I no longer know what the goal of the site is, I write horror fiction, and love letters to myself.
This site is a tool to facilitate the act of seeing clearly, written by hands that used to hurt myself.
Explanation: I am Damien, I speak to my split personality Amanda. I am two people in love with each other, and I am okay with that now.
I have paranoid schizophrenia, narcissistic personality disorder, bipolar II-manic/depressive- rapid cycling, depression, anxiety, hydrocepholus, narcissistic personality disorder suffering from alcoholism, drug addiction, alcoholic. with OCD and PTSD- was addicted to heroin, meth, crack, alcohol, cocaine, prescription pills.
I am drug addict/alcoholic/dual diagnosis/ex-homeless person.
Through dark horror fiction I rake the muck of the lives of street addicts.
Or in plain English this is an epic poem/novel about addiction told about low bottom addicts in horror style.
Category: time travel
I am fear, I am regret, I am worry, I am stained with past remorse, I am forward course through wonder, that can send you under. I am stained with wondering what could have happened if, I am an ocean of if.
I am what now, without going down.
Waters are around me, because I am in an ocean, or in the air, it matters not where I am, just that I am, where is irrelevant, I am in waters or air, surrounded by being, the act of being swimming in air or waters, in forward motion, keeping my head above, trying to not drown in worry, trying to not be the act of looking down into all-consuming depression, over what if I had done something else, I am the what now of looking forward, and not being consumed by the idea of you are doomed.
The idea of regret, the idea of fret, is a pattern, that encircles us that good at drain rotation, the whirlpool sensation, that can be so comforting, I am trying to swim out, but sometimes remain in the circle of look down.
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.
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.
Everything I had originally is gone, long gone, so I hold nothing dear, except my loved ones, which are not belongings.
Monopoly, monopoly, my life is like monopoly, go to jail, go to jail, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars, go directly to jail.
I threw it all away, when I went away, but before all that I lived in places where I lost it all, over and over and over, due to living in cheap apartments, that had cheap landlords, that did cheap things, that caused me to have to leave, without my belongings.
I mean to say, I have nothing I started with, or
Do not pass go.
Do not collect 200 dollars.
Monopoly, monopoly, my life is like monopoly.
Roll the die, I will bet we get a better roll, we the one with two souls, make it good, make it quick, maybe this time, the idea will stick, that we are one, but we are two, and we get one roll, not four or two.
I am standing blaming you, blaming them, blaming something higher, blaming something below me on fire, blaming circumstance, blaming the wind, maybe one day I will begin to win, but not today, snake eyes now, maybe I should just stop staring down, get my **** eyes off the ground.
I am your brain on… resentment, just like drugs, but not very ****ing fun, but, oh so entertaining aren’t I?
No, you are just a lunatic talking to yourself.
You are so very negative.
You are the one talking to yourself, ***hole.
I love having your voice in my head.
It is my head.
No, it is our head.
No, it is Amanda’s and my head. You are a visitor, who they say is unwelcome, you just come to talk to me, because we are such good friends, and since we don’t want drugs anymore, you are no longer useful resentment.
I am getting good at this, baby. You can leave now.
I brought you a flower, it is nothing.
It is picked from the middle of nowhere, or from nothing.
I mean I can’t remember who you are and was walking, and you are looking at me like you know me, and began talking, and I am holding this, so it must be for you right, and I am sorry, because I no longer have any idea who you are, and this will likely only last a couple minutes, something must have happened that bothered me, and I blanked it out, and now I don’t remember, so here is a flower.
She must have hurt your feelings, this is exactly what happens when people make you cry.
I know this, but I don’t remember why, so it is okay for now. I am just going to forget about it for now.
You should find out why.
Hot air balloon that flies over HELL, below are those who do not even notice, beyond anything that spells their pain and suffering, they cannot see, they are slaves to their sweet misery, they live in resentment, and cannot look up, this is the state in which they are stuck.
In the muck and the mire, they worship fire, which belongs so sweetly, to their own pain, their lack of restraint, so when something flies over, that can save them from themselves, they are not watchful, looking only
My soul burns for you baby, you make me so ****ing happy.
Color me kind, color me quick, bring back my colors, make my colors stick.
Meditate on kindness, not on the dark, brick back the sunshine,
Do not rip out your own heart.
Speak kindly of gladness, bring out bright ways, learn from my sadness, and my wayward way.
I strive for attention, because I am arrogant, and self involved, I am not trying to do this, it is not my resolved mission, I am just used to being ignored, so I do this because I am alone, and to be self assured, if there is nothing else from me to be learned, please take my sadness, and so in life turn, away from what I did, because for you I want, everything I do not have.
I want for you everything I do not have, all that makes you glad, instead of insane, and so very sad, and mad.
So sorry, that is just where I dwell, sometimes, not all the time, really, I am fine, just thinking about you sometimes, not all the time.
You are on my
BRAIN BRAIN BRAIN
In meditative state I reflect on the rain, and think of drowing, a duck with my head up, not breathing, just sucking in the water, and choking on it.
Burn me sweetie, make it hot, burn it so it cures my soul rot. Make it seering, make it jarring, make it burning, make it scarring.
She wore my coat, and I left it with her, because she smelled like lavender, and I wanted to forget her.
You reminded me of the rays of the sun, and that reminded me of someone I would rather
Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.
I am so sorry, wedded to disdain, been with her such a long time, grown so used to being bound to decline, it is always on my mind.
She talks so sweetly sometimes, really, voice sounding so simular, to my ex Rei Clearly,
She tells me she loves me, and sometimes I believe the lie, it is so hard, she is a good spy, has such a good hand, good at act of torture, she is a word sorcerer.
She was kissed by sun, and tattooed by shade, her skin bathed in light, and graced by its going away, she was covered with mist in times of rain, never feeling human pain.
I danced with her once, under the moon, her face made me cry, her love a monsoon, the deepness of her eyes, feeling like madness, bringing out my inner sadness, like caverns to the soul, her eyes were so deep, staring into your face, baby, made me weep.
I loved her for a minute, a second, but then, I was thrown back to the shore, by the wave of defense.
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.
The chase is on, I am running in front, running in front of cars and running in the light of day, I am addicted to being chased by death, I am running right and left, I am playing with the idea of time theft. They are plunging towards me as I get high on the idea of roll the die.
Roll the dice, baby, color by number,
I am running towards the idea of death, I am chasing after the idea of theft of life, I am chasing the idea of dying, I am leaving the idea of trying.
Nihilism, nihilism, nihilism, I love you so,
Oh, nihilism, I will never let you go.
I am the act of rolling under, roll the die, baby, I am the act of die, die, die.
I am chaos incarnate..
Do you chase death?
In the blink of an eye, I make the woman in the passenger seat cry, she is looking at the driver’s seat cry, what are they doing…. I have no idea why?????
I am the act of dog in a human being.
Surrounded on both sides, by the all consumingness of you, I look out into nothing, and see only lack, my soul in perpetual attack, under the spell of don’t look back, and look down and vomit with sound of
ACK. Cough. Cough. I am human eating from chaos’ trough, I eat drugs and don’t come down, I star out into the lurking nothing, reflecting back on pain that I stuff into
The gaping hole, that I have inside my soul, it rips and tears and eats the idea of me whole. I am reality bought and sold, I am bell of death ringing, I am a toll,
Unpaid, unpaid, unpaid.
