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.

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Kiss me, baby.

Kiss me with sun, kiss me with act of spinning, spinning, un-spun, re-wrung.

Who were you then?

Who are you now?

I am swirling chaos, I am up and down.

Timeless, Time Less, Less Time, Time Less

Do you see time?

Does it see you?

It is present in all things you do.

I am a negative, I am an item.

I am time, the world re-arranged.

I am strange.

I am earth shattering negative of a world that glows in the dark, the beauty of night in light that is stark. The call of night bird, or hooting of owl, the howl of a coyote, or looking far south, I am looking away from star, and light of the moon, I am the coming of deep and troubling monsoon. I am the coming of winter, felt always and never.

I am the act of swimming while remembering December. I am the act of continuing in time that moves on, I am a song, I am droning on and on.

What does “having it all” mean to you? Is it attainable?

To have it all, to begin to know peace, not something I ever thought to be possible for me, to be at peace, to have it all, never thought I would be that tall.

To live by the sea, to see blue green, that is all I truly need, and by

Need, I mean, merely want, I am happy with anything really, I am just an I and an eye that experiences time, nothing more, nothing less, an observer of time, nothing divine, nothing more nor nothing less, just an addict with the ability to focus and re-address.

I am just a silly human being, beyond nothing, just what I seem. I do not want more than I need, to have it all is too much for me, I simply want to be happy, not to have more than I need.

In them I see you, inherent in everything they do, being so seperate from me, so much closer to divinity, so much higher than I could ever be, please bring me closer to you, I have been silent, because I began to use my hands to serve myself, selfish and self-seeking, please take them back, to serve you.

I am looking at the light, and seeing a picture painted before me, with I highlight, painted places I see you in it, I see you, not them, but you in starlight, thank you for reminding me who you are, being, that paints the night sky with luminance, thank you for being there, for those with downcast eyes.

Who would you like to talk to soon?

My mother is the most supportive person in my life, she is the one of the ways I even figured out I was transgender to begin with, she knew before I did, and when I was very depressed after quitting drugs and alcohol, she talked to me about the whole thing and helped by listening to me talk about how I felt. She didn’t suggest anything, just listened, actively and asked me questions, and I figured out the reason I was drinking and using had a lot to do with trauma from having hydrocephalus and various traumatic things like my house burning down, etc. and the fact that I was not accepting who I was.

I literally said out loud to her,

how I am going to be with men if I can’t forget who I am, and pretend to be a girl?

She helped me realize that one of the reasons I used, one, not the only one, was that I was denying who I was.

The woman referred to in the archives of this site as Diane, is my mother, who is with her husband for the weekend at the ocean. She is my best friend, the only one who stuck with me through my insanity and drug and alcohol chaos. I hope to talk to her soon, because the morning is awkward without her. We usually hang out in the morning and make eachother laugh. I thought of a couple jokes that only she will get.

And now this.

I am a bird with a song, and I sing for you, I am up all day long, doing what birds do, I sing not for you, but for them, but it makes no difference, if you listen all day long, I sing with relentlessness.

I am a word used in a weird way.

What personal belongings do you hold most dear?

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 am green with envy, honey.

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.

Hello, baby

She came at sunrise, she came with light’s dance, she came at sunrise, and stole my friends pants, they were laid out, on her bed, we did not know, she came at sunrise, in her house we did not know,

It belonged to her. She was kind and forgiving, forgave our unexpected visit, when she came we thought,

“Well, this is it,”

She told us it was okay, that we broke into her house, when all I was thinking, was

Well, this sure went south…

She made us breakfast, and touched my face, it was covered with dust and dirt, which a bath could erase.

She was on a vacation, an act I don’t know, she gave us shelter, from the rain and the cold.

I scream in color, I scream in death and decay, I scream in colors that paint you took me away. Where your house is, is where I used to live, where bricks are laid is where my branches were, where the bricks lay, is where I was ripped away.

My reality is broken, it cannot be given back, my branches scream with panic attack, I cry in the attack of taken away, my branches screech for me, I bellow for them too, I am dying and it is because of you.

In the night you came searching, you came with a knife, with your friends you came cutting, you came for my life.

You cut me from a bush, you cut me clear off, not my leaves are dying, soon they will fall off.

Snake eyes, baby

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.

Burn me

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.

The bridge over Hell, is frequented by many who live to tell, they come often, and stare down, and do not smile, and do not frown, the simply stare at the ground, and make sure always to keep eyes to ground, never looking up nor to the side, but deep inside their own souls, because inside burn holes, which hurt and ache, and are the reason they stare down, and do not smile, and not frown, but only meditate on death, and think about the lives they left, and it is Hell that preformed the theft.

I am frequented by all those lost, who ignore the idea of cost, for the sensation of toss, of hurling, and of whirling down, and love the sensation of pound and down.

I am sought by those who pretend and defend the act of loss of soul and act of bend and defend.

Look not at me, but at yourself, I am just defense of myself.

I am unnoticed

Hot air balloon that flies over HELL, below are those who do not even notice, beyond anything that spells their pain and suffering, they cannot see, they are slaves to their sweet misery, they live in resentment, and cannot look up, this is the state in which they are stuck.

In the muck and the mire, they worship fire, which belongs so sweetly, to their own pain, their lack of restraint, so when something flies over, that can save them from themselves, they are not watchful, looking only

AHEAD AND

DOWN

DOWN

DOWN

SYMMETRICAL

My soul burns for you baby, you make me so ****ing happy.

I love you, any of you, anyone at all

She was so sweet, she painted the shadows, she gave light to darkness, painting color into worlds of starkness. In all lack she painted color, touching hearts of trouble with waves of beauty.

She gave this to me

A flower from you, that you gave me to with love.

I gave it back, in reaction, in shove.

You were a bird, a sweet turtle dove, whom I could not accept, my heart from below not above.

A flower from gardens of heaven, was returned because I could not bring in it to the beds of those led into HELL, the place where I at the time I am meditating on did dwell, baby.

Yes, it was.

It was pure HELL, and

Flowers don’t live there, now I am leaving to, and in leaving, I am drawn to thinking of you.

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

Who are you?

How do you find peace?

What brings to the land of beneath?

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

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

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.

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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.

Message in a bottle

Damien,

I am reading something that made me think of you, and how you talk to yourself, and how we talk to each other, even though it is mostly joking, you are always being mean to yourself, and saying things before other people get a chance to say them. The things you say about yourself even if they are sarcastic are usually mean, please stop doing it.

Amanda

---

Amanda,

It is force of habit, and the voice of the other person that lives in our head.

Damien

---

Damien,

I know it’s force of habit, but please try to stop doing it. I am going to try to stop doing it to. I like you, and you like me, leave it at that for now.

Amanda

---

Amanda,

I think we should try writing positive things to each other, maybe I can do it that way. It is hard for me to say anything positive about me.

Damien

The Ghost Piano, the missing fingers, the missing hands

Her sky was painted with glowing radiance.

There once was a girl, who loved beautiful flowers, she would stare at them for hours and hours, she would wish she could be like them, fragrant, and joyous, like her name suggested. She always felt that her name was a lie, sometimes so much that it made her very sad, or even cry. She wished to a rose, or a being with anything but toes, a sea lion, a fish, not her, so sad and craving anything, but this, she wished for the bliss of the sun, her life had never been very fun, but she felt obliged to stay, not to take away the happiness of those around her.

She prayed every day, for something to give her a little bit of contentment, or even content to her life, that felt so riddled with questions and with strife. One day a voice, way up high, almost seeming to come from the sky, directed her brown eyes, to the flowers she loved so much, and she decided to begin to alter them in photographs from other people, that inspired her so, she altered the flowers, putting more light in them, thinking herself a painter with the paint brush of the stars, she put the love of a higher power in the things that made her smile.

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.

Add vice, advice, add vice, ad vice

I am the creation of vice, through not taking advice, but instead adding vice, resentment

Or reason meant for getting betterment

better meant, betterment, a seperation, the constant situation, of my brain, oil and vinegar, bitterness, seperated naturally, by a brain that is good at alone, but awful at being party to togetherness.

