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.

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Addict Resentment Haunted House

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.

I realize this now, why am I doing this?

I don’t know.

I am so alone.

I feel like if I don’t stop, I will not have to be alone.

I can’t move on, because I can’t be alone.

Untitled

Untitled

I am green with envy

I am green with sickness

I am green

I am mean

I am coming undone

I am no fun

I am sickness

I am addict.

I relate humility and humiliation, a lot because I always did. The root words are similar, and for me, until today actually they appeared to be the same thing, forced bowing, like someone had conquered me, or something… the spirit of the Spanish Conquerer, someone said something to me about my name and that. It hurt… but so does someone saying I have brown eyes, because everything hurts my feelings.

I was listening to someone say that I have to do a fearless moral inventory, and the thing is… I don’t know what the **** that even means because for me morality has always been enforced with fear, Spanish Catholic superstition.

It is funny, I was cleaning with Diane when the spider incident happened, and she got mad, and I think it was partly because she believed the spider to not be real, and even if it wasn’t what different does it make? I saw it, so even if it was unreal or real, is it any more okay or not okay if it is or isnt? I made a loud sound because I was genuinely afraid in that moment, of something I thought I saw.

A walk through Misery, provided by the lens of remembering a lack of clarity.

Where do you go when it’s dark?

Do you go to the land of the stark

And light stricken chaotic dimension of pain? Do you meditate on disdain?

Do you cry of the life lived in vain?

I did once too, I cried just like you. I walked with eyes shut, and mind off, and feigned cough and feigned gasp, with hands clasped around my tools of fixation and dilation.

I have found a way out.

I see three shadows

There are people in the lands that are outside this hell.

We are people that have been were you are. We have felt your pain.

We are on the other side of it now

We are here to tell you, you do not have to walk alone any longer. We are here if you want to talk to us, and all we can do is share how we got to the other side of misery. Ask me anything and I will tell you.

Eat honey

I eat honey, I am sweet, in this act, I am complete. I eat sweetness. I resign. I live in hole. I am not divine. I eat sweetness, cause decay, I am a bee. I sting, and make pain stay.

I cause infection, I can cause death. I make sweet items, and fill request, for sweet honey, wanted by man. I am a creature and have legs to stand.

I am a creature, that dances on flower, I create item, which soul devours. I dance on flowers, that cause joy, but I am also Hell’s toy.

I am self-assertion, I am ego insertion, I am screaming, I am forcing, I am driving, I am shoving, I am burning, don’t care if you are crying.

I am forcing.

I am forcing.

I am enforcing.

I am understanding.

I am under standing

I am demanding.

I am telling

I am forcing.

I am your soul’s theft.

I am every reason you remember this house you left.

I obviously love doing this to myself? Can’t you see? It is so comfortable and has nothing to do with how anyone else treats me, because you know I am not a real human being with feelings, just a headless chicken waiting for surgery… or insertion of ideas into my head… same thing…

I need to live alone, the results of this oscillation are dizzying. I am not, nor have I ever been good at the whole living with people thing, it goes well at first and then they realize what I am like and try to HELP, or cure parnoid schizophrenia through polite suggestion of normal adaption strategies and ways to fit in.

I am sorry, I hallucinate, and am never sure how much of my reality is real. I do things that upset and scare people like

singing to myself

talking about innappropriate things because I do not know the difference between appropriate and inapproriate

not knowing the difference between emotional honesty and aggression

talking all the time, under my breath to myself, at myself, with myself

So now I because I live hear, and people couldn’t leave me alone, I get to feel uncomfortable for asking to be left alone, and not being left alone, and snapping.

I am accountable yes, it is my fault for snapping yes, but I just wish I knew when I was going to figure out a way out of this situation so I could do what is best for everyone and get out of here.

saying whatever comes into my head instantly because I no longer have an inner monologue

I need to get out of here, and to a place, by myself, before I lose my mind permanently.

Oh, now you can’t talk suddenly, well good, at least this helps clarify what the *** is going on here. Leave me alone, **** it.

I need to get on my medication.

What now? I wrote down your stupid thing you were saying at me **** it.

You are always alone.

I am trapped in my own head.

I know, I am working on it… wait why am I still typing to you, get the **** out of my head.

City of Hurr I Cane

I am sin, I am sin, let me in, let me in, I will knock down your doors, I will eat at your floors, I am corrosive, I am erasing, I am maddening and saddening, I am resigned to be lurking in the minds of the damned man, who sadly

CAN’T STAND ON HIS OWN TWO FEET

Isn’t it neat? Isn’t it fine? The decline of the decaying mind? It i is great, isn’t it?

No. You are wrong, death’s song, playing on and on, and on and on, ryhming madness, soul sadness, see you caught me doing it.

But, this is ****, this is stupid, I don’t want to listen to you anymore.

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.

They hurt so bad right now, I think this is a meth withdrawl side effect, this is really intense. They feel like they are on fire. I think I mentioned this before, and associated it partially with the schizophrenia, and guilt. I think it is overblown by that, but seriously this is killing me. It is actually better when I am moving them. They are killing me though. Oh. my. god.

This is so freaking intense.

OW.

Okay, found it, it is called PAWS. Post acute withdrawal, or my hands burn because I damaged my nerves, that and severe body dismorphia, and nausea are the most severe things I have right now. I have such a hard time eating because I guess along with everything else I have issues with that too.. oh well.. done complaining… my hands are feeling better,

I see no end, to your voice, see no end to no choice,

I hear you in my head, over and over,

Saying things you said, that I ignored, shut you out.

I would at the time rather have lived without

Hearing that you hated me, wished me to know with impunity, but now I wonder, and I fear,

Whether you were right and so my dear,

I am so sorry for shutting out

All words you said, because I live in doubt, had I listened, had I changed, would I still be in such pain??

Would we both be better now? If I stopped using then, had put it down, if I had agreed, done what you said, would I still be alone and dead inside

I am right now. I wish I had something not life without.

I was stupid. I was wrong, and now I wish I just had gone

Along with anything you did or said and maybe I would not wish I was dead.

RDP WEDNESDAY: NSFW CONSEQUENCES: SELF HATRED

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2023/03/29/rdp-wednesday-consequences/

I remember

A time when both of us loved each other, when the thought of you made me feel things, I thought I would never feel, nothing like anything I ever felt before. I remember for the first time in my life, not being so present, in my self-asserting madness, being there with you and not aware of me existing at all, as a seperate entity.

Toxic relationship they say, but is it really? I feel like I am toxic myself, like you made me less so…..

I don’t even know..

I just wish I hated myself less…

Maybe that is the consequence of all this… I hate myself…… so much………..

See there was nothing to save, I was right, you were wrong, and you saved yourself from watching me slowly rip myself into a thousand pieces. I didn’t want to do anything with my **** life anyway.

I am getting better, and I don’t need you, anyway. I can do this without your help, because you never understood… I kept saying over and over I am done, and you would want to go out and have a drink with me. I can’t ****ing do that responsibly, and I told you that. OVER and OVER and OVER
and you insisted you could teach me how to drink the right way????

I don’t want to drink anymore **** it. I am doing this now, and you are still saying you are worried about me, and you are still using????? HOW AM I THE BAD PERSON????? STOP CALLING ME.

THIS happened two weeks ago, de Soto.

No one calls you anymore.

That is not true, I have friends…. just not her. Just not her.

I said kill me baby, would you please? I am on my freakin’ knees, begging honey would you dare, let me touch your pretty hair? I love you baby, don’t you know, do you really have to go? I want you badly, miss you greatly, have been thinking of you lately, so I say honey please answer me, I miss you so, won’t you please, please, please,

PICK UP THE PHONE

Don’t leave me here alone, I am sorry, I was drunk, I didn’t know what I thunk, I don’t know what I said, I was silly, soul so dead, please call me back back back

My soul I attack attack attack, tell me what I said, to make your eyes, oh so read, please please please.