I am gate to HELL,
You are the idea of HELL
Idea of being UNWELL
OF PAIN THAT IS SWELL
AND SWELLING AROUND MY SOUL
OF DEATH CONSUMED BY UNPAID TOLL
Laid, laid, laid, and
Opening, opening, opening, and staying
Extended into the opening, opening,
Blue, and black nothing, I am the idea of you stuffing stuffing, into the the whole hole of your soul, the teddy bear full of NOTHING.
I balance it, by I am working on it **** it. I am working on something, though I don’t quite know what it is yet, because most of my life I have been a career drug addict and alcoholic, whose job was surviving homelessness and trying to hold onto things like apartments and jobs to not be homeless again, how did I balance that? Poorly, that is why I am clean and sober now, and because I got tired of doing bad things.
I am trying right now to re-vamp my life so I am no longer a social vampire, but instead do something good that benefits mankind. I want to use writing and art to help people understand the people whose lifes are like mine, and help those like me do something fulfilling, what does that mean? I don’t quite know yet, I think sharing my experience on here is part of it though, and letting others know there is hope for them, because if I can do it, they can too.
My hope is that my strength to keep trying will help those like me recover as well, and that maybe they will experience joy, and that I will too.
I am a polaroid.
I am really just annoyed.
No, take that back, I am overjoyed, elated really, because that is how I am supposed to be isn’t it?
I am supposed to have an attitude of gratitude right????!
I prefer honesty right now, and right now I feel like I got screwed by the universe, wrong body, that has emotional issues, hydrocephalus, hormone issues, arthritis, no gallbladder, nerve damage, knee problems, I lost interest in listing these, but believe me it goes on.
My head is always below water, that lives around my brain, slowly drowning me in my own disdain, and driving me slowly, insane.
In sickness, with quickness, I am.
In quickness, with sickness, I stand.
I am bound to a form, I am married to a form, I can’t stand.
Heroine, Heroine, where fore art thou, heroine.
I am retired, because my physical form is on fire.
I am on fire because my fire is from a physical form, I loathe, not just for reasons expected, but because of things undetected as of yet.
Heroin, heroin, how I miss thee Heroin.
In sickness, I miss, contents of top shelf.
In, health, I am still in Hell, even though I am told, oh well, you are well, yeah well I feel like ****.
I just thought that was a funny title, I like plays on words. I have been in a *****y mood because of chronic pain, from arthritis in my hands, it runs in my family and is made worse by me typing like a lunatic, and also the amputations of the tip of my thumb, part of my middle and index finger, that is due to heroin, meth and alcohol abuse.
I also have had probably 20 revisions of a VP shunt because I have hydrocephalus, so I am getting used to my normal pain level while not doing meth, heroin or drinking. I have never been sober/clean in my adult life, so I apologize for my continuous neurosis, complaining.
Explanation: This is a journal style entry full of negativity or negative self-talk that I am trying to write out of my head, read with that in mind, do not read if you cannot handle dark horror dramatized fiction.
This is for you baby, you make me insane, you live in my brain, oh voice of disdain, making fun of voice of complain, you are mean, but succeed in drain, drain, drain, all pain from me, so I guess I can thank ya, right? Yeah, right…
My hands hurt, my head hurt, and my brain hurts, so I have spent the entire day in bed feeling sorry for myself ansd watching television, and just got sick of my relentless whining enough to make jokes about it on the internet, because it makes my own resentment, or the voice of every person I have dated, shut the **** up, if I do it to myself instead.
That is the explanation for the plot of the story that is my life, talking at myself or to myself to stop the screaming of my brain at myself.
That good enough for you, *****???
Hope so, maybe then I will be able to chill the **** out.
Hahaha, it is kind of funny now though, the relentless pile of verbal trash I hurl at my own face…
I am faceless, I am formless, I am forlorn, I am reality scorned, by hating my face, my human forn, I am tearing, wearing, blarring, self-hatred, eating at my own skin, I am resent, everything I am, the skin I am in.
I am screaming chaotic soul tearing of the form I am wearing, and forced to be in. I am loving something higher, but hating me, I am resentment meant specifically at me, I am why won’t she let me be.
You are pathetic, you are weak, you all that….
SHUT THE **** UP. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be the one who feels like you are divorced from your own human form???! Do you really? Do you think I am the lucky one? Do you really? I don’t think you do, because if I was you, I would sound just as pathetic as you do.
Yeah, I know I win.
I am in love, I am in love, with voices that shove me, anyone really, who makes me feel dreary, because I am addicted to pain not with painkillers but with pain, addicted is not the right word, maybe
LOVE would be more appropriate.
I love you baby, so much, so very much.
I go round and round in circles, I am the pain of mind that won’t turn off, I am addicted to the cycle of up and down, can’t get off.
I go round and round in circles, I am the pain of mind that won’t turn off, I am addicted to the cycle of up and down, can’t get off.
Why? And what do you mean?
I mean be mean to me, make me cry, I like to be poked in the eye.
I know, this is weird, I am going to stop embarrassing myself online…
You are the Goddess of the Rivers made of stardust, and light, you are a creature of reflection and of dancing in the night. You come to those who are drowning, and addictied to act of fight, you are creature of pure reflection, and save the infected, sick and addicted to spite.
I meditate on you often, even though I do not quite understand, being a creature of habit, I am sure of one thing only, and that is,
I do not understand you right-ly.
I am not saint-ly.
I am a liar and a theif.
I am a creature of swamps and of things that dwell beneath.
You are a Goddess that is above me, and so I am stuck looking at the skies, but it is hard to not go below, I am a creature with downcast eyes.
She spoke to me kindly, she spoke to me greatly, not with great understanding, but with great power, power with words and power over me, through my inability to understand her, and ability to panic over things beyond my understanding.
Belinda, Belinda, you were so great, so great
That my arrogance deprived us of the ability to relate, such a tragic shame, and I am only to blame.
In the projected future, there is someone I miss right now, and I don’t know how I miss them, but I do. I dream of you, and like I said, I don’t know how.
You are not know to me, not right now.
You are made of star dust, you are in my dreams.
You are protected by time, or so it seems, because I am supposedf to be alone right now, and so are you, and I don’t know why, or maybe I do.
There is something a higher force is teaching me right now, and I imagine it is the same and also seperate for you, and I imagine the next time I am with someone or maybe the thousandth I don’t know, it will be different.
Yes, I don’t know why, other than when people ask me my pronouns, I am always tempted to say…
“You can call me whatever you like.”
Like we used to?
Yeah, exactly like that, except maybe minus the whispering in the ear part.
Well, obviously because I don’t think you are able to get that physically close to people.
Yeah, or on…..
Olivia, Olivia, where are you now?
You were so kind to me, while you lay on the beach, you stopped swimming, and made me realize I could just be me.
Olivia, Olivia, from heaven you came down, and touched my dirty hand, covered in mud, engaged in conflict in act of push and shove. You helped me different, seeing my real face, you helped me realize it was not me I must erase.
You held my hand, and said a silent prayer, demanding nothing and touching my hair, telling me I was not bad, and that people could be mean, I cried while you talked and pretended you didn’t see.
You told me that I could love myself, and make new friends, that all that my other friends said could be put to bed. I thank you Olivia, you helped save my life, you made me realize I need not live in strife.