Her skin smells like cinnamon, her breathe smells like rain, her words spoke with kindness, though not about me,

Wash away all my disdain, her smile is a renewal of a world colored by lack, when she looks in my direction, I feel my soul recieve a smack.

I am not a good person, I feel I deserve nothing but pain, your soul has the aura of a light summer rain.

Confusion

You make me feel something, I have not felt before, I deeply want you, but not the I want a ****. I want to treat you kindly, never felt this before. I did not think I was capable, my soul being so sore.

I don’t know what to do with this, I know it is unreal, I just am begining to learn how to feel.

Made of Stardust and Light

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.

I am

How can you grow if you are on top of each other?

I am sitting here and feeling empty, lonely and alone. It is mostly due to time of day, and the fact that I moved locations to a place far from anyone I knew, and very specifically the only you I ever write to, over and over and over and over.

---

In the desert there exist dead trees, that stand next to each other, and I think of us sometimes, how we sucked the life out of each other.

I wonder sometimes, are the trees dead in this image because they were too close to each other, and in that codependency suffocated each other?

Or starved each other for space?

Or deprived access to oxygen and nutrients, due to being too close?

Look at me, look at me, exercizing self-control, silly addict able to keep myself from plunging into dark vacant hole. I have done pretty good at keeping things out of my mouth or my veins, but really done nothing, other than simply abstain, and really done nothing except sit in a chair, and listen to people who have been here and there.

It is getting easier, I really must tell you, I am learning to love

I am a mix tape, I play over and over, and roll over

Everything else, so very much, that was obnoxious I hate everything I say, and wish I had someone else, so badly, but not, need to maintain distance, because love makes me rot, my brain, my brain, I am still insane, and so very vain, and obsessed with myself, I need to stop this, I am getting on my last

NERVE

NERVE

NERVE

Switch Off.

End Transmission.

My life is a mess,

I am now cleaning up.

My walls are wreck, I am scrubbing the walls, with the soap of recovery, maybe the stains will come off.

It will take awhile, but I trust it will work, with the power of realizing I have been such a jerk.

I trust something higher, than I could ever be, with that power I run forward, trusting it makes me free.

I see with blind eyes, I was a liar, I was a thief, I speak of madness, with eyes that were beseeched, consumed by addiction, plagued by lack, they saw nothing but soul under attack, they did nothing, but pace through blank space, slave to addiction, aiming to erase.

They were the eyes of a blind man, a person addicted, they saw nothing at all, they were plagued by a calling, and ever present, siren song.

I am ironic, my existence was pained, drawn to a calling to dive down the drain.

Now I am different, in way less pain, I am getting there by resolving the still present conflicts in my addict brain.

I am 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.

I am the schism, of soul from body.

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.

I forgot my lines.

I am made of stone, I drink fishes, I am made of stone, I blow kisses.

Nothing can touch me, not easy to break, I am a woman, I aim with grace.

Speak to me clearly, tell me a story, tell me of darkness, make it real gorey, tell of things that you have no seen, make it about darkness, make it a bad dream, make it fictitious, make it pure fiction, speak it clearly, with very clear diction.

Dance with me baby, you make me so crazy.

Does it speak to you, what does it say?

Does it speak truth or talk of going the wrong way?

Does it flow through you, or is it on top? Is it forcing your tempature to drop?

Is it cold and biting?

Is it warm and inviting?

Is it surging with force?

In the flow of the river, lays death….

Let me flow over, let me through, let me change your tempature, pour over all you do, let me be on you, give me your body, let me change your tempature, lend me your body.

I am inviting, I am over you.

I love you in green and black

What’s one small improvement you can make in your life?

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…

Gold *****

I am the functional drug addict, I am myth, a lie, something to shield your eye from the fact that you are a drain on your own life, an addiction not just to drugs, but to strain, to the addiction of

MUST

MAINTAIN MAINTAIN MAINTAIN

Hampster wheel of run away

AWAY AWAY A WAY

To seperate self from flames burned on spoons on the street, candles lit for people still sick and suffering, who are dead before you have a chance to meet them….

I am gold, I am pretty, I am neat, I am clean.

Whatever do you mean, that is mean… I am doing just fine, I am golden, baby. I am maintaining mine, you may need help but I do not… I am okay with burning spoons, and keeping all my bowls hot as fire

Fire fire fire

Burn yourself, I am okay with hiding bottles on the shelf.

I am okay okay okay

Please go away.

I did and she stayed there, sitting probably in the same chair, forever and ever, in the life of fog get her.

Fog Get Her

Forget her.

She tells me I am an alcoholic, drug addict, and spits on me, when I ask her for some change, I tell her that’s strange, because she is high on the same drug, and she look in the ****ing mirror if she wants to insult anyone. I pretend it doesn’t bother me, but it does, enough that I am writing about it right now, and still thinking about it months later.

I was doing speed with this girl a week before asking for the change, and asked her for the change because I thought she would sympathize being a drug addict her self.

I 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

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

Paint me like you saw me, a black and white rendering of a heart posessed by darkness and moral decay.

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.

Color me perfect, I am so great, I am so happy, can you relate?

She painted her lips with fruits of red, she got them from the tree of living and dead, she had this idea in her silly pretty head, that she could live forever, if the world would just let her.

She thought that she was able to live on and on and on and on without death, without age, without turn of page

Page me, page me, I am crazy. I am living forever, I am living on and on and on and

Look at me, my lips are pink, you as can be.

I am a rose.

I am so great.

I am so perfect, so lovely, so free.

I cost money, and am a slave of thee.

Look, but don’t touch

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 have been forgetting to do this, but caught myself thinking about drugs a lot, so here. There are no meetings on Saturday near me, so I talk about drugs on the weekends.

I think it is cool if nothing else that I am almost at six months, well sort of….

Peace

My spray painted goddess

You are standing in front of a wall you painted dark green, like the ocean, or the idea of being mean, you didn’t like that, thinking it ruined it.

Ruin radiates from your eyes, no your ruin, but rather, mine, something I jealously guard, tortured guard, of Hell’s sword.

You stare blankly into the nothingness, that is everything you see before you, because everything before you is nothing, compared to the light radiant hands that painted the walls the color of the love of the sea, sprayed on, with the spirit of sea spray, encapsulated, by the captivating hands of one who radiates love so deep for all around her. You paint color into the darkness in waves that turn me green with envy, making me a creature on your walls, invisible, and broken, down into the atoms, so low, that I am nothing, but fragments, on the walls, shattered and broken, but brought back together, and rematched, by everything that you are.

You are a shooting heroic star.

I loved her so very much, I decided to treat her poorly.

So in love with black and white, you are, you are my shooting star, you are everything to me, I love you so clearly, so dearly, you are everything that I ever wanted, and needed, please stay always my

HEROIN

I loved her so very much, I decided.

To treat her poorly, was not my intention, and of it I make mention to mention why, I treated her

My treat is to retreat.

I am a coward.

She was mean to me.

I am coward, and did not want to see.

You are an addict.

You are a liar.

I hold a lamp shinning on your soul, alight with HELL FIRE.

You met me once, too bad you forgot

She thinks we are two different people, so very convenient.

You met me once and hated my guts, I am a girl now, and watch me re-do.

Tell me how much you do not believe me, I adore you, and told you sweetly, that I am not what you want, not a lesbian experience, but I can be whatever you desire, if that is what you want….

I can be whatever you want, I am two people, I am your want, I am whatever label you read on me, I am misread by you, for you, all about you.

I am yours to interpret, I am yours to know, I am clearly what I told you so very clearly, but you would rather hear this, so interpret the lie….

I am the opposite of everything you thought you knew, because I am a do-over, because you like women, and I can be whatever you want me to be, baby.

So very

Perplexing

Isn’t it?

Angel

I am sight from different site.

Such simplicity.

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

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.

You make me nervous

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.

Pages: 1 2

I assure you, I am delicious.

Food speaks to me, it tells me to eat it, it tells me I will like it so much better than I can even imagine. This is probably because I am

INSANE

I am probably insane… I am actually insane.