I will stop drinking **** it. I swear I am done. This isn’t fun anymore.

Daily writing prompt

What do you wish you could do more every day?

View all responses

I am alone in the woods, on a path, in the middle of the night.

It is around three in the morning. I am guessing, there is a complete blackness to the sky, and silence that suggests the birds are still sleeping.

Looking up at the sky, I wonder if anyone, or anything is awake yet, if there is another animal that is like me and drawn to frantic pacing at this time, somewhere anywhere.

I listen for any noise that would hint of any kind of life at all, but there is nothing, there is an absence to the air, that suggests lack.

I breathe and feel like sound is missing from the universe, unsure if there is something wrong with my ears, if I have lost my mind completely, if I am tripping myself out, what it even means to hear at all.

I cough. I can hear myself. There is sound.

Looking up at the sky, I trace the existence of me, as something separate from the night, I can feel my hands, they hurt. The coldness of night bites into them with every movement, a slicing that feels like sharp needles, sticking into them with every movement.

I cough again, and can hear the sound, radiating into the echoing darkness.

I sigh. I am relieved to have released that in this all consuming starkness of light, I am still separate, able to feel myself, as an entity which exists in a universe of parts.

It is very dark. I can see nothing in front of me. The moon is absent from the sky, and there are no stars, blinking, I think I am crying. I am not sure. I don’t remember what that feels like, or how long I have been standing here, and cannot tell if I am looking down or up.

Moving my neck, I figure out I am staring up.

I blink my eyes. Nothing.

I am still shrouded in the all consuming darkness.

It is very cold, the cold has spread from my hands to the rest of my body, feeling like a bitter aching, hurting like sharp knives with each movement, but without the sound of reassuring wind, that makes me aware of passing storms.

I am not sure if this bitter cold, if it is something characteristic of the season, or of it is something I am feeling in this spot, right now that is very much specific to me.

A journey through MISERY

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

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

er of one.

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

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

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

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

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

17 years. Of this.. on and off.

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

Damien/Amanda

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2023/03/20/your-daily-word-prompt-Wound-ydwordprompt-March-20-2023/

Warning- I use poetic metaphor to illustrate intense feeling of dual diagnosis addict/alcoholic dealing with manic/depressive symptoms during break-up. I used bleeding out as a metaphor here for pain in recovering from the breakup and it is graphic, if triggered turn back now.

I am lying on a beach, in my head, because it is winter, and bleeding out, of a wound that is not literal, but in my heart, my soul, my mind, bleeding all the time, dying over you, my ray of light. I loved you with every fiber of my very fragile being, and I am admitting that because I finally realize I need to, to stop bleeding out of my soul. I am doing this to save my life, because you cut my soul so deep, I thought I would die, without you, and that can’t be true, but in the moment, I felt it so strongly so deeply, an aching, pounding sickening vomit inducing ache that penetrates everything I am and makes me have to violate everything I have ever believed to be strength to scream on here in pain to save my life, I am so hurt. I need someone to hear me, and this page hears me.

I want so bad, to have what I never had, what I imagined, so vividly it seemed real with you. I was stupid, I am insane, and somehow I made you out to be, everything I wanted, and I don’t know how I convinced myself that is who you are, when you just wanted items and money and confidence from me. I hate myself so much for being so stupid, but writing this makes me realize if nothing else at least I am not you, at least I tried to be kind, and I would never do to you what you did to me. I am healing through the realization that while wounded and crazy sometimes, I don’t want to hurt anyone like you hurt me, so I will keep going and stay clean and sober and hope one day I will find peace.

I am beginning to feel better, hands that perpetually around my own neck, ringing it, and choking without realizing that I can just let go. I am so tired, exhausted from the chaotic pacing in the middle of the night, to find a safe place. I am reminded of my friend from California, and a night we spent huddled together under his jacket, crying while smoking to stay awake, we wanted to sleep so bad, our eyes heavy with the act of finding safety, away from the burning abandoned building were fires were started and blamed on drug addicts who fell asleep with fires started. No one knows the truth, there is something or someone out here, and it is hunting us, and I am afraid all the time, so I spread a rumor that I am dangerous, hiding behind perceptions of people like me, it keeps people away enough that I can survive.

I am prone to foxhole prayers, praying to anything that will listen, saying over and over, please help me, if you help me I am done… but I am not done, because I can’t rest, because it is not safe, because they come while you sleep. I don’t know who they are, I just know people I know are disappearing and they keep pointing fingers at us, and it is not true, we love each other, and are so afraid, and would do anything to sleep. I am so tired.

It’s pouring rain, I have been walking a long time, pacing, in the darkness and lamenting the fact that is raining and I am cold, and wet and tired, in this moment I forget the day’s events. I forget begging the universe for a shower, saying I was thirsty and could use a drink of water, crying for someone to help me.

My head is very loud, racing thoughts that sometimes threaten to drive me mad, screaming at me, and a lot of the time it is hard to hear anything at all. I am trapped in my own head sometimes, a prisoner to my racing thoughts, chained to the walls of my mind like an inmate. My hands are hot, because I have my fists clenched, my palms are bleeding on both hands, and they are burning, the rain feels good on my skin, kissing it with the raindrops, it takes me out of my angry ranting thoughts and reminds me of earlier in the day. I think I am crying, but can’t tell the difference between my tears and the rain, the only indication that I am crying is that I feel like I am gasping for air and have been not able to catch my breath.

This is just a memory I have, I don’t know what it is about. I am not sure.

There is a gate, it is up ahead of me. I open it and I sit down, I am compelled to look around, and start looking through a flower patch, there are bones in it. I start crying again, and remember someone I knew who I was looking for, for some reason I think these might be their bones. Something is telling me this, I do not know why. I feel like I am being watched, but can’t keep myself from falling forward and curling up into a ball, I am crying harder now.

I don’t know who is hunting us, more and more of my friends disappear every day and it is not by any of our hands. I have lost five friends recently, and they have never found the bodies, and I am suspicious because I don’t think they died of overdoses, and I know it was not by my hands or anyone else I knows hands, but it is being made to look like that, it is being made to look like the deranged lunatics are taking each other out, and I am afraid, because I don’t know who or what is behind this, but it terrifies me. I am afraid to sleep so I engage in something I thought I told myself I would stop doing, so I don’t fall asleep. I feel like I am going throw up.

What makes you most anxious?

I named myself See Clearly because that is not what I do, I do not see clearly at all, because my ego it is tall, or it used to be I mean, because I am a liar, a whiner and a wine-r, or not really because I prefer whiskey, or anything that is risky like heroin or meth or how about crack or death? You know things like those, things you stick in mouth or nose, or suck through glass, because I want to die, and that’s not true, what I really aim to do is..

Get the *** away from all of you, because you make me anxious, because you hate me, or maybe I do.. I don’t know… but I feel it when it you look at me please ****ing go. I am telling you go away, **** it! I hate the idea of panic and judgement, I hate you and everything you meant

To say, but didn’t, I can hear you thinking **** it, or maybe that is me? I don’t know the difference…

I guess… it’s me… what makes me anxious is me…

and addiction and lack of control and framed photos of animals in suits..

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

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

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

GET OUT

Of one’s self, pushing those around

GET OUT
NO

I am you

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

AN ETERNAL REWARD

Manifesting in alcohol consumption or consuming

POISON

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

SOUL

ER
ER
ER

SAILING

THROUGH TIME

ER
ER
ER

Back now.