I am now a different person, partly because of what you said, and now all the dark thoughts are slowly being put to bed.
I am a ghost, and you can see me, I exist in blank space, so wonderous and free, you envy me, but I envy you, you have hands made of matter, and I wish I was you.
You don’t like your form, but at least that you have, I do not have earthly hands, and for that I am sad.
If I was you, sir, I would take great care, because what it is like to have no form, of that I am aware, I wander this hall, where I lay trapped, and chased by other formless spirits, I remain attacked, I am a ghost, took my life, yes I did, I was afraid to live life with my kid. I was once human, but commited suicide, now I wish, I had done anything but die.
I am a warning, a sad tale, I am, I took my life, and now here I stand, I regret doing what I did with my life, now I pace back and forth, a victim of strife, I am a warning, to not do the same, I wish I hadn’t, my life was my claim, I took my life, and exist only as me, I am not a judgement of those like I see. I am only a statement, to you
I am a statement to look twice before you leave, you cannot take it back, when your hands attack your own form, I wish I could, now I am forlorn, so please think twice, and don’t act rash, I killed myself, and now live in the backlash.
I am touched with blare, glare, re-colored from grey despair, I am looking at this from different chair, and it looks not half bad, not half good, because I am looking back.
The act of being with a person forever, looks not half bad too, if I didn’t have to be with someone I hated, if I didn’t have to be in denial of my own reality.
Look at me, look at me, so wonderous and free.
You really should stop doing that.
You sound like an ***hole when you do that.
No I just sound like we are happy to not be with that ******* you were with before.
I colored you like your two loves.
She was a monster, my sweet turtle dove, she was so crazy, and loved black and white, she was a monster, with him she did fight.
I live the still life, I lay around and do drugs all night.
Your boyfriend was so dull, though you were so great, he just layed around, you two couldn’t relate, I don’t know what you saw in him, that’s a lie yes I did, he was your dealer, and you two had a kid.
I wish I could have had you, and so did, so you say, but because you refused to leave him, I had to go away, now you remain in all likelihood, still doing the same thing, not getting out, but instead giving in.
The addicted live in misery, they live in pain, the lurk in the shadows, they stand in the rain, the litter the streets with garbage and pain, they scream in the night, their lives down the drain, they have no hope, they are told they should die, and looking back it just makes me cry.
She was a statue, though she did move around, she was my girlfriend, a woman with no sound, she was a statue, she was very stiff, she was my girlfriend, and had such quick wit.
She hated all people, and would not talk to anyone, and people she hated, saying she hated everyone, she talked only to me, and it was quite a burden, she was very sad, and unwell, called me Tyler Durden, I told her my name, but she thought we lived in a film,
Didn’t know the difference between Fight Club and me and her life, she was very crazy, came at me with a knife, she told me she must kill me, told me I was bad, so I went away, and now she is mad. She still calls me sometimes, and we talk on the phone, but I think due to her state, it is best she is alone.
They spoke to me, I talked to rocks, to stones, to pillars, to rock formations, which are not usually talkers, but this time they were, on that hill, that day with her.
Telling their story, they spoke quite softly, they talked at night, and quite darkly. They spoke of death and of loss they had seen, they spoke in voices, like in a dream. It was quite strange, and out of place, being reality, and not dream space, they spoke to me, and told a story, it was of magic, and not gory, not like the other stories, that I already knew, and so I sat, and knew not what to do.
I dare not wake her, lest make them made, she woke anyway, and I felt bad, why must she miss all I see, she was asleep and in a dream.
I am the rose dancer, I am a be, I am a rose dancer, I aim to be. I am rose dancer I am two bees, I am a rose dancer, I aim to please.
I am an object, I am not. I am resentment, my creator is not, the person writing this story, although their hand types its words. I am realization not to spew hate with words.
I am representation of everything my creator is not, I am self-assertion, realizing there is a god.
I am so very safe, because you are in your place, and I am in mine, paranoia, put in it’s place.
You are in my mind all the time.
I need to meditate on something else, but I do this instead, because I like to make sure I do things all the way, so I am stepping on my self- ass er tion.
I am self-assertion, reality desertion, I am dying because I have to in my owner, this is illustration, to show my owner, that I am bad, even though sometimes my owner is glad to have me… because my owner is insane.
I am. I am. I am.
Look at me, oh so very free, look at me.
You make me happy
You make me sad
You make me angry.
I want you so bad.
I look at you, and I see us, look at you, you make me trust, that I was wrong, the whole **** time, you could be mine, you are so sublime, you are great, and I love you dearly, you are so beautiful, I speak sincerely.
I love you baby, you bring me joy, you are perfect, for you I am
Perpetually in love, you are morning dove.
Oh watermelon mixed drink, I loved you so, why oh why, did you have to go, and be bad for me, and ruin my life, I am so sad, it cuts like knife, in my liver, and makes me sick, but hold you tight still I wish, I could do it, but I can’t, I am an
Alcoholic, with no self-control, everything I touch, just eats my soul, I can be addicted to anything, even digging a hole.
Color me with re-touch, paint it on thick.
I am so happy, I am elated, I am hapiness, I am instated.
You amuse me, baby. You make it all clear, in the continuous light, there is the death of fear.
In the darkness, there is the smallness of men, in the light men can pretend.
I am the act of courage defended.
I am happening, I am walking, I am talking, I am man experiencing joy.
I am selfishness, I am madness, I am a toy.
Darkness, darkness, I am mad, darkness, darkness makes me sad.
Cry for me baby, make me go crazy.
I am the toy of madness.
Madness. Madness. Mad nest
Nesting, nesting, nesting
All the birds
Big and small
The arrogance of man destroys nature to make a land of joyous elation.
The birds are displace, squirrel’s home are erased, and perpetual light is found.
I am children screaming loud.
Click. whir, clack, bang, boom, vroom.
I am a magic act.
Entertain me, please.
I am so entertaining.
I am arrogance.
Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.
The window to Hell, is open.
The window to Hell is closed.
It is a choice, it is not imposed.
She was my ray of light.
She was my darkest choice.
I have closed the window.
This I did with my voice.
Open you window, open it well, let out the sun, and let your pain swell, let it move you, make you complete, let it remove, and take off your feet.
I saw jelly fish in the sky at night, with electric tendrels, they aimed to sting and bite, I was told they were not real, no matter what I feel, I was told do not have the ability to be right.
I was told, I must shut off my light, I am never right, not when reflecting and projecting, or talking to a ray or Rei of light.
I am no longer propelled by the forces of inner hell, and the power of pain swells or waves of force pushing me to consume my own tomb, cut off my own legs, while navigating through the dregs of society, because it became clear to me that, that was what I was doing at all, so now instead of remaining small and un-heroic, while trying to be a heroine…
My sun rays come from the sun now, not from the sound of human voice, that was the best choice I could have made, other than choosing sobriety, which are linked you see, she was my using buddy, and we used waters muddy, with great amounts of speed, and black tar, and though I still am scarred… I am no longer scared, because now she is no longer there to scare me, or make me afraid of Hell, or myself, really.
I am no longer the monster in someone’s nightmares, that is the improvement, and I will leave it at that.
My hands hurt. I am tired, and I really want to get high. So basically, I just really want to get high or drunk, but I don’t because I am an ***hole when I get drunk or high.
