. I am 35.

17 years. Of this.. on and off.

I am so done. At the very least I have that, never again. I don’t want to drink/get high ever again.

Damien/Amanda

https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2023/03/16/reenas-xploration-challenge-272/

I am in a trance, meditating on a deadly wavelength a chaotic hypnosis focusing on a stroboscopic motion, the slicing fan, tragic entrainment , of my mind transfixed on the woman who danced with me, for money and items.

I am dancing right now, with my own death, because I cannot handle living right now, and I don’t want to die, but I am bleeding out a year after losing you, over and over again, triggered by nothing, by you calling me, you texting me, bothering me, so much that I put all this out here on this site, as if it just happened, that is how it feels, like it just happened, but I have bleeding for a year. I am dying over this, and have been for a year, killing myself, with drugs and alcohol over a person who used me for drugs and alcohol. I am disgusted with myself and with her/him. I am so done with all of this, but keep coming back over and over to it, because they won’t leave me alone.

I just want peace, please everything in the universe, please just give me the strength to move on and find something else.

You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?

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.

I am Swiss cheese…..

Except I am not Swiss, and not cheese…

Just a real person… or

Human soul

Full of metaphysical holes in my

Self or the idea of everything I am.

I dug them myself because she told me she would help me, and I am stupid and gullible and believed her/him when he/she told me she loved me. I don’t know why that gives her/him the right to put holes in me.. okay? I don’t even know what love is, and no one had ever told me they loved me, not like that… so I listened to everything he/she said…. I would have jumped off a….Not really…. I would have done almost anything they asked me to, even if it hurt me, and he/she used that to make me do whatever they wanted on a mission for drugs,

And it was so obvious to everyone except me, even those who hated me, would tell me

You realize you are just her source right?

I was just her source of elation and she was everything to me.

I want to….

I could cry, if I wasn’t so numb because my soul hurts.

Please God, can I find something real, please God, please God,,, I don’t want to be alone…I am so sorry for everything I did.. please don’t…. I don’t want to be alone anymore…

Writing that really helped me. The last part, which means prayer just helped me. Thank you to my higher power, I am not crying anymore, numb. sad. but stopped crying.

I don’t know why, but night time makes me want to cry. The loneliness is so intense it radiates through my whole body, feeling like they cut out a vital organ, which is sad because the only vitality I provided you was not vital at all, but fatal, and I done with being a malady, parody and obscene joke that is just your ticket to free toke, poke, or smoke. I hate you so much because you call me all the time, and I never answer and it has been a year and I still wish I could answer, and you would be who I thought you were, and not the soul sucking drug addict leech that cared more about getting high than going with me to the hospital, so you told me my hand wasn’t that bad and I trusted you and now I am missing half my right thumb and I am right handed.. and it kills me, because I have to see it every time I write… and you knew that.. so stop calling about the type writer..

I feel like crying..

How would you rate your confidence level?

10. I am very very fast. I can run faster than anyone I know, most notably faster than this guy whose girlfriend paid me back my… rent money. I loaned it to him.. because I am a nice person? It was 400 dollars I got for standing in traffic at a light, and I am not the kind of person who looks good doing that… so sometimes they pay me to move, it takes a couple hours to make 400 dollars, like 8.

I stood there for 8 hours and had enough to pay the rent for the month or um… make tragic mistakes, you know dice roll. I decided to play double or nothing with my friend who is my business associate at well, well after this, his girl was my business associate and he was my **** for about 2 months. He wanted the power back from his girl.

I have a very um… aggressive approach to business, so people give me what I want.

Being impervious to death helps too… which is why I am turning my life around because I am realizing how I write this what an *** I was, because I think that something saved me all these times, and I proceeded to give it the finger, so it chopped my fingers off? Or the tips of three of them? I don’t think He or them or it really did that… I think it was MRSA and me being a ****.

Moral of the story, I am an arrogant **** , but I am trying to tone that down so… 5 on confidence..

I am standing on a corner waiting for you, and you tell me not to move, because you want to be able to find me, but what you are really saying is you don’t trust me.

Three hours later, I am running around looking for you, asking anyone and everyone where you are and if they have seen you, and hysterically crying, unable to fully run because I am almost choking on how much I love you, and how sorry I am that I wanted any of this at all.

You come up to me, and I ask if you got it, and you tell me you did, and then tell me it’s yours because I moved.. I am sick and about to throw up because I am addicted to heroin, and I am covered in sweat, you say I smell like I have been cheating on you. I start laughing thinking your kidding, and you’re not, you go in the bathroom and use the shit, and tell me to **** myself.

It was my ****ing money. It was my ****. It was my tears cried over you that cost me being sick the whole day. I am so done, but I am not, not yet, but soon.

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.