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

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

I began training my dog to help me with a personal mission. I wanted to hunt wild boar. It was not just for me, but for her so she would stop chewing on my leg and her leg, because I was paranoid she wanted to eat mine, so I thought maybe she could eat a wild boar’s leg instead.

When I am lucid, I know that she never had any intention, of chewing off anyone’s leg,

Not mine, not a wild boar, not hers

I just thought of this because I am

INSANE

I have a functional brain that works most of the time, but sometimes

IT DOESN’T

And there is no fear in me to admit

WEAKNESS

Anymore, because I have realized that the

WEAKNESS

I had was in my failure to admit things, not in admitting them or making them into other things, in creative metaphor to slay like metaphorical dragons, I was just experiencing

FEAR

And I am no longer

AFRAID

Or have to roll around in

AGONY

Because I cast out these metaphorical demons on a black screen.

I am your admission that your guilt is real,

I am your recognition that your dragons represent guilt erected into a false sense of pride and shame blame that explains why you

FAILED

But I am also your strength in admitting this and

Casting it out.

I am an inner demon, I am a deep seeded hatred, I am a future projection,

I am what you feel, I am who you are, I am who you are in the process of seeing

I am you. I am fighting you

To be real

Because you are an addict addicted to the things that make me

UNREAL

Making you unreal with a desire to un-feel.

I hear things, I hear phrases, they come to me, constantly. I get stuck on them, a decoder of messages coming into my mind, that could mean something or nothing, who knows, but I decode them on here because it helps me personally deal with them, and not shout them on street corners, or talk to myself while pacing around in decaying madness. I noticed with this one, that I put in the title, reckless abandon, that if it spelled like the above, wreck less abandon, that it means something different.

Wreck

 the broken remains of something wrecked or otherwise ruined. (dictionary.com)

Reck

pay heed to something.

Less

a smaller amount or quantity of something.

before subtracting (something); minus.

(Archaic) of lower rank or importance.

to a smaller extent; not so much.

To me this means

The broken remains of something of lower rank or importance

a·ban·don

cease to support or look after (someone); desert.

give up completely (a course of action, a practice, or a way of thinking).

complete lack of inhibition or restraint.

This to me speaks on two levels which makes me employ both

cease to support or look after (someone); desert.

The broken remains of something of lower rank or importance

Wreck less Abandon

Read this way

Someone of perceived lesser importance, removes prior restraints causing lesser importance, and turns to mission of more importance, which is removing inhibitions or restraints, or the chains of addiction and helps the abandoned or lost of society.

Just a thought, through language dissection of schizophrenic thoughts.

The mist ascends over the river in the dark light absent night of a missing moon, that is not missed, simply missing, a vacant blankness with no space indicated that marks its blankness, no spot where a moon would even be, a blank canvas of lack of light.

I am standing staring out over the water, knowing only that there is even water there, because I am familiar with the place I am. Other than my presence of mind and awareness of where I am placed in time, there is no indicating factors that would suggest that I am anywhere at all, the night is black and I see nothing in front of me, and nothing below me.

I stare forward into the nothingness, keeping my presence of mind, by meditating on the painful cold that pounds in my skin, the rain is falling down on my hands and arms now, I say it that way.. because they are bare, I can’t feel it touch the rest of me.

I look out over the water, the only thing letting me know there is any separation between me and any of this, any perceiving instead of being oneness, is the fact that I remember being a being that sees.

There are slight beings of light on the water now, they dance in the nothing, looking like shadows, which is strange, because there is nothing to cast shadow on, they are dark, as dark as shadow and reflecting to my eyes or to my knowing, not sure which, and they speak to me, somehow I know them, I know their pain. They pace across the water saying nothing, and I can feel their pain, and then, it all fades, a light comes on, and I look up at a street light, there must have been a power outage.

A man is sitting on a bench alone, he asks me how long I have been there, says he didn’t know there was someone else watching, like him, the dancing on the water. I tell him I don’t know, and we leave it at that. He walks away.

I have parents, who love me, who I abandoned to go across the country doing drugs with my ex who then tried to do things to me that are unspeakable, and are being told in allegory because, **** he tried to do things that are so **** that I dare not reveal that much about him. I have never hurt anyone just myself and speak of murder and crime as a literally and therapy tool used in allegorical repressed rage, because I hate the situation on the streets of this country and wish I had done something instead of being out there getting high with people who died, or hurt people. I have never killed anyone, hurt anyone, other than myself. I just have repressed rage at me so I made myself out to be a recovering monster, because I am, but not a violent one, not to any one else, just my own soul.

This is the reason for my anonymity.

I do not want to cause danger anymore to my family who are not Damien’s but a very normal one, who did not deserve a drug addict/alcoholic who should just have admitted they were non-binary Damien/Amanda/gender queer/schizophrenic drug addict/alcoholic the whole time, then maybe I could have a last name on this site.

Damien/Amanda.

Amanda has a couple of these, except unlike me, she never married them. One of them is still trying to find her, **** him.

There are people who are in love with causing pain, not capable of being in love with people, but with the act of hurting people itself. That is what Deborah or Diane is, she is a harpee, not literally, but like one, she was in love with watching me be in agony. I was in love with it too. Don’t get me wrong, she was in love with me too, I know this, and that was what drew me to the whole thing. I never loved her, and it drives her crazy. She wanted nothing more than to possess me, and make me possessed by the same force that possesses her, but it can’t touch me anymore, and it never consumed me the way it consumes her.

I first began to hear Misery or resentment speak to me when I was eight years old. I almost died, and was saved by the grace of mercy, however I was very young and very angry. I did not know what it was, but it spoke to me because I wanted it to. It said things that I liked hearing, that I was justified in my anger, that it was good to get it out of my system, that I had every right to feel the way that I did, that everyone would feel the same way if they only knew how different and how hard my specific situation was.

That is what it does, it isolates you, putting you on a pedestal, worshiping you, making you feel special and then in very crucial moments slicing at the parts of you that hurt the most, at your darkest fears. It knows them because you tell it to it, instantly, it makes you want to. It tells you it understands, that you are special and different and complicated, and that anyone if they knew just how hard it was to be very specifically you, would have done exactly as you did the whole time, that you are never wrong and to be worshiped and this feels good, and you fall in love with it, and then it tells you what it wants, and it wants servitude. If you do exactly what it wants it will pet you like a cat forever, you will never be alone again, unless you forsake it, and then it won’t leave you alone either. Slowly, having captivated you, it switches, playing with you, alternating between cutting at the very things it said it loved and telling you it is the only one who loves those things, that no one else understands you like it does, and you are very special to it, and need to remember that because only it knows it, and only it will treat you exactly how you deserve.

I know now that the voice that came to me then, was Deborah or Diane because she doesn’t age, she has always been 35. She will always be 35, I don’t know how. She came to me back then when I was 8 and tried to mold me into who she wanted, and I loved her, oh that and began feeding me poison, and telling me it was our secret, and if I kept it secret, she would to.

She did this to me for years, and it felt so good because she was also my provider, she gave me everything she had to keep me around and I let her stroke my ego because I liked it.

Rei is not my daughter’s mother, Deb or Diane is, but I will not tell Rei this. Diane or Deb is poison and she was trying to kill our child, or enslave her which is the same thing, she was testing certain things on her, and making her do things for people with the same strategy she used on me, except on a 18 year old girl, who was created by Deb’s company in a lab, to always be 18. Terrifying really. More about this later.I am not revealing this to Rei myself, if she finds this out on her so be it.

More about this later, I am freaking myself out and it is late.

Hey, that is mean..

I know, but I thought it would get you to talk to me.

Jerk. Fine, here.