Too bad, so sad…
You are being a **** too, at least I admit I am doing it.
You did not admit you are doing it, I told you that you were.
I am you, writing on the internet a conversation you are having in our head.
At least we aren’t doing this on a street corner out loud while high.
Yeah, there’s that…
I am running, I am not sure what I am running from, but I come upon this house, and begin pounding on the door, there are women inside and I start speaking, not even sure what is going to come out of my mouth, just knowing that I am hungry and tired, and can’t walk anymore, because it feels like I have been walking for a really long time.
They invite me to sit down.
I am a house in the middle of nowhere, I am owned by an adult child, and populated with the unfortunates, who travel through the night and day, and come and stay sometimes, and sometimes run away, and never return.
I am not paid for, because I was abandoned a long time ago, and to the eyes of the owner, no one ever comes in and no one ever leaves.
I am covered with lack of care, which is great because on these stairs, no one is there, no one and everyone really, every one and any one who is in need…
I have a tale and a tail about a wailing woman, who thought she lost me, and was having a cow, not a whale.
The convenience of the universe astounds me.
I ran into a woman once, literally into her, I was chasing my dog, and she was chasing her’s.
I really like coffee, that was stressful, and I dropped mine, do you want to accompany me.
I am tired, so yes, some coffee sounds excellent.
This is really good, what were you doing out there chasing your dog?
I mean, are you from around here and were just taking a walk? Or, are you site seeing or something? If you are site seeing… I am from the area, and could tell you some places to check out, or just show you… I mean if you want?
That sounds excellent…
She glowed with radiance she glowed with dark, she glowed with shadow, she glowed with the power of heart, she was so sad, her face was marked with tragedy and abandoned heart, her dog had no name, she knew no call, she followed her owner anyway, girl who was tall, both in stature and in tale, she was a liar, who was prone to fail, addicted to fiction and tall tales,
I am Shelia, that is my name, I am a Shelia, a girl, a dame.
A man of soot told me a lie, and now wolf, do I cry.
I played with fire, and he hurt me bad, stole my dog, now I am sad.
She tried to take my picture, saying something about never having seen a Spanish person before. I tell her that sounds racist, and she says, no it is not…. that she just admires our culture and cuisine. I tell her that sounds even more racist, and she laughs and looks at me long and hard, her eyes are blue, they are beautiful and look like the ocean. Her laugh makes me feel like I am at the top of a roller coaster, and am just beginning to go down, with my feet lifting slowly off the ground.
Sarita, Sarita, Sarita
The funny alcoholic diva
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……
Without you my life is hell, and though I live to tell, I can tell you I am quite unwell, I only talk to myself, and dream of bottles no longer on my shelf, and dirty pinging needles, and rocks that taste like batteries, it is quite sad, being this mad…
I have realized now I am insane, and that it was not my disdain for you that caused me to want to leave you there crying on my arm chair, playing with your pretty dark hair, you are on my brain, my mind, at the tip of my tongue, because I realize that I do not miss being spun as much as I miss fun.
My heart did beat for you once, and became slightly inflamed, fighting narcissism and posion in my veins.
For now I am alone, and maybe someday will bring myself out of myself, and finally use a phone to call someone other than myself.
I have known you a thousand times, but noticed nothing, not a thing about you, because I worhipped something that stripped all the color from my world.
You, and all like you
I told her and all like her, to stay away, far away from me, desiring nothing, other than what fueled me…
Pushing everything and everyone away, far, far away, now I am left alone.
I knew this would happen, and did not care, addicted to the now
Now now now
More more more
I complain, but know I did this to me, I was so joy us and O so free.
I was addicted to
I am alone.
I am right along side of you.
To be or not to be?
Distended and extended
I am a time eater.
Left with nothing now, I look back, because I am stuck in the creation of forward.
You are not the creator of reality.
I know, but I am the shaper of my future, or one of them anyway.
She painted her lips with fruits of red, she got them from the tree of living and dead, she had this idea in her silly pretty head, that she could live forever, if the world would just let her.
She thought that she was able to live on and on and on and on without death, without age, without turn of page
Page me, page me, I am crazy. I am living forever, I am living on and on and on and
I am a being with the power of two, I am two people doing as they do.
I am always one in chains.
Hey, not true anymore.
Is it not so?
It is not so.
Dom, in Latin means master
Free of master, I am a master of disaster, an acid blaster, shooting acid into my own eye, to make myself, own self, I own myself, cry
Cry, baby, why oh why?
Why did I hurt myself so?
Because you are oh, so very bad at saying no.
What are you doing? You sound like a lunatic.
You mean, ‘I know.’
No. I meant, you sound like a lunatic, because you are participating, and I always sound like one, and who cares anyway.
There exists a peice of my heart, on the ground, trampled right in front of a rose plant. It has been there since the winter, wishing to find shelter. It is not dead, but exists in the ground, hiding from those who used to hunt it.
It has grown into the ground, and was once one with it, now it is cradled by the roots of the plants kissed by the sun and is entwined in their plant sheild,
I am plants, I have been dug up, I am unrooted, and now I am stuck, in the form which I have taken, and in form by those who have mistaken, me for posession, though I am alive, or I was, before they contrived, their foolish plan to construct this heart, now I am dead, and must re-start.
the roots wrapped around it, protecting it from the crush of the stones around it, the plants form a nest in which it is entwined, being absent of thorns, and also grow upwards, drawing my heart closer to the surface, and out of the damp dark soil, where it lay, with each day the plants grow, and each day it gets closer to growing out of its grave situation.
I wonder what will happen when it grows out of the ground, will it die? Or will it flower?
I don’t know why, she was dressed up for an elegant outside meal. I was scrounging around looking for spare change, from more fortunate people that happened to pass by. The area I was in was frequented by well off travelers, which is why I chose to walk through there at dinner time, they were more likely to help you after getting all boozed up and sleepy from eating too much, as is customary in America when out to eat on vacation at a much too expensive restaurant.
I would not even noticed their table, she was too attractive for me to notice her completely. I tend to skim past women of a higher class than available to people like me, mostly due to my inability to deal with rejection, which is highly likely with women like her.
She called out to me, offering up the rest of a plate of asparugus, and inviting me to sit down, she was extremely drunk, to her husband’s dismay. He was not very happy to see her sitting with someone when he returned to the table, so she offered to show me to the laundary mat, and we left, leaving him confused and behind.
You stand out in my memory, smoke goddess, of midnight, standing with me in the fog, you and I, fought the day, you shrouded in red, and me shrouded in decay of my mind, unlike you, already gone, already mad, I stood staring out at the river, ranting about nothing, ranting about everything, speaking nothing, speaking everything, talking about the universe, but also saying nothing at all, you were very unique and also every woman I ever met.
That is one of the worst things I have ever heard you say. Every woman is the same?
No, this one was just unreal, and seemed like everyone and no one.
Okay, better, thank you.
It sits upon me, and I know not why, I am hot and pointed to sky, not really pointed, because I am flat, It is a perch in that way and only that.
I am quite hot, and think that I
May be frying bird, sitting on my eye, I am as sharp with light as a
Speedle, glowing with chaotic rejection of night, glowing with light, glowing with glow, I am going in the act of gooooooo slow… to the sky, raising I’s up hiiiiiiiigh. I am so very………high.