Yours,

Damien/Amanda

I am coming to a place of peace, which I didn’t think I would ever know, and I owe that to everyone on here, and my family and friends around me physically, and the support I have gotten from those who gave me medical and spiritual guidance so far. I am very much caught up most of the time, in the blame shame guilt thing. Spaced that way on purpose, because there is awkwardness there for me. I like to control everything because I am an addict, I mean to say, which I know I don’t have to keep saying, but saying it helps me. It reminds me that I am not just a rotten apple, unlike the others that are all just a metaphor for good or bad human beings, that should not be compared to something that I can throw in the trash, but the comparison is made on purpose, to illustrate how I behaved in active addiction, which I do not miss at all anymore.

I am getting over everything slowly. I am still not over the whole Rei/Justin thing, and it has been a year of this by the way. The revelations on this site, were not happening in real time, they were a dilation of a situation internal to my mind, that was driving me insane, which was happening in real time, and you saw on here, me fighting with hallucinations brought on by pain. I am sorry for the false presentation of this, if it consolation, this was exactly how it was happening my life as well, with me thinking things at this screen, just not admitting none of it was happening in real time, because it was too painful to admit that to myself.

I am trying to learn to forgive myself, that I am not all bad, but it is very hard, because I have always hated myself.

Love,

Damien/Amanda

I am listening, and I have an instant reaction to something you say, and I react and for a second feel okay, I was honest at least, that’s a step right? I am not lying, I am being honest. I am okay with the world and feel like I am doing the right thing.

Then I think about what I said, and the whole world lights on fire, a fire not burning with flame, but with different colors, that I have never seen before, because I have never experienced a world of color before. I have always lived in black and white, never dealing with light of day, with human being, ruler of land of push away. I sit and agonize over things that are tiny and stupid, and then resent myself for doing it, no one does this. No one has to, they are not stupid. I am stupid and think about stupid things.

Then I realize that they know that I do this, and I think I am in some way better than those around me, and that the fact that I do this makes me superior to them, and that if they only knew how specifically hard to be very specifically me it was they would

DRINK USE TOO

I just got this, that this is the process of what I usually do, and that by taking a step back and not hating myself for doing it… helped me. Thank you random stranger in the park that told me this.

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I am listening to swan lake, which I love because apparently, you make everything about you ****.

I hate you, I love swans, and swan lake, and this song, and I want you gone, out of my head, I want you….

Stop it. Stop it.

You are not that, think of the cat. Think of the cat. Remember what your friend said. Think of the **** cat.

**** his cats.

Oh, so this is about him too now?

It is about all them………..

It’s all for you, Damien.

SCREW YOU. I am not that. I am not that. I am not that.

That was mean. That was mean……

Leave me alone. Leave me alone.

You are alone. You are always alone.

With me.

I hate you.

I hate you. I hate you.

Love yourself, dude.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay.

I am so sorry.

Love yourself.

Please stop.

Okay, I am done.

I feel better.

I am done.

“The world’s a hard place, Danny. It don’t care. It don’t hate you and me, but it don’t love us, either. Terrible things happen in the world, and they’re things no one can explain. Good people die in bad, painful ways and leave the folks that love them all alone. Sometimes it seems like it’s only the bad people who stay healthy and prosper. The world don’t love you, but your momma does and so do I.”
― Stephen King, The Shining

The tortured inn keeper, thinks no one who stays at the inn cares about the inn, thinking that the ins and outs of those without the responsibility of caring for the inn indicate a lack of caring,

That is really coming from within, a manifestation coming from the desire to

GET OUT

Of one’s self, pushing those around

GET OUT
NO

I am you

The caretaker is a drinker, they think this is because they take such good care of the inn, that they deserve a reward

AN ETERNAL REWARD

Manifesting in alcohol consumption or consuming

POISON

They consume it on the regular, but it is not important the frequency just that it eats their

SOUL

ER
ER
ER

SAILING

THROUGH TIME

ER
ER
ER

Back now.

The innkeeper talks to me about keeping fires, about the duties of keeping an inn, and about the need to do things to keep the inn, like make it a little easier, by consuming poison.

I am a frequenter of many motels, so I have met many innkeepers, such tortured, kind hearts, that do not know their goodness.

Trigger Warning: About sex workers and drug addiction, and feelings of longing for love, but also needing drugs in active addiction of heroin/speed/alcoholic addict physically dependent on substances to remain not physically ill…About selling love for money, and the effect it has on the soul and damaging effect on ability to find real love.

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Item Eyes See Itemization of Love, which is not sent from above

Tick- prick- stick-pin prick- Oh, that felt, like-

I will never be loved until I love myself,

But also like I need no one else other than me, because I can buy love with time and money, minutes spent on standing on a corner holding a sign or getting in cars with strangers, or peddling

POISON

I will never be loved until I love myself

I will never be loved until I love myself

I hate myself

I hate myself

I hate myself

Stop. The clock will not move forward in a state of

Click.

Click.

Look back, it is important to remember and forgive not remember. remember. remember. romance the drug. resent. romance the drug. use.

Need to find a middle ground, recognize what you did, admit it and move on.

Click go.