I am fine.. I am fine. I am fine. Everything is just ******* peachy. I can’t even feel things anymore lest I resurrect demon. Everything is my ******* fault. I can’t have a genuine response. I am not allowed to.

Geez. You can, just think of the effect on the other people.

I am. That is all I am thinking about right now, I am just going to not do anything, anymore. I am the… I sound like such..

Yeah, I know.

Thanks, I need that.

I know.

I stick stones in lollipops made of glass, that look like men made of glass, standing up right with open mouth screaming white smoke, toke and choke on time lost, my cost is the tossed life of the sauced who living in strife consume life in toke of fire smoke. I am the act of spending time collecting dimes to spend on dimes that waste time by turning it on it’s head till you are dead form drifting through land of screaming men.

I am the eyes of friend, so frayed and decayed, he forgets his own name. I am slain by the hand of item time, or meth mind spelling words wrong, I am song rearranged by chopping into pieces, like rocks burned in glass isn’t life a gas? It is for the dead walking, forever talking of nothing, singing songs and saying words that have no meaning, just screaming, because we forget what it means to talk when we stalk death with lack of sleep, we are afraid to die so we lie down never and lie always and forever.

I am sad but glad to get out of myself, I see my generation on a shelf of caskets, and I am screaming your are dying not climbing. High yes, but high enough to die. Please get down, your mind is fizzing because it is breaking, there is no lifting in your shifting to zombie.

Come back down. Please, before you hit the ceiling and break into a thousand peices.

I wasn’t going to do it, but I have just spent the last however long, rocking back and forth about to freaking vomit. This sucks. I am so glad it will be over soon, if anyone is wondering this is happening because I compromised my kidneys, liver, bladder and had to get my gall bladder removed because of drugs and alcohol.

I can’t feel my hands that well because of lack of circulation due to drug use, and I am missing three finger tips. I feel like trash.

I get the infections from chronic MRSA which I have because of being an IV drug user for 8 years or so.

I have stomach damage from bad vodka, and whiskey, so I have acid reflux a lot, and I have a tooth that is killing me because I ripped someone off and they punched me in the face and split an already split in half tooth all the way to the root, which I left like that for 6 months.

Sorry

Damien.

I am also reminded to freakin’ eat, I just felt sick and realized that was the stupid problem.

I mentioned before something about red lights that I would see on occasion somewhere else, that I don’t like to speak of here in Misery. It is a location, which does not need to be discussed in specificity to its exact locality.

The strangest thing about this place is that it seems forever set in motion on a trajectory of the damned. There is some sinister purpose that pollutes everything in the area, from the needle filled streets, to the garbage lined sidewalks, to the very eyes that look at you with silent disdain. The land is full of angry souls, reeking of resentment and writhing in such visible agony that is only not visible to them, what is truly terrifying behind all of this, is most of these people speak with the same voice, as if possessed by something, or thinking all the same thoughts, I am not sure what it is, and do not mean to suggest only demonic possession. I relay only what I have seen.

I am going to leave it at that for now because my cat is losing it, and it is very distracting, and as always my stomach hurts.

Later

Damien

I have been a basket case all day, up and down and up and down. I am so exhausted, that I just can’t do this anymore. I am resolving now to try and move on. I am accountable for everything I did. I know this, but I don’t think suicide is the answer, or rather I know it is not. I can’t do that to those around me, and I have been driving myself in the opposite direction today. A lot of what I have posted today, has to do with me flipping out because there are no meetings today, so even though I have my family… I am very much alone in my own head until Sunday, church helps me. I don’t know why I have to do this to myself. I am driving myself crazy, and I don’t have to, but my brain does it anyway. I am really starting to think I need professional help. I am getting my other affairs in order and then I think I am going to start going to therapy.

I have finally reached a point where I can safely admit I am no longer able to do this with the resources I have, as helpful as they have been. I can’t keep doing this to myself because it is painful for those around me to watch. I keep trying but then my bipolar defunct brain keeps sending me back and forth and it is maddening. I am a lot of the time incapacitated by my own inner demons. I wish I could stop, but I think it may be time for me to admit I need professional help.

I just hope I can do this.

I am so tired of the back and forth hellish roller coaster I have been on.

I don’t want to do this like this anymore. I am sorry to anyone who worries about me. I am trying really hard.

Love,

Damien

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2023/03/05/wordle-595/

I am sitting on the edge of a cliff, which is not really a cliff, but it feels like one because everything in me screams jump. I feel my legs beneath me as I sit in front of this screen, but I don’t…. I am so numb.

My mind aches in writhing agony. I do not know why I remembered any of this today. I have not know. I just had these horrific flashes back and forth to a dimension of exaggerated chaos. I know that I am not the one responsible for killing anyone with my own hands, but I am numb and don’t know how to interpret what I actually did. I can’t stand to face myself when I have this happen, the flow of nightmares that are indistinguishable between real and unreal flooding my mind and making me quiver in agony.

I walk through life now, a twisted twig of a human being. I am numb and propelled by a voice that is not my own that hangs over my head like an un-holy halo of chaos. It screams at me all day of times when my desire for something that I do not even have anymore, something that was not worth the 30 seconds it felt good, was it worth giving up the ability to save my friends lives. I have lost touch with everyone other than Rei. I exist in a world with her and my daughter alone, where sometimes it is good and sometimes I am so haunted by my inner demons, my soul feels like it will collapse on me, a chaotic implosion, that like an aching black hole, will consume me from the inside out. I am not an evil person now, but I was and I have no idea what that makes me now. I am so empty.

I am just, lost I guess. I don’t know where to go with this. I don’t know what I should do with everyone I remembered hurting. I am leaping from feeling to feeling unsure of the reality of any of it anymore, how much of it am I responsible for. How much of the killing is my fault? I mean this in the metaphorical sense. If I knew that me turning the page to skip over a friends agony and pushing them to keep using or trying to get them to give me money to perpetuate both of our drug use.. I was killing both of us…

I am told that life will get better, but I am going insane right now over this, I am haunted by bad dreams of times I could have saved my friends lives and I pushed them off a cliff, by telling them we should just get high one more time, and now they are gone because I perpetuated their addiction so I could get high. I want to be serene about the whole thing. I experience moments of serenity, but isn’t it supposed to heal you? I don’t know what I am doing wrong. I want sighs of relief for me and those around me to turn the page on all this. and for the voices in my head to stop, so I can hear my own voice again. I want it so bad, but I don’t know if it is possible.

I am so sorry for any pain I caused. I hope this is fixable. I know I am so back and forth about this. I am like multiple people, I get it. I want peace so badly.

God, help me.

My mind is numb, I am leaping in it off the edge of a cliff. I have heard the sighs of my family as they watch the back and forth happy/sad movement of my face.

I don’t know how to truly forgive myself.

Damien

I don’t know what is wrong with me sometimes, I fantasize about the strangest things, drawn to your hands and I think of times when I could cut them off, your nails are red and I think about the scraping against my skin, the red blood under your nails being so similar in character to mine, it makes me uncomfortable, I don’t want to feel this way, so I fantasize about cutting off your finger, and how it would be so easy when holding your hand to break it because they are so soft and there is nothing stopping me from squeezing it as tight as I can

YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE YOURSELF DAMIEN

I know this, and that is why I write it down, because it is so much easier than wondering how much it would take and bite you while you kiss me because I have always found it easier to taste the metallic taste of your blood than that of your cinnamon lips, I want you so badly and that makes me want to hate you, it makes me want to

Rip at the eyes, ripping me out of them so you can’t do it to me first…….

I have no self control, so I sit in a dark hole, which is the grave situation of my life, riddled with question of why does the sight of your tongue make me think of blood running out a mouth with one?