I am……very toxic………….. aren’t I?
I loved her so very much, I decided to treat her poorly.
So in love with black and white, you are, you are my shooting star, you are everything to me, I love you so clearly, so dearly, you are everything that I ever wanted, and needed, please stay always my
I loved her so very much, I decided.
To treat her poorly, was not my intention, and of it I make mention to mention why, I treated her
My treat is to retreat.
I am a coward.
She was mean to me.
I am coward, and did not want to see.
You are an addict.
You are a liar.
I hold a lamp shinning on your soul, alight with HELL FIRE.
You glow with green fixation, you are pure agitation, you are pained resistance, you are my existance.
That is a little extreme.
Make me fast
Make me slow
Make me go
25, oh 25, how I love you so
25, oh 25, so fast, and yet so slOoOoOw
25, oh 25, a number oh sweeeeeeeeet
25, oh 25, you take me off my feat.
You are a number in my memory, for many a reason, you are a number in my memory, no matter what season, you are so…
I am done thinking about……
You are such an ***
Isn’t life lovely, isn’t life grand, how wonderful it is, lacking the courage to stand, in the darkness I am, in the dark lack of day, I am always forever, and fated to stay.
I am above you, but so very below, I am the person with whom you should not go. You don’t believe me, you think I am a liar, you think that was my brother, who you wished to set on fire.
Isn’t it nice?
Isn’t it great?
Such a pleasant re-do, now we can relate. I am not the person I was, now I am new, I am girl re-colored for you.
There is no difference, between me and him, no rhyme or reason for your lie wearing thin.
You slowly realize I was telling the truth.
Isn’t it tragic, now I am removed.
You removed yourself, sweetie.
I know I did.
Sometimes, I wake up and I am not me, but someone else, somewhere else, and if nothing else, I am aware, that this means very bad things are happening to me, somewhere else, where I am actually myself. This time, I wake up in a painting. I am not sure why, but I am aware that I am in the painting, which kind of feels like lucid dreaming for normal people, I guess.
It feels like actually being in a canoe, like I am imagining is in the painting which I am hallucinating, or for regular people, lucid dreaming. The only difference is very strange. I am extremely warm. It feels like sunburn.
I am so warm in fact, that I want to jump out of the canoe, which I do, immediately, and feel the water in the painting hit my skin, but also feel the burning sensation go away, as I imagine other water hits my real skin. I am comforted by this fact, that somewhere ele, where I actually am, I am not burning alive, and then I hear it, a commotion, coming from somewhere else, it is a sound I recognize, fire alarm, blarring, somewhere else.
My apartment is on fire.
I am brought back to present time, someone is spraying those of us walking out with a firehose. I am holding a painting of people in a canoe. The strange thing is, it is not the painting from my apartment, there is someone in the waterr next to the canoe, they were not there before.
So becoming, so become, in becoming, we come undone.
I am a wall, I am a cage, I am the idea of nothing new on each page, I am your case, I am your form, I am the idea of forlorn.
In the begining it was decided, that you are you, and you cannot deny it. You get what you get, you give it all away, you are locked in a cage forever to stay.
I survived a deadly fire, glowing eyes rage much higher than flames or smoke could ever reach, on wings I fly not to be beseeched by scalding hot embers that lay beneath, my wings serve me and I reach heights unknown to human being, and due to this my dear it seems, I remain so far away, from flames igniting on that tragic day, when all you loved was reduced to nothing, and in this setting and pain stuffing, burned all that you had within you.
Sear me seer, sear me deep
I am all that lives beneath
I am all you seek to hide
Everytime you ever cried
Sear me seer, sear me deep
I am all that lives beneath
She liked me better than you.
That sounds like you are five years old.
You are perpetually five years old.
I don’t even know how to respond to that, because you are saying it to illicit some sort of response, **** and I don’t want to walk into it, and my other half is not here for some reason.
She is obviously disfunctional in some sort of way, because she begins laying on my floor, after hearing that she has my heart, coming from someone who has known her for two hours, which is not possible for most. For me, in a way, it is. I will forever remember her like this. Her laugh sounds like someone breathed perfume into a blue balloon. She is the birth of day after a storm, she is the eighteenth birthday of a troubled child. I love her truely, deeply, as much as you can love anyone that you just met. Her name will not be mentioned, because she is a real human being, that I dated for 3 days when I was 18.
They were the best three days of my life, she broke up with me, because she realized I had not lied to her, when I told her I was insane, which screamed at me, while throwing everything I gave her in the three days I was with her right at my face. She wanted to see me cry, she didn’t get to. I got drunk instead, I sometimes feel like I had been drunk until this year, wasted away from the memory of her. She has such a unique name, too bad it will never be revealed online…
She looks for my writing online sometimes, she has written to me since then, and I always pretend it is not me, because she really hurt me, if I am being honest…
I am staring at a mirror, and seeing something that most people would argue is not there, and having a conversation, that most people would argue is with no one, but it is someone I know very well, who is not myself.
She tells me she loves me, and asks me to follow her, she is an idiot. I cannot walk through glass, well not in this way anyway, I can walk on it, not through it. I tell her this and she tells me
“If you step on me, you will surely die”.
I am aware of the problems that come with stepping on shattered glass with two feet, thank you for the reminder.
I come closer, and she kisses me, and my mouth starts bleeding, but she tastes good, like lavender and vanilla.
I walk out of the room, and hear a crash, I go back in the room and the mirror is broken.
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.
I am running through the desert, not sure how long I have been running, because it feels like I just woke up upright, which I am used to because it happens when I am upset.
I am unsure of where my dog is, this is in the past, so I actually have this dog, and it is not a figment of my imagination. I had a pitbull when I was dating this other girl, before Rei.
My chest is pounding, as if I have been running for hours, I am unsure of how long I have been runnning.
I hear my dog in the distance, I am sure of it. I run, my chest pounding.
The sky is different now, the blue becoming a pretty pink, and I wonder if it is an indication of a storm, or an indication that I am in fact dreaming.
I hear you, my dog, not my ex, in the distance, you are barking in a way that I understand, it sounds like you are speaking to me… from far away… I can hear you saying that it is not present time… I am in the past…. this is not possible so… I choke on my breath. I am not sure what is going on… I wake up and I feel around for Rei… thinking myself next to her…. then I remember… I am alone.. this is farther into the future… I am alone… just a dream… just a dream… I miss my dog.
I exist beneath you, just like you wanted, residing in the idea of down, I am beneath you, honey. I am just where you wanted me, down here.
I am the idea of down.
I am the idea of on the ground, so low, so so
Solo, that could be said too, but always beneath you.
I am the idea of too much trouble, because I am really.
I am not capable of what she wants, she says I am, I assure I am not.
We are sitting on the beach, she tells me to look at the sunset. I am staring at my shoes, thinking about being underwater. I am not completely aware that she is still actually there, she might be a hallucination. I have not known her that long, and don’t remember how we met, she makes me nervous.
She tells me to look her in the eyes. I don’t like looking at people. I am awful at direct eye contact.
I tell her there was once a study done about hallucination and direct eye contact. She asks if I am hallucinating now. ****
How do I always end up doing this?
I am looking at you, but I am not, I am engaged in negative thought, which is not out of the ordinary.