I know this, but I wonder sometimes, if there is something to this, something real, if I am hearing something real, that is real to a small segment of people, but experienced collectively, in that it is the same experience shared by a very small segment of the population, so would that not make it real?

But, backing away, I am caught looking back at you.

I am taken back and drop my things and instantly start to start re-gathering them, while falling apart.

I am fine, I tell you, but you know I am not, you stand looking at me, while my face turns red hot.

What is your problem?

I don’t really know, and if I did, I can’t let it show, that I know the answer because I don’t want to tell you.

I am sorry for the lack of clarity.

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 found these

I miss you, but I do not, I miss you, with heart in not. I am just living a lie, because I have forgotten what it was like to live with you back then, and as much as I say I am fine and completely okay…

You are lying.

I know.

I am never okay..

You are lying.

I know.

I am meditating on pain because I am addicted to misery.

I am meditating on pain, because I like to eat my own soul.

I am mad. I think there is something wrong with me.

I burned these flowers for you baby, in real life and on here, because

I am ****ing insane.

I am lack of clarity, brought about by insanity and vanity, I am enchanted by misery, brought to you by ms.re, she was the last one to chose to see my face that does not wish to be alone.

You are not that sad, stop pretending to be.

I am meditating on times when I was.

Why?

Misery loves company.

You are trying to keep resentment happy? That is pretty dark.

Captionless

What do you do to be involved in the community?

I can do nothing but what I can do, which is not much, because I am not there as much as most.

I can do nothing but what someone who is only partially there would do.

That being said, I provide support to all those who need the advice of an addict/alcoholic/ex-homeless junkie.

I say this with no self-loathing.

I am an ear, an eye, a shoulder, and a hand to those who are in bad situations.

Burning Spray Paint

I am painted

With the embers that

Burn brightly,

In the trashcans, that are lit, by campers of discomfort.

I burn with brightness, that ignites nights whose darkness comes from souls not skies.

You have my heart, sweetheart

You are nothing, ***hole.

Point taken, and proven, so I guess you’re permanent?

I am ever-present, yes.

Color me green, color me striken, I am the quickness of those in dark sickness

You are bitter Hell in a painful shell, of everything on which I doomed to dwell, pain spell, rescast with eyes focused on a past of lack.

Ow, you burned me.

I forgot how I like talking to you, baby.

Me too.

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 head over heels, in love with anyone, who brings me out of this, out of resisting my own state of exist

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

GROUND
GROUND

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.

This is my life, kind of, I don’t know.

When do you feel most productive?

****

That just made me go insane, and then I convinced myself it is because ….. some narcassistic bull****…. so basically, I feel most productive never, absolutely never. I wasted my entire life remember? Oh, that’s right black screen, my hands, the internet, and this is in my head that I am hearing myself read this out loud, I am sitting at the computer, got it.

Yeah, I am going to say never, I know that breaks the rules of the question or something, I am an addict who never did anything with their life, other than spend like 100,000 dollars of my own money over 15 years on getting messed up, so to say I have ever in my whole life felt productive would be a complete lie, that spits in the face of the idea of truth at all.

I wish that damn **** had not resurfaced, both figuratively in my head, and through trying to contact me, and then maybe I would not be complaining on the internet again….

Peace, I failed, least productive human ever.

Dark Reflections

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.

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.

Two Lips, Two Sets, Not up and down

I have two lips, two sets, not up and down, and I told you this, and you did not get it, thought it was an act, so very convenient, well it was not, and it is not convenient either. Both me and her were in love with you in a way, but you were my friend, I loved you like someone loves their best friend, nothing more, nothing less, and so did she, but she saw me in you, and sickly she wants to sleep with herself.

I loved you too. I had never had a best friend before, not one who knew the truth, but you used me, you were not a friend, but a using buddy who was good at honest conversation, and bad at maintaining long term relationships, which is funny, because that is what people have said about me, so, karma I guess.

So sad,

Too bad,

I guess, I get a song on the world’s smallest violin…

Played by some smart tv upstairs that I don’t know how to use.

You are so far away, and I hope you stay that way, but I dream about you everyday because I am an alcoholic and need to think of something else, putting ideas of you back on the shelf.

I am thinking of her, but I am really thinking of you, and when I romance her, I am thinking of you, and everything I felt because of her, which was really all about you and everything you made me feel.

I love you so, you make everything so easy baby, you make it so okay, to be so crazy, and you will never let me go, no matter how far I run, how long I go without talking to you, you know just where to find me, which is anywhere, anywhere at all.

You know that I am small, though I pretend to be tall. I pretend you don’t have the power to take me down

down down down

On the floor, crawling just like before, where I prefer to be, cradling rocks with my hands, because sharp things are my best friends.

Pin cushion

Pin cushion

Words about heroes.

Fish of Condescending Thought, Bought with time spent looking at the ground while I should have been asleep.

Rile me up, I have had enough, I am sheparding myself to a path that is not talking out of my ***.

He was such a good boy, or so they thought, until they gave him the toy, not just any toy, but the best toy in the world, or what he thought was the best toy in the world.

Roy loved horses, of courses, of courses, anyone would love horses.

Ray loved to bite at its legs, so it had none, like most horses I know, say it ain’t so…. don’t you know? don’t you know? A horse with no legs is no good, so Roy simply thought, that he would bite them off, so he did without a thought, and off they came, and then the toy was lame, and Roy switched to a softer toy, shaped like a sandwich.

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.

Blue poking madness, is dark gladness, or glowing sadness

Name one thing.

I am not a drug addict, I just like heroin and can do it responsibly this time, if I just don’t drink. This is actually something you were thinking today. How do I know, because I was thinking it to.

I am a box that never should have been opened.

I am trying it one time, and never again.

I will never do it two days in a row.

I can just drink one.

I can just have three.

I will start at five.

I will start at 12.

Severly, means harshly, and I think that a lot of us talking to each other, can be considered harsh, which is why I like you.

You like me because you have to, because I am you, or half you, and you are in love with your whole self which is half me.

Sick burn.

Silly girl, silly girl, you are my world, you are my world, you turn me up and down, round and round, and into the water.

She tells me, she thinking this area, looks like drinking elephants, I wasn’t thinking about drinking at that moment, but instantly began thinking about drinking when she mentions the elephants, we both start laughing, we are sitting on the ledge, hanging upside down, and looking at this, hanging over the edge, my head hurts from blood rushing to it, my head hurts easier than most peoples.

I laugh and lean forward to kiss her, she pushes me, I am good at falling backwards, for about 30 minutes she thinks I am dead, and for about 30 minutes I am searching for people with booze or drugs under the bridge. She screams down for me, and I come back, some guy gave me something, and I make some stupid joke about drinking like the elephants.

She forgives me.

She looks really good in my shoes, she lost hers looking for me.

I am forever reminded of you Ruby, whenever I think about elephants, which is right now, and yesterday when I saw some earings that looked like the one you lost that day.

Silly girl, silly girl, you are my world, you are my world, you turn me up and down, round and round, and into the water.

She tells me, she thinking this area, looks like drinking elephants, I wasn’t thinking about drinking at that moment, but instantly began thinking about drinking when she mentions the elephants, we both start laughing, we are sitting on the ledge, hanging upside down, and looking at this, hanging over the edge, my head hurts from blood rushing to it, my head hurts easier than most peoples.

I laugh and lean forward to kiss her, she pushes me, I am good at falling backwards, for about 30 minutes she thinks I am dead, and for about 30 minutes I am searching for people with booze or drugs under the bridge. She screams down for me, and I come back, some guy gave me something, and I make some stupid joke about drinking like the elephants.

She forgives me.

She looks really good in my shoes, she lost hers looking for me.

I am forever reminded of you Ruby, whenever I think about elephants, which is right now, and yesterday when I saw some earings that looked like the one you lost that day.

She is not like you, so she is going down, I love you sweetheart and your friend would rather lay down.

She stole your money, and I’ll give it back, little do you know, this is all an act. We tricked you, baby, but you don’t know. I wanted your attention and your friend did know. Now you are sitting thinking she left you here, she is buying something of which you won’t here. I covered for her, because without her, I would never have met you, and after today won’t see you again, and this I bet you, so right now, I will tell you anything you want to hear, and yes have anything you want, I have it here.