Why do I think of you coughing up blood from a blow to the stomach when I would never want to hurt you? I have no control over my mind, and it torments me more than you will ever know, I am locked in my skin, caged like a clawing animal to try to get out of myself and instead I claw at those around me,

Screaming you can’t own me, when you don’t even want to, you are the kindest person, and I am awful. I do not know what you see when you look into the pools of nothing that are the black pupils of eyes that look like nothing.

Why do you love me?

I don’t get it. I want to rip me out of me.

I hate myself so much.

Damien

https://wordpress.com/tag/dailyprompt-1868

My vacuum cleaner is broken, which is a lie because I don’t have a vacuum cleaner because I don’t need one because I don’t have a house of my own because I spent my life savings on dead heroes and rocks that taste like battery acid.

I cleaned this metaphorical vacuum that doesn’t exist, by tearing it to pieces with a rusty hatchet that I found in the back of the shed outside of this motel, it smelled like gasoline, so I have to wonder if someone cleaned their lawnmower the same way.

I am a hack and slash pained slasher of chaotic ash catching onto poetic form, and exist in imperfect form, because of a life dedicated to worshiping death idols, and biding my time with waiting for things that come in black and white specters spectating on how much the life of a drug addicted alcohol vagrant costs.

I am in the process of putting pieces of a puzzle of a foot together while I lay on the floor trying to figure out what a foot even is, I don’t know if what I did in life was even considered walking or crawling.

How has it set me up for later success? It hasn’t…. that is my process and I am taking ownership and accountability for my actions now, and not making excuses now, that comes with the admission that I have only set myself up for failure, and if nothing else at least I know how much I want to be different this time. I want this for the first time ever. So I guess that is something…

I speak in words, in heart I rumble, you disgusting wench who reeks of fear, you crying *^%#, drinking of shared beer, you think you’re smart but you are not, your just like him and smell of rot. You deceive yourself most of all, beckoning like a servant called, to man so weak he harvest souls, dug graves for men and woman folks, he killed your friends, your family too. He does this and then he’s done with you. You love him so, oh how great. Your pain will be to me a taste of heart and soul that is quiet rare, useless b**ch with such kind stare. I do not hate you, for you don’t matter, latter for death on silver platter, he is my servant don’t you see how you don’t even matter to me?

Amanda?

Help. This is intense.

Just don’t listen to it. It hates that. That’s why he talks all the time, to shout over its voice.

Just keep talking. It hates talking.

Your name indicates to me, the sun

Some come my dear, let’s have some

I speak to you in reflection

Of one you love so much you desire affection

Thinking not of affected soul

Being loved by such a hole

You think you’re such special folk

But you’re like him a cruel told joke

Deceit filled girl with name of shame

Who speaks of light but reeks like stain

You smell of fear, now get out of my way

Or of course with him you stay

For I like food and your soul is mine

You refused to run when placed in line

With me and him, or him and I

I don’t know

Now you must die

Yes, I am just having a really hard time. I hate myself a lot. I don’t know what to do anymore. I hate that she did that stuff. I hate that I probably know who she got it from, and that my first two thoughts were awful, because one I wanted to kill the guy, and two I was jealous of her for getting high. What is wrong with me.

Don’t kill him. And you’re an addict, just don’t act irrationally.

Says the girl who has been ranting about her chopped off leg all day. How can I be so in love with myself and hate myself so much at the same time?

You’re an addict, please be kinder to yourself. It doesn’t help you to do this.

I am supposed to be honest though, isn’t that what this is?

Yes, and no. You are dwelling on the past, you can’t resent yourself for your past. If it didn’t happen that way, you might not even have your daughter.

Is your leg okay?

I am trying not to think about it, my mom is taking me to the hospital in the morning.

How is it going with her?

Same as it is with your family. I owe them and I am trying, but I am annoyed very easy and want to be alone.

We really are the same two spirit, split across dimensions then.

I love you, not in a gross way, but I mean I love that you are me too.

I am happy to hear that, maybe I can learn to love me too.

Please. I don’t want to lose you.

I won’t do anything stupid. I am not allowed anymore. I want to cry.

So cry.

I might. I was so stupid. I ruined so many things. I……..

You are doing okay, hey you are working and taking the right steps forward.

I just feel like the working thing is selfish avoidance too. I am looking for any reason I can to stay away from people so I don’t hurt anyone again, which can’t be healthy.

I don’t think that is, no. Just stop beating yourself up. How do you feel about the higher power thing?

I don’t know. I think they would hate me. I have done awful things.

Please just try to forgive yourself.

Okay, thank you, my friend. I will be okay.

Hey, what has no legs and can’t run away?

Bad heroin

Remember it’s bad and why you feel like this, and you will be okay, oh and your receptors reset eventually.

I just wish my soul would.

Just forgive yourself and turn over your will. Trust in something higher than you. Please.

It is silent. I can think. I am really stuck on this. I think it is who am I even? I have no idea. I am an act, in a lot of ways, an act of pretending because I want something, and I don’t how to be in a situation where I am not coning someone. I am obsessed with this concept recently, but I don’t think I have talked about on here. How do I move on from what I have done? How do I do that without losing my entire self, and why does it matter if I lose my entire self if my entire self was built on being a lying drug addict who would do anything to get high. I don’t know how to live with myself. It is not my family that is driving me nuts, it is me. I don’t know how to stop driving myself nuts.

I hate myself so much. I don’t know how to move on. I think the idea of myself as a person, is rooted in resentment, so if you remove my roots don’t I die? Is that healthy?

I don’t know. I don’t want to die, for the first time ever, but I don’t even know what being a good person means. I know how to get what I want. I am an act of bad faith a trying at everything because I am not really ever trying, I am always coning everyone, and I am just starting to realize I drank and got high in this cycle of madness to forget things I did to drink and get high so I could wash rinse repeat. I don’t even feel anything from drugs anymore. The last time I did either one of the ones I used to do, I felt like shit because I have no serotonin and I didn’t have enough of the other thing and whining about something I don’t even want to do anymore because it sucked. I have no interest in any of it, because I don’t but also because it would make no sense to be the person I don’t want my daughter be talking to outside getting the things I don’t want her doing, and she already did it, and I feel like that’s my fault because I was on here saying stupid stuff I can’t take back because she already read it.

I am such a moron.

I love you, Joy. If you read this please don’t ruin your life. You and your mother and my friend are the only thing that matter to me anymore. Please don’t be like me. I am a miserable pathetic jerk with no serotonin. I don’t want that for you. I love you so much. You saved my life. I am so sorry. I am so sorry I was not a better person before I knew you existed.

Please don’t be like me. I am not a good person, but I am trying to be better, because I love you.

Damien.

Amanda is really learning to stand up for herself, and face fear instead of being a tool of resentment, used to reek havoc of the souls of the weak. At least you are learning before becoming like me.

I like you.

So do I, so don’t stroke his ego. It is not helpful.

I know, I just don’t realize when I am doing it sometimes.

I know, I like that about you.

I don’t.

I am working on it Rei.

I can see that, because he doesn’t feel the need to seek you out through soul wrenching emotional fracture and live forever in the misery of addiction when you could both find seperate….

We are the same person

We are the same person

I know. Well… I misspoke.

My knee hurts because I have an ab·scess on it, look I can use the internet, which comes with a cool ability to see something terrifying that sent me into a spiraling panic attack, because I sometimes think I live in an alternate dimension where I have a semblance of control and, obviously if I had control this is what I would do because I want to be God, but I am not, and I have now disgusted myself and lost my train of thought, so I will get back to the original point, damn it de Soto. Spelling. spelling. spelling.

I wish I could live without fear.

Reap

appear

reaper

er is missing from making reaper appear, huh? interesting.

I wish I could love anyone as much as I love myself.