I see you, but I don’t. I want to, but I won’t. That is the whole problem. I am never able to accept… never is so final..
In my mind, exists a battle, between up and down, sound and silence.
I am imaging someone, because I have no one, because I have failed my whole life to do anything other than serve my own selfish interests.
Food speaks to me, it tells me to eat it, it tells me I will like it so much better than I can even imagine. This is probably because I am
I am probably insane… I am actually insane.
I know this, but I wonder sometimes, if there is something to this, something real, if I am hearing something real, that is real to a small segment of people, but experienced collectively, in that it is the same experience shared by a very small segment of the population, so would that not make it real?
We are the soothsayers, we are the sayers of things that soothe, not because of wanting, just something that we have to do. In the dark moments of those who are rejected, dejected and despised, when we are dark reflecting on all that made us cry, we do this, because we are made to, and it is natural, just how we survive, so we can do it for others, and they can see it in our eyes.
Maybe it is this they are afraid of, and the reason they quest to destroy, any peace that we discover, we are their new revenge toy. I am no longer bound to madness, have found new legs to stand, they are borrowed…… TBC.
He tells me that he can change his shape, and I think of my friend, who I think I have thought about on this blog before. My friend who believes that something happens and he blanks out and becomes someone else. This reminds me of that. He tells me that he does it through mental focus and meditation on something else, not the person or animal which he is becoming. He also tells me he has no power over what he becomes.
This is slightly terrifying, and suggests that there is another party to this process, or that my new friend, has somehow tapped into the consciousness accessable to beings who meditate, which is strange, because he speaks of this as a sort of body snatching, which is precipitated by a moment of panic, the lack of calm. I don’t know what to think about it, when he is telling me this. To be continued.
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.
Baby please, get off your feet, and meet me on the ground.
Come back down, and hear the resounding sound of quiet.
You are daylight’s riot.
I wish only for quiet.
You are my fire fly. You are sunlight’s spy, a flashlight in the comfort of night sky. Hanging lights up so you can see, every bit of nature’s landscape clear to you, the lover of blue sky and morning dew.
Nothing of night pleasant or in view, you seek to chase away the dark vacantness, that is my permanent vacation nest. In everything you strive to erase or chase away, is every place I desire to stay.
I am nothing.
I am nothing.
I must be something, but I am nothing.
I am the abandonment of happiness, in exchange for soul, solely eaten by darkness, I am infestation of human soul, solely consumed by dark quest.
In the dark night, a knight on a chess board eats my chest. In the darkness, a night eats my chess piece, I am the infestation of a mind lost.
I am the cost of being in a unhealthy relationship.
I relate to nothing.
I am nothing.
I loved her so much
I loved her so much
I loved her so little, because I am not capable of love.
I am the act of push, then shove.
I miss you, greatly. I was consumed by you.
Please, please, please, let this feeling go away.
Standing at the ocean, a human being looks out into the all consuming darkness….
I remember standing there with you, but alone, I am not a human being, but one who walks with herd, and cannot answer telephone. I remember walking with herd of sheep, and one unknown. I am not an answerer of call, but a mouth that is sewn, tragically shut, by needle.
I was once a maker of dark colored quilt, sown onto pained skin. I am looking back now, at scarred skin, not speaking of new pain, just of that used to live within, it is no longer, but there is nothing new dwelling in the skin I am wearing.
That is not true.
I know that is not true, but go with me, here.
I am not sure where I am going with this actually, thank you for interrupting me.
I love you baby, you make me complete, you so fare, you are so wonderful, and you are so neat. You are so wonder filled, so lovely, with your grace, I am replete. I would build you an altar, but my love is strewn across the street.
I am so sorry, for how it must end, you were such a wonderous, lovely, trend, for my life to take…. so dreadfully sorry, I made such a tragic and unfashionable mistake.
You were so right, my angel, about me, and my life, me, such a dark creature, addicted to night.
I am so sorry, baby, I loved you so much. I am so sorry, that I lost all your trust. I couldn’t do what you asked me, I see through blind eyes, so sorry sweetie, I am a creature of despise.
So lovely, so sweet, you make me so happy, make my life complete. I love you dearly, so completely, would love to kiss your feet.
She was an angel, glowing with light. She was my sweetheart. In her, I did delight. I loved every moment, every dark starlit night. I was so spellbound, caught by her
Biting caustic poison. I hated her face, was always drawn to debase all the she was, my sweet Alice, how much malice, how wonderful you are.
You are such a wonderful human being.
You make everything a dream.
Nothing with you was ever what it seemed
To be. You are no longer with me, and I wish you the best, and I will forever remember you fondly, my empress, of distress.
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.
I know, right.
Not a question?
Clearly, can’t you see?
To a morning run, such fun it is in the sun. 😉
I love to excercise my eyes, I love to excercise my I. I like to practice the act of hate, of heated despise. I am addicted to writing poems about hate, if you can’t relate, so sorry.
You are so beautiful, you made me complete, you are so beautiful, so lovely, so neat.
You were my baby, we were never apart. I loved you so fully with all that I had, I wanted to give you everything, wanted nothing to be sad.
You are my lady, my love, oh sweet.
So sorry, it did not work out, I am on the other side of the street.
The grass is greener.
The grass is greener.
The grass is greener.
Too bad. So sad. So, sorry.
Love you, forever, sweetie. I am so sad that it didn’t work out. Best wishes, See Clearly.
Pole or I’d
What you thought
What you did
What you thought
What I did
He is a liar
I am away
Forever and ever forgotten forgetter
I hate you Just in time
I am no longer addicted to dimes
I am a lie, I am the truth, I found a way, I am so ruthless, you are a liar, you tried to remove me.
You are still once in awhile trying to contact me.
I win. I won. I win.
I am vengence, I am rage. I was in a cage, now I am always on a path away from you.
She was my lover, she was my girl, she was my everything, spinning round and round, and turning upside down, down side up, upside side down, round and over, and upside all around.
You meant nothing, you meant nothing, you meant nothing, you are nothing to me, leave me alone, leave me alone.
I am happy now, this is all in the past.
Addict in blank space
I loved her with everything I had. Baby, oh baby, why did you not give me anything, when I gave you
You were big and I was small. you were big and I was small.
She loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not
I am the lie I am the lie I am the lie I am the lie I the lie I am the Eye am I Eye am I I am I
She meant nothing to me, lie
She meant everything to me, and I meant heroin to her.
I counted the amount of days in my life since I was 13. That is all.
I am oh so rich, with vice added to a face that asked for nothing but sigh, you gave me nothing but advice.
Isn’t it great? Isn’t it neat?
Aren’t we so very completely in love?
Tell me how much, I need you baby, tell me how much I want you, and I will repeat it so, so, sweetly.
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 speak to you private, I speak to you in confidence, I speak to you in honest response which is unnatural for me, and you respond so naturally, and I did not realize it then, but realize it now, and am possessed with desire to in water drown, at the time, this was not possible, baby, oh baby, being where I was, and ever so crazy. I loved you darling, don’t care what they say, I wanted nothing, but with you to forever stay, but I was stupid and drowning in devotion, so I devoted my time, to one who tried to take me
DOWN DOWN DOWN
I am now living under
Well in a basement, really, or a bedroom, but I spend a lot of time, here, thinking of you, and wish I was with you drinking a beer.
I am the bad guy, and you just wrote a love poem to heroin.