I don’t know when she will be back, she did not tell me, and yes she will be back of this I assure, I implore you please relax, your insanity and anxiety is such a tax, I love your voice honey, and love your face, I have something that I am sure will make your pain slow pace.

Okay, she is back no go away, and if you are ever in need you know where I stay.

He told me something

Spoke so clearly, told me that he loved me dearly, he had such a beautiful voice, so I felt like I had no choice, but to make him

CRY CRY CRY

I love you sweetheart, hope you

DIE.

You are part of an empire of chaotic obsession with death that seeks the theft of youth by making them afraid of the idea of truth, so they stick themselves with

PINS AND NEEDLES

Sowing into themselves cushioning, that cuts out everything they are, everything they were before, making them sure of nothing other than that they need endless replenshiment of something that is not food, not water, not shelter, or warmth but

GIVE ME MORE LOVE

I am the act of shove, I am the act of push, I am take everything you have.

I am addiction, I am all consuming, I am ever entombing, I will eat your

SOLE

Of your shoe because your real soul belongs only to you, please

Remember that.

I was just going to lie to you.

I know.

I was going to tell you, I tried my hardest to not be a complete **** all day.

I know.

I had a really hard time.

Me too, it was actually nice to see you fail, because I failed too.

I am not even going to say the very obvious.

I know we are the same person.

I am the…

You are not the better version.

There is no better version.

That is because we both ****

I am okay with that.

I am dark, I am stark, I am vacant vacation from tragic elated state of decline

Toss me please, I am too quiet. I am addicted to the act of rioting sole, soul unsound, bound to condescending pretending to be okay,

Okay, yes please stay, so I can hate you, always and forever, be my friend, so we can fight about nothing over and over again.

I am addicted to the sound of my own voice, addicted to the idea that I had no choice, but to do exactly what I did,

RUIN MY **** life.

I shine with the act of this is mine.

I never look behind, I never look forward.

I am lilly pads, I don’t have eyes.

I can’t sit still, must make ill, must engage in perpetual

Dance

Dance

Dance

With dark fate, with my own hate, of myself, I don’t know why, don’t care anymore really, this was fun to write that is all.

Bite me.

I know, I am not trying to, actually I think I am trying to… I don’t really know why, I like saying the wrong things, it scares people away from me.

I get it, but come on dude, all day…

I just don’t want to go to the freaking doctor tomorrow, so instead of freaking out and crying about it you are telling creepy stories about hitting on women in inappropriate ways?

I guess so, I thought it was appropriate, in that I was trying to get the poor girl to hate drugs as much as I did.

It didn’t even happen so, you’re not a hero.

I am not even going to say what I am thinking…

Good because you’re not that drug either…

Oh, so sad your life went south

I mean that you were spending a night talking to me, I am not worthy of the air that you breathe.

I was very glad you decided to leave,

appreciated the pipe you had up your sleeve,

not very good idea to use a match….not a very good way to get the stuff to catch or melt I mean… I didn’t care… I was entranced by the glow of the light on your hair, but you didn’t seem all there,

I am so tired of the tragic tweekers

Pretty women, darkness seekers, telling people like me you want something better and hanging out with people like me… so glad you decided to catch your ride and go back to him, I wasn’t worth your time anyway.

Looks wonderfully comfortable doesn’t it?

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.

Hey, lovely, is this poision or alcohol or tie die liquid?

Don’t call me lovely, ***hole.

But, you are……..so………..

You are such a lunatic.

I know. 🙂

Happy faces?

I like happy faces.

What?

I am not saying that again. So is that tie die liquid or booze, or some sort of multi-color drink or some kind of strange poison?

Aren’t poison, tie die liquid and alcohol all the same thing to me and you?

You’re point being?

That exactly.

So you were putting it there to kill me?

I was putting it there so you would throw it out the window. I am not good at throwing it out the window, I was thinking about it, and this helped me. I am sorry it didn’t help you.

I don’t like being helped, so I am trying to make it seem like you are the bad guy, so I can turn the whole thing on its head and be the good guy and it’s not working, so I will stop because I don’t care anymore.

Hahahahahhahahah. Check mate.

hahahhahahhha yourself.

Miserable Sandwich

Dueling Whiches, God and the Devil

Describe a random encounter with a stranger that stuck out positively to you.

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.

Send me all your lost souls

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.

Ambience

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.

I am sitting staring at the ground, in this memory with lack of sound, lack of presence of anyone around, simply staring down not up at the plain old ground. I am thinking about nothing, that is a lie, I am thinking about

She Came Out of Clear Glass

Her, as I am usually thinking about her, but not the her that I usually am thinking about a different one….

I heard this voice…. a strange voice, long ago…. this is a memory… this whole thing… not just this part of it…

THE NARRATOR IS INSANE

You don’t even use my name now…. that’s kind of ****ed up

You have too many names to keep using one or the other.

I have two, and one of them is yours.

Point taken.

Are you going to finish your story?

No…… I think I will just leave it with this……..

I am walking by myself, like always every night, possessed by bottle on the shelf of a wall that is abandoned, by all who do not stand in the wreck that my life has landed in

I am darkness, I am pain, I am embodied disdain.

I am dark acid rain

Reigning down on soul of nothing

I have taken up to living. here… my home is here..

Yes, my dear, I have beer, and nothing… I have nothing to…

This is my home.. this is alone.. my home…

If that’s what you call this …in this building… she thinks this is interesting… drunken creature… following me…

Calls me brave, saying I made some stand against something…that I am standing up for something…. myself I assume.. I stand in my own tomb….possessed by the fire of chaotic desire to consume….

I am glamorization of Hell

I am woman’s desire to dispell everything her parent’s told her not to do

I am where you shouldn’t be

I am do not envy me

She helps me light a fire, tells me she wants to be like me.. free….

She does not see what is really there, illuminated godess… standing at the corner of a dark cliff, wanting to jump

Wanting this….

What is it you want

You want this?

Why?

She talks to me for an hour, and for an hour everything is alright, she has to leave in the morning promises to come back, promises she actually meant everything she said.. I know she is lying…… I am nothing but a night of adventure.. I am nothing but the desire to deny potential…

I am the glamorization of a life of loss..

I am the glamorization of the freedom that is the chains of addiction..

I never see her again because heroine’s do not save heroin addicts…

I have to save myself……

Maybe if I do… one day I will see someone like you again.

Alone, a lone alone, a alone

Jails, instutions, death, is where I am free from, and no longer kept.

What place in the world do you never want to visit? Why?

I am not good at following rules,

Never been, never will be, a forever fool.

Never had a taste for being instructed what response to give, with neigh saying being the only way I live, addicted to perpetual fighting condescention

A way to fight my own sown rejection, inherent in everything I do or say, so I feared my whole life that one day I would have to stay, in institutions, jail or grave,

So I made the decision to my soul save, and put to rest the decision to run from place to place, and now I can say I am finally in a place where I fear no jail, instution, or grave situation, no longer existing in idealized fixation,

Instead in freedom do I currently live, so anywhere any place I am free to live.

Slap in the face, there and again again

In the dark of night a fire burns and creates light, the only light under a bridge, in a barrel without lid, burning free for all with site because no one cares no need to fight to hide anything at all because

There is no love for the ever shoved, no one will come to put it out, no one will scream, no one will shout, they want you warm and then want you free, to die under the bridge on your own bent knee, cast to the ground in twisted form, dying from own hand, and sick with scorn, you did it to yourself, now they can say, and so poor addict is thrown away.

The poor exist under bridges of a country, that forgets the addicted and poor and hungry, that ignores addiction and mental illness, and then questions sadness of it children.

I am an idiot. I am a jerk. I am a liar.

Describe a positive thing a family member has done for you.

You were not who I painted you out to be, obviously, clearly, painted, seen through tainted lens, made obvious to everyone but me.

Lens painted by lack of clarity.

The real story is that you did not trust me. You were up my ***, confidence in me, rusted, by lack of knowledge of what I was like, which was fair, heroin addict, addicted to strife.