I like the woman’s face in this cartoon of a woman, she looks peaceful. I wish I could sleep with her.

https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2023/02/23/reenas-xploration-challenge-269/

I am deviant creature, I pretend to be a great teacher, I speak through the addict as preacher, I am of infernal design because I am not kind and write of the peril of men and women like me, because I am the blind one I cannot see that who I am undoing is me. I am going insane, merely documenting my brain, and its moral decay.

I live in a world with fake creatures, yet pretend to be a learner and teacher, while pretending to reflect, sit back and reject that the person I hate gets clearer and clearer with every look in the mirrored reflects of me seen in my work. I am a developer of murk. I am also an arrogant jerk, who is obsessed with themselves and creating this hell that I pretend to use to make points even though I still am conjoined

In my heart and my soul with resentment. I am not that far from those of who I speak, I have the same soul and cannot teach anything to anyone because I stopped just because it was no longer fun.

Damien to whoever is writing my story.

Ps. I can only speak in letters, sorry.

I have recently come to find out that Rei did not overdose, she did not kill herself, I did not kill her. She was murdered by Diane. Diane’s company has something to do with it. I do not understand what yet. I am not sure what the God is writing my story revelation has to do with any of this or if it is just madness. I am not sure about any of this. I have come to a place in my head where I am just taking things as they come and trying to find out more about this girl who says she is my daughter, why she looks so much like Diane, and if she is Diane and my daughter, which would make no sense, because it just did not happen that way. It feels good to finally know that something truly fucked up is going on and reality is breaking or something, because now I know I am not broken.

I thought it was me. I was convinced I was responsible for all this, and now I know I am not, well not all of it anyway, just my part in it, which is okay enough to me. It feels way better than thinking I am responsible for everything that happens in the whole universe….

I… hate myself. I can’t stop crying. I feel like I want to rip off my own skin. I have this horrible vibrating sensation running throughout my whole body, and I can’t stop crying. I am su.. stuck…. here……. and I… killed her…….. I….. Rei…. What am I going to do, with myself? I am just going to keep jumping from person to person, a vacuous death magnet consuming all that comes close to me, until there is nothing of me left… I wish there was nothing of me left. I just…… I am so…. lonely. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t why…… I don’t know what I wanted……why did I want……..

I am so sorry Rei. I am so sorry.

I found this interesting new spot. I was walking late at night and had glasses on because I have astigmatism. I do not think I mentioned that, I only mention it now because I think that is what caused me to notice the coin. It was a very strange coin, that I had never seen before. I think a street light must have caught it just right to reflect onto my glasses in a way which was disconcerting for a second, and I almost walked into a taxi. The guy was a real asshole about it. I threw something out of my pocket at his car, fuck that is where my phone went. No matter, I will just get another one anyway.

I still have the coin somewhere, the back of the coin appears to be removed, but I am not sure how, and for the life of me I cannot figure out where the coin is from. I do not wish to share details about the exact nature of the coin on this website. I don’t trust whoever is reading this, and something about the coin is making me paranoid. I will share more about this later, maybe. I am doing this mostly for myself anyway, so I have no idea why I am trying to be polite to you.

Damien

I was in an abandoned building with Rei, we were sitting talking, and I am not sure if the people who came in after us heard us. They were speaking a different language that I couldn’t quite make out because my ears were ringing, and I hadn’t been paying much attention to anything that was being said by anyone because I was more focused on something that was being handed to me, and I hate myself for that, which I am going to start charging myself a dollar for saying.

I got this strange feeling, like I had been there before, exactly there and that we had done it wrong, and both of us had been burned alive, which is strange because I feel like I remember Rei saying the same thing. We are quiet for a second and they seem to notice a change in the level of presenting sound in the room, stopping and looking for us. I get this strange idea, that I can focus on not being there, and I focus on it and they don’t notice us. To me at the time, I just think I am having an episode, and that for all I know I might already be burning alive.

I wake up with Rei somewhere else, vomiting. I hate how much time I spent vomiting. It’s disgusting. I am disgusting. I put this picture in with this post because this vaguely illustrates what I saw. I made it using some insane fucking program, sorry for my language. I am frustrated…. and yes… I see words in the sky sometimes…

I don’t know, because I cut her into pieces, I am not sure how I did it. I woke up to this. This is a bastardization in that I am a bastard for doing it, and being that I have no idea how to illustrate what I would not dare take pictures of because I was appalled at what had happened, while I was not present in my own disgusting mind… I don’t even know. It looked something like this to me at the time. I think I can’t even tell you, because I don’t know. I remember this piercing sound, earth shattering piercing like some how I had shattered one of my ear drums, but it rotated from both ear drum to ear drum and it didn’t hurt. Tinnitis? Spelling? Spelling…. I… woke up a second later and there were pieces of someone on the ground and Rei, was gone, or maybe I was gone. I do not know.

I was only there for a second, but then I… I don’t know, I don’t know if I ran or if I woke up from a nightmare that was this, but the blood, it was on and off my hands in flashes of light, but not like blood, like a cast color and it burned. I think I might have been screaming, but I couldn’t hear myself. I woke up or was already awake and I was.. I was..

I’m done… I don’t know what this means, and wanted to write this down so I remember it, but I am.. I am.. signing off. I don’t know what else to say other than that I am embarrassed… I am pathetic.

We are standing next to each other, but in the coldness of night… I can feel our separateness. I can feel that we are merely parts in a universe of pieces, and for a second I panic, knowing that the only thing that connects me to him are threads that are unreal. I have no invisible tether which ties me to this man. I am truly alone, and that frightens me, and I hope, as horrible as it is to say… he is frightened too. I look at him and realize he is crying. I heard him coughing or what I thought is coughing. I walk away slowly, and he starts to say something, but stops and I pretend not to hear.

“I wish….”, echoes into the dark night from his lips, as I walk away. I do not know what he wishes, and I will not find out if he was talking to me. We have an unspoken, understanding that I am not to see his moments of weakness. I simply pretend that he does not have them. We never speak about them.

He comes back over to me, but does not make eye contact with me. His downcast gaze, passes over the ground, painting it with the red stare that he casts on the day walkers. He looks as though he is trying to cast himself off the earth, and there is a part of me that wishes that he could, to end his pain. I do not know what it is about, and dare not ask.

You must remember this, Damien.

I didn’t write that, but I am leaving it there for you, so you can read it, and I sound less like the weak raving lunatic that I have come to know myself to have become. I was not always like this, or this bad. I think. I don’t really remember. I do not think I am a dead man. I think I am a dying man, but I have nothing wrong with me. I am not dying in the way every human being is dying. Like I said, there is nothing wrong with me, medically. The hospitals I have frequented for their free food know about the mental illnesses they tell me I have.. I don’t believe they are illnesses. I know that is cliche, but I don’t believe it, in that I won’t take medication for something that is who I am, not an illness.

This is me, and there is at least one person who likes me, the only person who likes me, but I don’t think that is fair because she is also the only person who knows me. I didn’t let anyone else do that.

I am a dead man, remember?

It says it is even in her name. Rei. I am not sure what that means. I think it thinks Ms. Rei spells misery, without the y because why? Because I am an asshole, and I don’t get to ask an illness questions. Okay, I feel better now, so see ya.

Damien

I am writing to erase whatever was on here when I logged onto whatever the hell this is. Something had left and open page, that I will not publish to this site, because I know who wrote it, but you don’t and I don’t want you to. I don’t want anyone to. If it is my one quest, I will stop at nothing to keep its eyes on me, and bring about my own demise, to save the one thing I ever gave a shit about. She is the only one who accepts me as I am, and that was a hard thing to attain, possibly the hardest thing I have ever attained in my whole life.