Is that what you really think?
You realize you are insane?
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.
I am begging you to please, bring me to my knees.
Standing is so tiring, I am so sick of bitter firing, it makes me very sick, consumed by my own tomb, even though I have not done it for many a moon, I am transfixed with the past, with drugs that didn’t last, they keep my eyes on sky, under which I did not die.
In my heart and sole, I am dead, because I threw those shoes out a long time ago.
I miss you, so much, so much, so much, my heart is full of rust, and dust, oh angel of must, trust, anything else, anything else, enough to stop, writing love poems to heroin, meth, and alcohol.
I am staring at an image, but staring at you.
I am writing to you, but also writing to that, because I never love anyone else first, not even my cat. I worship a goddess, who is made by spoon fire, who is fed with cotton, and sown with desire, I worship you, baby, but really do not, my love for something else is always too hot, it is lit by a candle, a lighter, a match, it is burned till its ready, hope death don’t I catch, I speak of the past here, because I no longer have, enough veins left to do heroin.
I hate myself, I am an anthem to a bottle and a needle and spoon on dusty shelf, I am all that everyone should never aspire to be,
To see clearly, is not in my power to do, I am forever blinded, by the beauty of you.
So, I think I remembered why I hate myself.
Oh, did you really? Do you see it clearly now??? Oh, master of the art of never coming down, off the pedestal you placed yourself on????
You realize you live in her soul too, how does that reflect on you, voice that shouts about everything I do, you are part of them too yes, but why do you act like an infestation, a manifestation of everything they are not.
I don’t know maybe it is because I have been shoved and pushed around, any time the two of you needed something so useful during the act of coming down.
Well, where were you after that, after your so selfish caring act? Where do you go when you aren’t being, like you describe, if your pain is not contrived, let me see through your eyes, which are theirs, not your’s, by the way, at least I borrow, not try to take away.
I never did that and you know it.
Yes, you did, you just don’t show it.
I hurt my own feelings too, by the way.
I like the vomitting one, because I used to use it all the time when someone would ask how I felt when I was hung over and they knew I was hung over or didn’t have what I needed to get up and they had the audacity to ask me anyway.
Or, they were concerned and asked you out of concern.
Forcing me to admit weakness in the morning is obnoxious.
Having a human body that is subject to being sick is not a weakness, fearing to admit that you are human is.
Says the person talking to their split personality on the internet.
I am looking at you, but seeing only me, because I am bitterness reflected, back from eyes that are stained with tearing at myself, bitterness encased in toxic casing which is the current shell I am placed in.
I hate myself, but hated you, because you in some way reflected me too, but that is my problem, even now, I am trying to realize this, and come down, from the pedestal I placed myself on, where I sit alone, and rambling on, about how nothing was my fault.
Is that really how it was, selfish ***hole? No, it wasn’t.
I was addicted to heroine
I was addicted heroin.
I was addicted to heroine
I was addicted heroin
I forever, always and forever, and always and forever will be addicted to heroin
Are you talking to me?
Not you, but it yes…
Why? You want?
We are not doing that ever again
If you do I am coming to
That was not an error Amanda, remember what happened sometimes, the act of coming to
I don’t want that because it will make my… our family sad
I am cemented in the memory of my author, I am cemented in the creator of this image, I am cemented by the creator of this image.
In cement it lay, and forever will it stay.
I am covered over, an image protected and rejected by protection, destroyed by idolization, a picture of objectification, a picture of self-love.
Are you sure that is not just what you are seeing because you project yourself on your interpretation of it?
I am correct.
I am an attack on human soul, by protection of image which in fact eats everything whole, creating the potential for the whole image to become a hole.
Manilla, Manilla, in Vanilla, Vanilla, now just a stain on my brain, you make me insane.
I don’t think the image…
I know, just rambling because I like to hear myself talk.
You are typing.
I am also whispering this to myself, because I am insane.
I love you person I don’t know, because you are beautiful and glow, with colors of say it isn’t… anyone I met, so you are not dead to me yet, because you simply don’t exist, you are idea of bliss or chaotic death either one because I know I ****, and am horrible at everything so I ruin anything I have and would ruin things with you too, and that no longer makes me sad, because I am
Insane, and engaged in a worship of myself, or with items on my shelf, that I threw out for now because I… actually they got stolen… and it was
Really ****y, but you are really pretty, for a second you make me think of something else,
Heroine, oh Heroin, I love you so,
Heroine, oh Heroin, I wish I could forget you,
And not be writing love poems to a woman who is really a metaphor for how I am a pathetic loser.
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.
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.
Glitter made me pretty, made me green. Glitter painted life so nice and sparkly and made everything a technicolor, beautific painted dream. Glitter made everything sparkle made me love your eyes, painted your face so pretty, painted mine with despise.
I am a horse of a different color.
I am a horse of a different color
I am a horse of a different color
Yellow brick roads painted with blackness of night, make little children run in fright. On roads I walked in shades of black and white, from those roads all people should fight the night and stay away from shades of grey or graying shades coming in shades at all, that make men think they are big or small.
On those roads, which I once did walk, my friends outlines lay on ground in chalk, and nightcrawlers are said to talk about addictions that took them away from families who live far away from the streets of brick that lay littered with madness, stolen from families lurking in sadness.
What does that even mean?
I liked how it sounded, rappers do it, why can’t it be done with horror, and actually all letters you write me are severe, because they are severly disturbing to average people.
That is actually very true.
I know that is why I thought of it.
Not everything you think is true.
Name one thing.
I am not a drug addict, I just like heroin and can do it responsibly this time, if I just don’t drink. This is actually something you were thinking today. How do I know, because I was thinking it to.
I am a box that never should have been opened.
I am trying it one time, and never again.
I will never do it two days in a row.
I can just drink one.
I can just have three.
I will start at five.
I will start at 12.
Severly, means harshly, and I think that a lot of us talking to each other, can be considered harsh, which is why I like you.
You like me because you have to, because I am you, or half you, and you are in love with your whole self which is half me.
Mouth full, mouth full, choking on noise, I like hate read through play play play with…
I am going to punch you in the face.
The sweet embrace of erase, is the solution to all missing space, and all that matters not, I like fear when it runs through paths that are wrought with fear and choas ascending, I like deer with feet that are trending towards running into cars,
Cars. cars. cars.
What is mine, is really ours.
I am not.
You seem better, face so…
If you say it I will poke you in the eye.
That sounds fun, so will I.
Sounds like blindness, oh see clearly.
I hate you so very much.
I loooooovveee… you, but mostly us. us. us.
I am the fear of stay. I am the thought of lack of… pay.
I have to pay you to stay in your own brain? I like it.
Does it ever feel like you are forgetting which one is talking?
That is because I am winning.
I am self-hatred, read so so clearly.
I am talking, but really not, I am hate read in pain so hot.
I am a condescending self-defending ***hole, who just got tired of this, you lose, to bad, so sad, I am mad, glad, bad,
Going away now…
Is that supposed to be me? Loser.. it doesn’t look like me or anyone we know..
I painted you in a way you hate.
This isn’t even painted, it is a digital image re-touch thing.
Don’t you hate stupidity??
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 know this, that is why I said it.
We are doing the same thing we used to do at the bar, but this time we are alone, without other people doing it too, and without alcohol or drugs… how does it feel?