I forgot what it was like to be you, was unable to lift myself out of my lack of shoes.

I forgot what you had done because I hated myself.

Forgot how you had found me

Forgot who I used to be

Forgot the pulling, and the lifting from the street……

I am so sorry……….

I hate admitting that you helped me……….

I hate admitting that I failed…

I hate admitting that I needed anyone at all……….

I hate admitting that I couldn’t do ANYTHING on my own………….

I still resent myself for being an addict

I still resent myself for being an alcoholic

I am working on this

But I know now

I love you for what you did for me

I am so sorry for what I did all these years to you

You are also not who I painted you to be

That was a reflection of my own weakness

And unwillingness to accept that I can’t handle my own ****

I

Flying through Hell, or Misery, The Same Thing, Just as Well

Resentful Lunacy

Is it hard to see clearly?

I used to see through different eyes, not through mine, but eyes that lied, that lay inside my head, but not, caught by despise and forever wrought with hatred read in all I did, they rested in a face of kid-ding and of attack, they looked in the mirror and saw nothing reflected back.

I had not eyes, but reflecting pools, filled with sadness, and with tragic tools to make myself just like everyone else, tools of magic that sat on shelf.

I would drink them and sometimes smell them, and sometimes prick my hands in vain, and sometimes they would make me, able to stand a very clear disdain.

Describe one positive change you have made in your life.

Looking down at me, I am strong enough to do this, I am strong enough to do this.

I said no, I never say no, and I said no, also said don’t ever offer them to me again because I will always abuse them.

I cut me off.

---

I am epic as ****, I refused pain killers for oral surgery, it’s just as well.

Going to get through this, but it hell, without some heroin pain spell or magic pill.

Never again, never again, I will get there and then my friend

Never again, will I do this to you or me, and I will help you don’t you see

Never Ever, ever, again.

Goodbye to again, again

Just thinking about

Time killer

Time Killer

Time Killer

Eye poking mindbleeder

I hating resign speaker.

---

I wrote a book once, placed it in the trash, it was a love story between me and

DRUGS, not Rei or his name, but a love story written to

things that don’t think by one whose thinking stunk, whose soul was sunk into a murky swamp of inner pain, and soul disdain, and worshiping idolic things at upper shelf.

---

That is all.

Chaos

I have chased myself around this house, all around, up and down

Up and down and

In and out

Of this house

With a doubt

In perpetual doubt.

I am vastly incompetant.

I am light

N-ing

I am not light but the perpetual ing

I not God.

I am not lightning

Not divine, just human being running all the time towards realization

Paint me a picture of the blue, paint me a picture not designed by you, but repainted with tragic recolor

I am not God, just sad human being, that had an addiction to power, and lived in chaos, finding peace in letting go of reigns and watching the rain with peace.

I will follow him
Follow him wherever he may go
And near him, I always will be
For nothing can keep me away
He is my destiny

Are you claiming to be a god?

No, I am saying I was doing what the universe told me to.

I pushed a fox out of hole, and he died because I am selfish, or was anyway, I think someone ate him.

The streets of this country are riddled with screaming, every street corner, ever cover of darkness, is surrounded by the screaming criers of the night, who scream in languages only some can understand.

They talk to me, clearly, not her name, but meaning I understand them, and they speak to me in plain English, because that is the language of the country I am in, unofficially.

We talk of survival, not manipulation, but survival, of who is the best person to ask for money, who will likely hand over a dollar, I am good at this, good at awkward prolonged eye contact, I help them, my fellow nightcriers.

I miss them dearly, clearly, not her name, **** her name.

They are just like everyone else, except their lives have been riddled with danger, and because they are addicts they used or drank about it, and the judgement of others, bothers me endlessly.

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.

The creature under the bed is me

I used to have this hate for this one cat, that poops in the bedroom I sleep in, that is not mine, so I had no right to be mad at the cat, but I used to think he was doing it to me or at me, because I am ****ing insane and everything is at me or to me.

I now remember something hilarious.

I have vomitted in almost every state in the US, in front of people in broad day light, when I was homeless we used the whole world as our toilet because we did not have inside bathrooms.

I am literally this cat, and have metaphorically done what he is doing, I just have to clean it up because I am metaphorically cleaning up the bed I made.

Facts.

You are in every memory I have for seven years.

Staring at me, with hatred

Hate red

Hate read in every action you take towards me, every moment of every day daunted by daunting distrust, by judgement, and pain, that was partly my doing

But

Also yours, and you could have left any time you wanted by the way, and I left all the time, and you followed me.

The over-inflated discolored balloon, of shame, disdain, and madness

I saw you looking at me the whole time, like a medusa, the snake that you thought I was being images cast out of my own head, to scare you away.

I am past this in a lot of ways, but everything reminds me of you, and what I thought you were, because you are in every memory I have for seven years, and I wonder how much of my mental illness getting worse was because of that.

So are you?

Why would I lose my mind if I wasn’t able to go outside, I am inside all day.

My point exactly, and no you are not, you go to that place every day, that you can’t go now, because of cold symptoms.

I will be fine.

Yeah right.

You have very low faith in yourself.

Sick burn.

Nice double entendre.

I am sorry, I am insane, I am in pain, I am acid rain, I am soul disdain of my own making and continuous breaking, taking liberties.

But the fool on the hill sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head see the world spinning around

The Beatles, “The Fool on the Hill”

I once told someone something very strange. They were complaining to me about their ex ALL THE TIME…..

Hey ***hole…

Yeah, just realized that too..

I am sorry by the way, to anyone reading this, who still hasn’t decided to not read it, because you can, because I am annoying.

Why do they need your permission?

Noted.

This post is now about something else. Moving on.

Peace.

“Since we’re all going to die, it’s obvious that when and how don’t matter.”

― Albert Camus, The Stranger

A reply, that defies anything that I thought I would say,

It matters now to me, not to anyone else,

That is not true.

It matters to others too, because it would matter to them, if they did, and to the sky if they did, so it must matter if I did.

People notice things.

Animals notice things.

If God were dead, which I don’t believe he is, then we can be what we want, and I do not want death

No end, my friend, no end.

The rushing waters of a flowing river, flow not chaotically at times, at times they do, but at times they stop and reflect in technicolor, cast on, by the light of the sky, that can be peaceful or full of thunder or full of nothing.

Day 105: Owl

Moreso than most of mine, because they exist not in decline or make mine or eternal infernal bind with fight for time or dime, but instead resign or it is fine that it is not mine, but instead divine.

I am free to live, and give to those I encounter, the thoughts of the previous fist pounder, not the fist pounder, but the fist giver, the pain bringing angry addict of silver tongue, that was never fun to be around for anyone.

Even me, begining in an unconventional way, because I was wrong, and

You were right, and I will no longer fight, because you helped bring me flexible peace. Peices of reflective stained glass of my own re-cast soul, drawn out of hole, and thrown to the sky.

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 loved you once, but now I can’t and I don’t want to, so I don’t

I loved you multiple times, and still do, and I am just trying to be honest with you

Hey, ***hole, you’re talking to a glass.

I know…

I think I have a problem with peace, consumed with moving, digging perpetually beneath, unable to stop and not do, wishing always for something new, I can’t sit still, that is why I think I was obsessed with you.

Dragon eating its own tell, possessing nothing was just as well, I live in inner Hell, because I can’t bring myself out sometimes, uncomfortable with peace, living in internal, eternal, infernal mind bind.

I tied my own hands, behind my back, because I feel being free, and love the feeling of under attack.

Living in perpetual lack of self.

Bottled emotions of alcohol on shelf.

I can’t be myself, because myself was built around you, who am I even without the drugs and booze I used to use???

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

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

I 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.

Her name was Robert Paulson.

Just cursed at my vape and saw a shadow walk across the room, not sure if this is a hallucination or if there really is a ghost in my basement, but will try not to curse at vape again.

I am in a fight with myself, every minute, every second, every hour of every day, of how do I be me, who is that even.

Not a question, because I am afraid to ask it.

Now it is a question…

Who am I even????

What kind of person casts their mother as their psychotic ex-girlfriend………. Diane, Diane, you are so different than I thought,

Diane, Diane, Diane,

Why did I paint you so?