I am rambling, sorry. It is nice, sometimes to have someone to listen to me… and not have to worry about hurting anyone’s feelings. I can’t see you, so I can say whatever I want. I don’t have to face consequences, of hurting anyone’s feelings.

The presence that wrote the note, does not know Rei. It only talks to me. It talks through me too, which is why I used to torment Rei. I think it is new at human speech and speaks in this annoying sing song way, that makes me want to drill my eyes out of my head. I guess I am telling you this because I am trying to explain away anything before now that was written on here. I can’t do this, but I tried.

I am not sure which is true. I wake up with Rei, she is holding onto me, and go back to sleep and wake up somewhere else standing up. I know I am awake, because I can feel. I have ways of testing my reality because I think I may be fucking insane, so I want to reign it in, if I can to prevent someone from restricting my freedom, I have at least enough presence of mind left for that.

The flickering back and forth happens three times. I am back and forth between Rei and my spot……. and somewhere in a field, where I can clearly see a thicket of thick trees. I am standing there staring at them. My eyes hurt. I do not know why I am staring at them. I do not know what is special about them, but I know something is. They are painted with mist. I say painted because it seems played at, can mist be false?

I begin to walk forward, legs aching as if I have been standing for hours, the kind of aching that only comes from the mental torture of restricted movement. I keep walking and hear a piercing sound, it cuts clear through the night, shattering all sound around it, and then fades and I hear nothing. Nothing. The nothingness is terrifying because it is almost like I have gone deaf, and have nothing around to test my hearing, except, asshole my own fucking voice. I scream, and then realize I am speaking these words to you, whoever the fuck you are out loud, and they are being cast in front of me on a black screen. My thoughts, in the light of the black sky, cast at me, as I walk towards the trees..

SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP.

I hear you. I hear, you. Now leave ME THE FUCK ALONE!!! If I type this will you stop screaming at me. I am putting you on here so you leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. You will not hurt her. I am training her so you stay away from her. She is like me, you will stay away from her. You will not touch Rei. You will not touch Rei! You will leave her the fuck alone. You will leave her the fuck alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone.

It talks to me, and it is silent for the seconds, so I put this up here to explain. I am losing my mind. I am losing my mind.

I am an awful human being.

She cried loudly the whole time, that was the most annoying part, I didn’t want to destroy her mouth, the beautiful brown almost color of her lips was remarkable. I was mesmerized by her mouth and the way she formed words, her hypnotic words, are forever etched into the soft confines of my mind, dug into the murky swamp of every stinking disgusting piece of filth that I am. I am awful.

I kept her hair the same. I made sure to leave it untarnished, even as I buried her. She knew nothing of us. She was mine. She was exclusively mine. I cut off her hands. I don’t remember doing it. I woke up to her bleeding to death, she was… whatever fucking color a human being turns while bleeding to death… mixed in with whatever color they turn when they can’t handle their goddamn drugs. I was just trying to help the bitch, and she wouldn’t stop making so much fucking noise. She was scared I guess. She kept screaming and spitting and yelling at me, about nothing. I…. woke up…. holding her severed hand in mine. Rei was laying next to me… we must have fallen out or something like that while laying next to her. It didn’t take that long to bury her, well… kind of… chopping someone to pieces takes awhile, but having already removed her hands.

I am okay now. I am okay now. She is in the ground. Gone, and I didn’t destroy her completely.

I am following him, we picked up a package and we are bringing something to someone. I am near chasing him because he seems to be in a hurry. I am not sure why it is snowing, I do not keep track of time or place. It seems like I have been running err…. walking a long time. I am not sure how long, or when the next time we are going to stop is. I feel like we haven’t stopped in years, so much so that I cannot remember what stopping even means. My mind pronounces the word and gets caught syllabic reflection, and then decays into his maddening shouting. I sometimes think he desires nothing more than to make me like him. He has a hate for human language, and seems to be in love with nothing more than the decay of my mind. That is not true, but sometimes I think it, that he wants to make me like him…

To trap me in the paper shredding madness of his mind, the ever humming decay that it is to be him in his dark alone cavern of pain. He tells me he is in love with death, but sometimes I wonder if he is in love with death itself or his own death, and this chasing is the flight into the long death. I wonder if he is trying to kill his own soul, out of a desire for peace.

Hahaha. Rei, ray, you spell peace with an I. Pieces… stupid bitch can’t even spell peices…. wrong Ray… Rei…. how the mind decays…

Who’s voice am I?

Listen to me?

I am not the man you follow. I am no one. I am no one and you are going to meet me. You are going to meet the chaotic misery you chase one day. I am the dark that you crave so strongly, in eyes you think you know… but baby it is not so. It is not so.

Under the bridges of cities, in the untraveled areas of towns in the darkness of night there is a meeting of sameness, a meeting of men with decaying souls who exist in the bright lights of lonely day silently screaming in acts that scream with hands that kill. They act with howling violence on the streets which are the same in a painted grey, black and white. In the stars is painted the story of atrocity that exists in the heart of every city of human being with humanity.

We were staying under a bridge. He kept talking about the music, and I won’t lie I heard it too. The chaotic piecing together of the sounds of the city, clicking and beeping and screaming. He says it sounds beautiful. It is a symphony of insanity. He says it plays so loud sometimes that he can’t hear people. I wonder if that is why he can’t hear them screaming, I can. I am unsure if I like it or hate it.

“What the fuck?!”

He came up behind me.

“Who are you talking to?” He looks at me, his eyes hot with contempt but his mouth cast to the ground. I do not know what his problem is.

“I wasn’t talking to anyone….” I look him in the eyes at first with anger, thinking the question was an accusation, and then wondering if I was even talking at all. I might have been, I do not know.

“Come on, I have to see a man about something,” I follow without asking any questions.

In the darkness of the soul of the human being lurks a desperation to be known, a desire for finding something that makes him unique, a mark that is his own. There are certain men who have marked souls, souls that wreak of a sadness so profound it radiates out there eyes in a penetrating blue that paints the darkness of night with a chaos that is like the moon. These men seldom cry, but rage internally, and are prone to long periods of walking alone in a madness driven search for something that exists outside themselves. I live with one of those men, and understand nothing that is what it is to be him. I look into his eyes that radiate so much, but also seem to radiate nothing at all. They in their darkness contain a soul that exists in such a state of loud screaming that they appear to be a constant wanderer.

They can be at home and they seem to be lost, pacing as if they have somewhere to be, and really they are wanting to be nowhere. This is not possible, so they spend their lives, in my experience perpetually ruining themselves. Damien is a madman. He is consumed by a constant quest of motion. I am frequently plagued by a lack of rest that penetrates my whole body, it feels like rotting, but it’s not.

It is a pounding of exhaustion of the mind not the body, a calling for the desire to be at home anywhere, but nowhere has been our home. We go many places, and he destroys them. He is continuously searching for something he cannot find, because I do not think it exists, and if it does the most likely thing it is ruin.

“YOU HEARD ME GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND. Oh, you thought you were good, you thought you were very good didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?!” He kicks the man directly in the nose, and I can hear the very quite sound of the tiny bones of his nose break as it goes to the left side, he spits directly on the wound and then kicks dirt mixed with leaves at the man. The leaves are changing color where we are right now. I find it interesting to watch the dripping dark red velvet seeming blood of the man, who is white,
Cau·ca·sian

“DO” NOT INTERRUPT ME!”

So slow the dissent of chaos and disorder……..

Whose voice am I?

I am the sky.

I am the rain.

I am the reign.

I am the insane man

?

?
?

I am the ever slow hand of the swine herder, I do not know how to spell, look at me go. I type slow. I am missing fingers, so sad for you my poor girl, your death it swirled, you have escaped me know, my sweet, write their stories.