Like I am cutting myself off at the knees, but I kind of like it?
Good… me too.
I wonder if this will ever get better…
I don’t think it can get worse than this, so I think we will either die, or it will get better… or it will stay just this bad forever and ever…
How bad is this?
I don’t know, it has always been this… so how bad is it really?
I am still alive? I guess that means it is okay enough…
I think I would be happier like this, completely alone, talking to myself as my partner.
Hey, isn’t that what we are doing now, and doesn’t it ****?
Than what the **** are you talking about???
That I am insane, and don’t know what else to say, and I am trying to make someone laugh, even if it is just you?
So you are talking to yourself on a blank screen, trying to type things that make you feel good about yourself?
Yeah, isn’t that what the book of faces is???
I don’t think anyone on that thing is looking in a mirror talking to their own face as if it is another person?
They aren’t? That is what it looks like to me.
That is because we are insane, and it is not what they are doing, because they are not insane.
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 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!
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.
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.
I am watching you
And it makes me so very sad, to see you standing in a place so bad… painted as it is with death of day, a place I am sure from which you should stay far away, given such a pretty face, so tragic it would be for it to be stuck in this space, the place where we have come to haunt, to murmur curses and sadly taunt, the beings that come from above ground land, where I am sure your sweet form must be from and stand on the lands that are populated by better folk, not us my dear, who down here sulk.
There is still time, you can still turn around, you don’t have to be a lurker on this tragic ground, you need not listen to my partner’s voice, just run away, you have a choice.
She’s got cash, you fool, let’s help her out, she might help us, if we don’t make her go without, so shut your mouth, don’t make her run, come on, dumb ****, let’s have some fun.
Now I am sorry baby, but to get out of here, you are going to need a guide and she is right here, my friend, my friend, she is great, a true sweetheart, with such a pretty face, I’ll be right back, and you will laugh, she looks like me, she is my other half, she will make sure you will be fine and away you’ll go. I am someone you would rather not know, I am sure you will be just fine, look here don’t cry, sweet one, take a beer, go away, baby I am not good with your kind, I am resigned to live in life of decline, so no I don’t have what you thought you need………..
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
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.
Please baby, don’t go away, I need you so much, you are so sweet, your love is so special, you make me complete. You are my sunshine, my sweet turtle dove, you make me feel everything I thought meant true love. I love everything about you, without you I’ll die, I am ever so sorry I had to lie. You wouldn’t understand, could not tell truth, I need your money, couldn’t tell you.
I needed your money, and feared you would cry, so I told you a little tiny white lie, but don’t worry sweetie, it is okay, I promise I’ll stop, now don’t go away. I promise to always do what you say, now stop your crying and please let me
Tell her everything you need her to hear, she is your source of happiness, now ***hole be sincerce.
I am addiction
I aim for the heart
I take everything you love
I am the act of push and shove
My turtle dove, my turtle dove, you are gone, because I only loved myself and that bottle and needle and spoon on my upper right shelf.
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
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
Of your shoe because your real soul belongs only to you, please
To See Clearly, In deed, I Cation by Ms. Re
I am a strange change in the wind, as you begin to realize everything you have ever realized is
He tells me birds are not real
He tells me that someone he knows has told him that they heard me say birds are not real.
He tells a story about how my friend told him I said birds are not real after participating in a joking conversation about birds not being real, but instead robots in the sky. He thinks this is funny and laughs with me and my friend.
My friend thinks I am funny, she thinks my take on her hippy stoner questions are funny, she realizes I am trying to make her laugh.
Elizabeth thinks you are insane.
She does? I do not recall Elizabeth ever saying this, and if she did say this why didn’t she say this to me?
They call me spare change, I am the act of re-order everything you know.
Which is great for me, because the building I was living in at the time was not dark, but was abandoned, which I told her…
she said it was edgy, whatever the **** that means, apparently being a junkie is edgy? I don’t think she knows what edgy means. I don’t really have much of a choice of whether or not she is coming with me because she kind of just started following me to my edgy ****hole of an, “I sleep here till I am told to vacate…”.
I am the glamour of the unknown.
I am so free, you do not even know.
I spend every day and every night in a continuous race to erase my whole **** life.
I am talking to her, and I realize she is not even listening to me…..
The oddest thing about the whole thing, was that eventually at some point during the whole thing she just walked away, I tried to ask her where she was going, and she just kept walking, saying nothing, just left…. to this day, I wonder what she wanted, and there is a part of me that still thinks she was a ghost.
I moved my spot the next day, I wonder sometimes if she was a sad junkie that lived in that building who thought it was edgy at first and then died there… or if she was just my brain telling me to stop doing drugs through hallucinations.
I used to work at a sandwich shop, and this story is a story about two encounters that I had at this shop on the same night one positive, one negative, the positive was the last one, and it is the one that stuck out the most because it appeared to happen to negate the first one, almost as if it was because the universe knew the first one happened, which is what I think… because I believe that there was something higher than a human being protecting me from the first encounter.
I was the night clerk at a place that made sandwhiches, like I said in the paragraph prior to this, one I am restating this as a way to remember this…
I worked there from 2 in the afternoon until one in the morning most of the time, this day I was only scheduled to be there till ten, until a bunch of strange things all happened on the same day which all lead to the postive experience in the question.
1. We had a man run into the store who had been beaten up by some random guy in a truck that had been following him because the person in the truck hated gay people, the person knew me, knew my situation and knew that the place I worked would allow him to stay there until he could safely get a ride from his mother home, which we did, and he was able to safely get home. All proper procedures were followed and the man was able to be seen off by the authorities into the hands of his crying mother.
2. A man came into the store an hour before I was about to close, and demanded that we make 100 sandwiches, which we did, without asking if he had the money to pay for them, because he looked like he did… He was well dressed, and looked like he was not the kind off person who would do what he did…
He leaned over the counter, and looked me straight in the eye, and told me I was going to sell him all the sandwiches for a dollar. I said I could not do that, and looked to see if the gas station guy had left yet for the night, because the guy smelled like booze, which could have been reason enough to throw him out.
He then proceeded to ask me a very strange line of questions.
He demanded to know whether I believed in the Christian god, being very clear with me that it was the Christian god he spoke of.
I told him I am Catholic.
He asked me, what my god had done for me recently…
I shrugged, trying to get out of the conversation…
He then asked me if my god could replace the money missing if he took the sandwiches, I said I didn’t think so… He told me he thought it would be like Jesus and the fish thing.. I stopped speaking… at this point he tells me, he is of the belief that most people have chosen the wrong side, and that his god, the Christian devil is preferable.
I stop talking, thinking the man is probably intoxicated and in some kind of stupor.
He eventually leaves, and I close.
2. I get home and at this point am done with the whole thing, and am greeted by my ex, the one who I have not spoke about much on here, who tells me that I have a strange visitor.
A man hugs me, and tells me he saw the whole thing at my job, and that he applauds the way I handled it. He tells me that he knows I did the right thing and says he has seen the man reward people for breaking the rules of their establishments if they give him the items for one dollar.
He tells me that he followed me home to make sure I was alright, in his car which is nowhere to be seen. He laughs, says he is glad I am alright, gives me a hug and wishes me well, and I go upstairs, from my window I can see the man driving away, even though I could have sworn that there were no cars around.