I don’t know?

I like cats

I am so grateful to be out of some of the pain that I was in before. I still have one more crown to get done, and am not even dreading it, but just so happy to be going forward not backward. Nothing has ever felt like this in my entire life.

I made peace with my family, my mother, my father, and my brother do not hate me anymore. I am no longer in need of using my metaphor for any of them, at the moment, may return to it in anger later. There are no promises with me, when it comes to speech or text. I am a very back forth person, but I am becoming alright with it, and myself, all two of me.

I am so thankful for everything that has made this level of peace possible in my life. I really had resigned myself to dying miserable, that was the reason for the original site name.

Damien

I make golden eggs, with a program that re-renders images, because I have no power other than to play with light… or dark.

I remember everything now, I just had someone drill it out of my head, while getting a root canal on my tooth.

A root canal, that dug into the canal of lies, I told myself that made me out to the victim, in a story that was really just a story of one lying junkie that didn’t want to admit that they had fooled themself into thinking no one else knew that every dollar, I panhandled

Every handout I took went to fund an addiction that made me anything but heroic.

I am so glad to be done, so glad to be me, finally, for the first time in my life.

I am still half, that girl, lets call her Lydia. I think she is okay with that now.

I am because I am really also you.

I know, because I am awesome.

I am awesome too.

I know, because we both are.

Being able to deal with getting a root canal without having to be high or drunk, felt amazing, didn’t realize how much weaker being resigned to a life of lies made me feel, so glad to be done with that now, and finally be a whole human being.

Untitled

So I fell down the stairs, and didn’t injure myself

I just almost fell down the stairs, because I always do things twice, even if I don’t want to because I have OCD and one for me, one for you, but I think that is no longer necessary because I almost fell down the stairs because of it, addict.

I like to do something till just before the point where it hurts me, or the point where it hurts me and I know not to do it again, because then it will really hurt me.

I think I used the wrong word. I do things that hurt me, and I know they will, but I am an addict and I think this time they won’t and that maybe I will do something different and experience a different kind of nicotine sensation, or maybe like always, I will almost fall down the stairs, from vaping.

Alcoholism

A child in their teens poses a question in this novel I am reading, that I feel compelled to answer, because I feel it applies to me.

Had all those homeless people in the parks and subways of Manhattan, just not paid attention in class?

Lisa Unger, Darkness My Old Friend

No, Willow. I paid attention in class, I have a MA in Public Policy and graduated with 3.43. I have an minor in philosophy, and my BA is in Political Science, which I graduated with a 3.2 in because I was drinking heavily the whole time.

I paid attention in class, but realized that Political Science caused me to drink and use drugs, but it is the only subject other than fiction and Philosophy that interested me, because it was about the nature of man. I found myself with nothing to do with my life because the system was criminal, or I thought it to be, so I decided if I could not get behind it, I would slowly die, on the streets. I am not a brave person, but I am recovering from mindslaying fear, and going to use my writing to do something positive eventually.

The waves crush them under the force of resentment, and they don’t look back because if they did, they would see a lot of dust, in the tracks of things they left behind a long time ago.

Their dreams, their friends.

Themselves.

I speak for myself and myself only, but speak this way because there are multiple versions of me.

I am a cat. I am a cat. I am a cat. Feed me spare change, don’t feed me to an atm.

Or an at the moment feeling of homeless people shouldn’t have animals, what if I became homeless yesterday, what about my cat?

Doesn’t he get to live too?

Does he get to eat too?

Or does he get put in a cage?

Re-Touch

I realized, real eyes, resurrected, because of you partially, speaker

I forget often that I can have more than negative effect on the world. I feel the positive effect of others on me, but it has been a long time since I have felt me doing anything that seemed that positive for anyone else. I am very insecure I guess.

I missed interaction with people outside meetings and my family, I am not good at making friends, usually only pushing others away.

I am trying to figure out how others do this, how they exist in a world without the connections made through need. I am only good at aqcuisition of things I needed, that I no longer need, so while I am good at making connections, I am not good at getting beyond the point that people know who I am, and you gave me hope today that I might be able to do that, thank you.

This is a ram. I am an aries.

I am so excited about literally what I just wrote up there, two root canals, not that I want them, but that they are root canals, and not two extractions. I thought I was going to have to have two teeth extracted, and I don’t care about how that would look, whatever about that. Change is good..

I am excited because I knew it would hurt and I knew that I am going to deny them giving me pain killers. I told the doctor I was an ex heroin addict to out myself on purpose, so they wouldn’t give them to me.

I am excited that I actually did the right thing about this. That’s all.

I spent an entire meeting, sitting and rocking back and forth, or talking to myself, or laughing out loud, because I am having a hard time not being on my meds, which I have not been on for 10 years… they are an anti-psychotic, which I subsituted with every drug imaginable, and every drink imaginable. I think I am finally feeling what it is like to be a paranoid schizophrenic on nothing, and it is managable, but not very easy. I am not doing horrific at it, which should tell you something about how much better it will be, once I am properly medicated, and back to seeing a therapist, which will happen in a couple days.

To any of you going through the same thing, keep going it gets easier, and I am here for you if you need me.

If I can say anything, it is that if I can do this so can anyone else! I am crazy, and will tell you it is getting way easier for me, and most of the time I am somewhat content. It will get easier for you, whoever you are, too.

Clearly See See Clearly

Trigger Warning: This is another poetic metaphor post, none of these people are real, all material is poetic metaphor, used to illustrate the nature of drug addict/alcoholic relationships. I am writing this because I promised myself to not write anymore negative on here, which this is, but it came to me this morning, and I think I am supposed to write it on here, to show there are not bad people just those sick with the disease of addiction.

This takes the darkest form of the sickness, and is why I used this poetic metaphor. I knew people like the characters I portray in this post, or knew of them, there is great darkness on the streets, I have seen it, and am trying to save others from having to see it as well. This is why I have the Dante’s Inferno category now, the seventh circle of Hell, is cheaters, liars, and other damned souls, like the ones I write about in this post.

Enter Misery.

I know Easy, she was fun and free, she was my baby, my sweet divine, lover of the human bind. I loved Easy…

She was CRAZY

CRAZY

CRAZY

Do you scare Easy, yes I do, I love your girlfriend, she’s so gooooood to you….

Let her play with me…

Easy, baby, you are such a nice lady, your husband loves you, so much, it makes him

CRAZY

You want me honey, that is good, give me your items, we are good, and I will make him sure regret every time he hit you and I bet, that we can all be friends, and you will see, how much better you will be,

BECAUSE OF ME.

I am debt. I am lend, I am let me sleep on my couch, I am your FRIEND.

Casted stones don’t break bones, unless of course, you can’t see, unless of course, you are me

I throw stones at no one, pelting words into the darkness of night, because no one can hear me right?

Do you know what you do?

Blind rage is a cage of the mind, locking down the heart of a human being into animalistic state, clawing for escape in every direction.

The hands that seek to allow its release, thought to be the hands of the captor, and in madness, the claws of the caged dart back and forth, poking the hands of their releaser, jabbing at their hands, with bones they have to pick with someone else, themselves.

I am begining. Nothing else, just starting over from the begining.

That is literally my favorite holiday… ****! I think I forgot it, because I was supposed to, because other than the Fourth of July, it is one of the days I have the hardest time not drinking. The Fourth of July, I used to get hammered and loudly talk about what a good American I was until I almost got arrested, and then I liked to tell the cops arresting me what a good American I was, which would usually cause them to either not arrest me, or to violently arrest me.

It was hilarious.

But it is the reason why I have a bunch of warrants for failure to appear.

I don’t appear for anyone I don’t want to. Not even myself.

Stream of Consciousness

If you could have something named after you, what would it be?

I really just wanted to make the Lord of the Rings joke. That is the whole reason for this post really. I have been trying to find some reason to make a Lord of the Rings joke all day, because I love Lord of the Rings. Which is funny because I have only ever read the Hobbit, and never finished the series, because I am lazy. I have a hard time reading anything that is not a horror story because it is the only style that holds my attention.

I think that is because it is the only style that competes with the horrific images, that are my imagination, which is horrible. I think that might not be my fault though, I think it might be PTSD. I just noticed how often I use the word fault, or blame, and it is a little bit disturbing. There are a lot of times I use this and it is not even something that involves fault or blame. I don’t know why I do this.

What are you looking at honey?

I am standing at the dock, staring out over the water, mesmerized by the way the moon paints the waves with light.

I am cold, not prone to waking up with jackets on, not sure why this is, but I am shaking, but it is alright because it is keeping me aware.

I am listening to a conversation that I am not sure,

Yes, it is real..

I feel hate running red, through my veins, through my entire body, unsure of the exact nature of this, I am aware that it relates to my passenger, Amanda.

She hates this woman, that I can hear now, her voice grating, she’s bragging about something, why would she? Why would she be shouting about drugs outside in the middle of the night? Understood. I get it. This person is a ****.

I am unsure of what the expectation is of my borrowing this body, I think they just didn’t want to be here right now, so screw it. I am going to the convenience store.

To the one I left behind

I am not quite sure if “normal” people worry as much as I do, or even if other addicts or other mentally ill people do, I worry every second I am awake, but I hate sleep because I am afraid of death, I didn’t know that, and just figured it out writing this. That is a lot of why I am doing this, I wanted to know who I even was. I was so caught up in defending myself against the attacks of my exes, I forgot who I even was, or maybe was never anyone to begin with. I have never been alone for longer than a month, always partners in crime with another drinker/user and always co-dependent on that person vice versa, we always existed in a symbiotic way, fueling eachother’s addiction. The worst was with Rei/Justin. The entire relationship centered around drugs, at least for me, I think they hate me as much as they do because of that, because at one point they really loved me, and the more that I think about it, while I emulated love… I never loved them as much as I loved the person I left to be with them, whose name I won’t say online because she asked me not to.

I am still partially in love with her as well, but she is still using, and I am so done, and she is done with me. She was always able to pay for her habits legally, she has her ways, and didn’t like my less conventional ways, so when she would kick me out I would go get high with Rei, and one day we decided to go to Cali together.

All the music I post on this site is thanks to my ex, the one before Rei. I loved her, stil do so much. She is the most beautiful person I ever met in my whole life, and she doesn’t even know it.

Rei was just as self involved as I am, which was great at first, because it made me feel better, but we were always ego sparing, except she was not willing to walk away at first, I am.

I always was, and it drove her nuts.

I miss California a lot, which is pathetic because what I am saying is I miss my lifestyle in California, I have an adrenaline issue, without something causing adrenaline release , I create problems on purpose to cause adrenaline release, another thing Rei/Justin hated and my other ex loved.

We used to throw glass bottles against our doors at our house, just to have something to clean when we were bored, and wanted to get rid of them before anyone saw them. Oh my god, I miss her.

When I say I miss California what I am really saying is I miss living on the streets and not caring about anything, because I am weak and this is hard.

Even if you don’t believe what I believe, the whole God or god thing, what I will say is this.. for me the reason it helps me is because in the Christian tradition the use of the character or real person Jesus, makes it possible for me to meditate on the idea of someone doing the right thing no matter what when faced with adversity, which is the opposite of what I do, and as much as I say I don’t care, that is the source of all my self-hatred the fact that I know what I should do, and do what I want anyway. That is one of the driving forces behind why I am doing any of this, I got tired of justifying being a bad person. I thought it might be simpler to just do the right thing.

I was always arguing with my higher power about if they only knew they would have done it my way, until it hit me that if I believe what I believe, and I do, then they know what to do because the outcomes have been weighed and the right thing produces the most desirable consequences.

That really bugs me out, and made me have a hissy fit about it, about the lack of the point of everything for decades. I figured that one out at 8. I almost died during nuerosurgery at 8, and grapled with the meaning of life from then onward.

I am tired of myself.

Peace

Damien

I like to go to things like this sometimes, because something about it helps me. I have a hard time with my arrogance every day, reflecting on something higher takes me out of myself, and makes me less self focused, which is great because I hate myself anyway, which I am working on, but it is hard to sit with myself everyday, because, most of the time I wish I could break up with me, like everyone else did.. haha…

That was really pathetic… but I am trying to be honest. I think the thing that I appreciated the most about the whole thing is it showed the strength of someone doing something completely out of duty, for something that was not all about them, but a sacrifice. It really spoke to me, because my life has been quite the opposite, and I used to think that made me strong, but I am realizing very slowly, it just makes me an ***hole. I am trying to figure out the middle ground, the way to break the cycle between self assertion and self-pity and self hatred. I am just not there yet, because I am still not able to surrender completely to something, because I am still stuck at the resenting me part.

I really need to work on the whole thing, which I think the first step to is getting over the fact that I am alone, because I need to be right now. I was a self-seeking ***hole and those kinds of people need to be alone sometimes.

Because the kids I played football with would say I throw like a girl, and after being the **** out of them, I would wish I could take this the way they did, just another insult, not something that ate at my soul, because I am a good passer. And I don’t throw like a ****ing girl.

Those times, I would go into my room and talk to a horse, that I had, it was this Arabian Horse model, and it would talk back to me, and sometimes, it would transform into a person who kind of looked like me, but different. My dad always thought I was talking to the devil, but I was actually talking to the devil back words, that was on purpose,

Got it, Damien.

Yeah, lived- devil- funny right?

There are two of me, which is great because I am one of the loneliest people I know, actually I am one of the only… liar…

Woe is me, woe is me, I am lying clear to see, I write under many names, really writing under soul disdain, I am addict hear me cry, I am the ever spinning eating I of soul of the shadow beings of light, flying into human minds, we bind ourselves to their decline.

Hey, that was ****ing mean, I saved your life **** it.

I know, my hands told me to write it to get you to talk to me.

I like it.

I knew you would.

You did?

Yeah, because you are me.

I exist in callous form, I am clearly’s soul reformed, I am Amanda’s soul two no three, I am the act of 1, 2, 3.

Daily writing prompt

When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?

View all responses

I wanted to be free from being in the back of my own head, living a life of falsehood, bad faith pretending to be something I was not just because I thought society would not accept me, us, both of us. I am two people. I don’t care how insane that sounds. I have the thoughts and opinions of two people, and can give two completely separate sets of reactions. I am also me, and trapped in a girls body, but she needed me, she hates herself, because she doesn’t want to be a girl either. Neither of us did. I think we were sentenced to this, because we are both supposed to do something together, but I am crazy and have an overinflated sense of self-importance, so don’t listen to me.

I have no idea what question… oh yeah… when I grew up… I don’t know alive? I will settle for alive… not being dead is good.

I am a tragic dancer, I am a reality distancer, I am a fictioneer, I am addicted to human fear.

I am drinker of beer, I am commiter of jeer.

I am leary, I am query, I am dark, I am stark, I am hate, I am relate.

How do you dance in the dark night?

Do you delight in the

PAIN

Of the fallen?

Or do you pull them up?

I don’t know I don’t know

Say isn’t so?

Where do you go when it is dark?

To.. the answer is changing **** it.

I know, for me too.

For me too.

Sometimes when you are insane, you think everything about you, compelled by things that are not real, because you read into them, things that you were paranoid people thought, not realizing that you were the one projecting those things on those that actually love you.

I talked to my family, and I completely misread the whole thing. I made comments that were made about things that had nothing to do with me, about me, because I was paranoid they were about me. They weren’t. They were about things I didn’t even know about. I told my family that I am going to start paying attention to the times when I have this strange feeling that my body is on fire, because it seems to lead me to say things and think things that are not nice, and based on discomfort from experiencing latent withdrawl.

I am walking through the woods, looking at the trees, and feeling the gentle breeze against my face. It is fall, and not late enough in the season for it to be cold enough to feel like winter, simply just feeling like fall. Like falling into the end of the seasons, and towards the begining of a new year. The leaves are turning colors, my eyes dart from leaf to leaf, each one different, like predictive snow flakes, predictive in that they are very much the same as snow flakes, and signal the end of the year.

I think, that this is what those recovery people talk about, I feel good, like

I told them this is one of the reasons I hate myself, and they told me not to. That they love me anyway.

I think this is what those recovery groups talk about. I feel good, like I will be able to sleep tonight maybe,

Wow.

It’s all for you, Damien.

The Omen

Daily writing prompt

What’s something most people don’t understand?

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I have being having a hissy fit my whole life about having to be someone I am not. I am not Rei Clearly, I am not Amanda. I am me. I am this, I am Damien, take it or leave it.

I should have said that the whole time, instead of saying I was a violent person or a psycho. I am merely just a very angry person, but really only at myself, for never standing up for myself, for drinking and using about something I did to me.

I am done with it, I know I have said that, but I am putting this on here, so I have to look at it, every time I try to word vomit negativity.

Daily writing prompt

What’s something most people don’t understand?

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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…

Daily writing prompt

What’s something most people don’t understand?

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I am sitting on a street corner, watching everyone walk by, making eye contact with people with nice clothes on, for just a second and then looking away, this being a better technique than most people’s “Can you spare any change?”……….

YOU SOUND LIKE AN ***HOLE..

Yeah..

They don’t understand we are just addicts who do not want to screw anyone over, we have to because we are slaves to our addictions, most of us feel bad about it. It perpetuates the addictions of most of us… We use and drink to be able to sleep and think because we are addicts and then we end up, or some of us do anyway, out of the street, having to panhandle, steal, lie, and some of us gain some sort of semblance of pride that comes from being good at it. I am good with words, I liked doing what I did not because I liked being a liar but because I like playing with words.

There are hundreds like me, thousands, who failed and get some sort of semblance of control from panhandling vocally, or writing clever signs, or sitting outside with a sign for 12 hours and making 200 dollars a day.

I am, by the way, an ***hole, but I am trying to change now.

https://wordpress.com/tag/word-of-the-day-challenge

I used to quell spells from Hell, with spells from Hell, and I lived to tell, and it just as well, because I am thinking well, now, that I have learned something I am not trying to sell or tell to anyone really, just keeping it close, even though I am leary, and in perpetual queery, queerly thinking that I am doing something wrong, like a bad song, or a book too long.

I am still resisting, insisting, as I do, to trudge, on on and on.

I am of unsound mind and body still existing on moving forward, as I do because I am consumed with idea of tomb, punish me, baby.

I am crazy, but maybe I am not. Maybe my mind just runs hot, with dissing ease of soul displeased, and teased by my self, and I need to take my life off the shelf, away from the bottles and the sowing needles, of just as well, a life bound to life in eternal Hell.

That is what my friends say is the end to this wicked spell of perpetual defend and cry and die, and lie, and spy with the ever holding eye of crying dying mad and sad. Maybe I am not that bad after all. Maybe I can do this whole living thing, and maybe I am just punishing those around me, by sentencing sentences to the sound of my complaining, does that ring true to you,

Clearly, do what you say, not what you always do.

Love yourself too.

Daily writing prompt

How often do you say “no” to things that would interfere with your goals?

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I used to be completely self propelled, which may sound completely selfish, but hear me out, **** it, I am changing, and this explains how, and that I am realizing what an *** I have been.

I used to trust no one, because I can’t trust my own **** reality, so any interference with my goals.. was met with strong resistance, although I am trying to be more open to the idea that there are good people in this world. I am beginning to trust the advice of a couple close friends, who have become the only people in my life that have began to shift what I believe to be my goals, and by shift I mean establish, and completely alter, by making it possible for me to even have goals to begin with.

I am eternally grateful to these people, and I am so happy to have them in my life, they are truly the first and only friends I have ever had. The toxic people I surrounded myself with prior to quitting my old drinking/using life style are not even considered in the same category.

These people, have the ability to alter my goals. They are more respected in opinion than my opinion itself. I have never had friends before these people. They change my goals every day, by adding new layers of insight to the foundation of who I even am. I did not know this, until very recently, and still do not even know it now. I am learning who I am through the relationships with others I have begun to form now. They are shifting my ideas of who I am, what I could be, and helping me form new goals.

https://fivedotoh.com/2023/03/25/fowc-with-fandango-jovial/

“When we say that a man is jovial in disposition, we are conscious that we are using the name of the great Roman god in vain,”.

Funk, Wilfred, Word Origins and Their Romantic Stories, Page 28

I am jovial, I am rude, I make Roman God, a human mood.

I think that my human state of being is divine, my heart, so fine.

Watch me speak with words careless tossed, like man who loves to just get sauced, I am happy, I am free, I am elated, I am me.

I need nothing, I don’t frown, I am flying, don’t look down, I am gliding, I am elated, I am fixated, not properly punctuated, I am ranting, I am mad, I need no breath, just pauses sad, because in this state, I cannot last, I am the eyes of man who drinks from tainted glass.

Look at me, look at me, I need nothing, I am free. I am happy, I am me.

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https://ladyleemanilablog.wordpress.com/2023/03/20/sunday-poser-124-and-wordle-597-luck/

I used to believe in luck, and my ability be flying through life on the wings of a plane, that was going down, to the ground, burning till I realized, I could jump off the plane, and trust, that I need not be a brain that was covered in rust, I could get clean by rain that was brought by trust, that all I needed to do is look up, and see what was above me. I am not the highest thing, I may have been higher than anything, but I was falling fast, and rather be destined to crash.. I realized that I had to make my life last and grab onto something that would make things last.

I now believe in faith, or simply have it I guess, and so when my mind is unrest, I do not feel pain in my chest, or find myself compelled to undertake dark quest for something ripped out of devil chest, I simply trust in something higher than fire could ever make me, and I am finally realizing that is greatly

More peace-bringing than luck and a dedication to an empire fueled by fire driven desire could ever make me in a million years.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2023/03/26/rdp-sunday-muskrat/

I didn’t know the river, that I thought was a river, was really a swamp. I couldn’t tell from where I was standing, it was too dark.

I had not paid much attention either, having had to make a quiet escape, while my “friend” was sleeping, so as to not offer any explanation and justify my leaving.

I am looking out over the water, I am hot and itchy, it has been days since I showered, and by days, I mean… probably weeks, probably a month. I don’t know the difference between the segments of time, they make no difference to me anymore. I am itchy, and there is water… or ehm.. I was itchy.. and there was water… I am not good at the whole tense thing sometimes either… I am always tense…….. tense….. it is just a state of mind….

I jump into the river, or what I think is a river, and it feels good for a second, just one, till I realize what I have done, and the fatal error I have made. This is a swamp. I panic, pulling at weeds, and struggling to not sink too far into it, it takes me 45 minutes to escape my failure at showering, and I look like a drowned muskrat.

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/34771988/posts/4623259682

“I knew I shouldn’t watch, that she wouldn’t want me to. But the way that water slipped around her bare skin rooted me in place. The moon shone down on both on us both, alighting her beauty, and me in sin.”

I have no voice, or choice to move.

I am not man, I am not one who desires food.

I am unlike this woman, I observe.

I am home to nest, I am home to bird.

She does not know, because she cannot understand, I am a tree, and yet I see, her where she stands.

https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2023/03/25/happiness-6/

I used to play Mario, and have hissy fits at the screen when I would lose, I hated it, but everyone liked it, so I would play it and almost break the game system, and ruin it for everyone else. I was never a very happy child.

Everyone else would sit there laughing at making jokes, enjoying the thrill of the game, and I would be thinking about stealing wine from downstairs, because Mario made me so freaking nervous. I was always running of cliffs or jumping into the Goombas, hands shaking with anger or nervousness, and then running away to go find alcohol downstairs. I was 13.

My entire life as far as I can remember, has been very much like this game, a chaotic running into Goombas, or dealers, or cops, or people who want to kick my *** because I ripped them off, or my family mad because I spent all my money on things that no one should spend any of their money on.

I am happy today because I literally forgot, today is my 90th day sober and clean. I am so consumed with being happy about other things, I forgot I was not drinking or doing drugs.

I have never known happiness like this. It cost me nothing, and I can have it by not buying things I didn’t need, if I keep doing the right thing, which makes me feel good anyway.

HIGH SCORE

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?

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