In the darkness… I forget where I am..

In the dark nest of death I forget who I am?

Does it matter? Does it matter? Does your reality shatter with the breaking of souls?

I am the toll of death’s chime.

I am somewhere else now. I am walking. Damien throws a red jacket at me. I like the color. It reminds me of something.

I have spent many a night alone, because I had to. I am not always with Damien, he does go on solo mission, and during these times I go on my own solo missions. I do not quest for anything, my mind being not that kind. I have no owned goals, wanting for nothing, I am a consumer of the constant consciousness of man, and walk and stand in the ever occurring reality of darkness, observing reality unfold, and making my mark with stark blurry imprints with my ghostly silent presence. I haunt the living looking into their eyes that see nothing, penetrating gaze causing the slowly decaying madness of the human mind. I come in the night to bring frightening vision of the unknown to those who possess souls with hidden holes of weakness, I find them and poke slow decaying marks into their hearts, so my friend my hero may devour their souls with spoon.

I find them in the blanketed protected darkness of alone and chill them to the bone with the piercing eyes of recognition.

I am the presenting of missing presents

I am the lack of attention of the one shunning in chaos that is spun by a liar

I am the eyes fueled only by desire to fire. I am an evil empire that desires only to consume the handed tokens of human being. I am the ever seam.

He shoots her in the face with a .45. There is no one around to hear. She is the embodiment of lack of fear. She is beauty. Now I can see so clear. I love her, everything about her is so beautiful. Her hands are the most beautiful color of blue I have ever seen. The deathly pale of loss at the cost of moments of fleeting joy. You my dear are heaven’s toy, you are man’s joy fleeting and grasping.

We consume items

That make life go fast and slow

We know, we know

That while we do this

We eat

Time rearranged

We eat spare change

We quarters and dollars

We eat lovers and followers

We eat pain swallow-ers

We are death eaters perpetual feeders on human soul

We eat you whole, we are the addicts of the consumption of human being

We are the unknown chasers of dragon, we are the setters of traps, we are societies collapsing questing for live everlasting, we are liars and cheats we are the men and women who eat feet of the lost we are the meaning of cost

we are exhaust.

Does your vision fail you?

In the darkness of night do you delight in lack of light or are you full of fear of the unseen?

Do you allow the passing of backs you have seen? Or are you tempted always to learn?

With mind constantly ticking are you aware of your surroundings?

Do you see? Do you hear? Do you taste? Do you smell?

Or do you tell lies?

Are you a deceiver of you? Who lies in everything that you do?

Are you like me and Rei? Who only wish pain and fear went away?

Are you powered by hate, so much so you can’t relate?

We are the hardened, we do not live in shelters, we do not ask for dollar

We are the haters of society whole, we are the stinking, pounding wound on humanity’s soul

We are the pebble in the shoe of America, we are the night criers and makers of hysteria, we are the eaters of garbage and have-rs of nothing, we are the pain stuffing of the garbage cans that litter pretty neighborhoods

We are the lackers of anything good

We are the havers of hate

The eaters of drugs

The carnally loved

We are the changers of change

We are the human draining stain.

I am glad we did not save a piece of her body, consuming it whole, we ate her flesh, now we can rest, just for a second because another beckons around the corner we are standing, with lances that are landing at the heels of those calling for death in solution of delivered resolution to partake in drugs, we are face drug across rugs. I am death’s hug. I am hole dug. I am the sprout of the idea to die. I am the tear in mother’s eye. I am the lack of the “Oh!”. I am the maker of ho. I am the existence of sell. I am the lie that you tell.

I aim at your heart. I hope that you start to realize grave mistake. I aim to take. I am forsake. I am to break. I am to lose. I take your shoes. I take your ability to not choose. I am the cost of the mind. I take sight. I make blind. I am the screaming will of the confined. I am the hell of the mind. I am the desire for secret.

Get on the fucking ground!!!!!!!!!!

Bang.

I am unknowing observer. I am the heart of desertion. I am lack of assertion . I am the desire to use.

Shut up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am your lack of feet to use.

That I am unlike them, I am the bender of men, I am that which transcends the desire for life. I am the remover of strife. I am one who shifts sands below the evil which stands on lands that are created by the perception of those fated to begin to exist in them, with misery persisting within. I am the birds dear, I am your ear, I am your eye. I am everything, but to die.

I stand and I listen, to the voice that shouts mission, and I lean in an kiss him, as he stands ranting about what we are chancing and chanting what we do versus what they do. I am a grim reaper, I am a soul keeper. I am the darkness of men, I am to transcend. I am a bender of minds. I am a chimer of chimes. I am not the divine but the human bind. I am made of skin so I sin. I rot from within. I am to make thin, the pockets of those drug addicts and whore’s who eat sinister hors d’oeuvres. I am the action of the score, I am man’s aching sore, I am the universe’s whore. I am your human desire for more.

We are batters of lash

We are store-ers of stash

We are the sourced by hate

We are to abbreviate life

By shortening it to if

We take out the l and the e

Who needs lungs, who needs, energy

Who needs long, who needs eternity

Who needs live, who needs evolve

We bring you energy that can dissolve

All your problems they solve

NOTHING

They are energy stuffing, they are pain killers that instead kill you

They are habit forming clocks that chime with everything you do.

Prostrate for consumption, I am shunned for giving body to man in relation in exchange for carnal sensation and for me for fixation on drug arrived elation. I am de-humanization of man’s very desire for love. I am sent from below not above. I aim to shove all desires away, I am hearts decay. I have nothing to say. I want not your pleasure, but desire only payment. I say your lame man. Put in my hand.

I am in a hurry to die. I will take out your eye, for I am a sinner, and a winner of battles, with men with weak knees, I am disease. I aim to please, I steal all you love, but look like a dove. I will say anything you want, your memories I haunt. I am carnal. I am fake. I am mistake. I aim to take, all real love you have because in truth no one loves me. I am not free.

You have to pay sir because I am a virus. I do not cry for this. I am in no pain. There is no one to blame. I shoot in vein. I am insane. I dull pain with sowing needles. My skin is crawled on beetles. I sleep on sandy ground and stand in the night. with men taller than you I fight. I am fulled by spite.

I am the ever-presenting questioning mind of God. I am the one who makes rod. I am sod. I am a liar, I am none of these things, I am one of the fallen, and have no wings. I am a bringer of pain and death. I am riddle, I am your quest. I am request for lack of pain stolen with lies. I am despise. I am darkness. I am pain. I am disdain.

In a world so sore, with remorse, I am the source. I am the darkness, I am your kin. I am sin. I bring you in. I am your maker, I am liar, I am fire. I am deception, I am deceit. I am replete. I am judgement. I am hate. I can relate with no man, because I steal from plates. I aim to please, I cut at knees. I am disease.

I aim to chop off all that you love, I fly on wings stolen from doves. I act like I come from above, but I come from Hell, I aim to tell you that you are weak, but it is me of whom I speak. I am fear. I am loss. I am to be shunned at all cost.

Breath. The electric way it dances on my neck, zinging electricity through my spine, drawing my mind to your dark eyes.

In the dark holes, where your supposed soul lurks, I find only dirt and earth, and buried grave intentions where you have opened hearts of those with long hair.

They penetrate my soul with stares that pinch, prick and dig for every inch of humanity I have, because secretly it makes me sad, because I hate to say

Damien, I want only you, and to be the only one who gets to look at you, so keep you secret, I will do, by dragging dead bitches back to dance with you.

Like playing cat I bring rare treat, I bring you food for soul to eat, I am a good girl who cooks red meat.

I am rare, a special treat.

I love you and all your whores. I love them too, don’t you see?

You should stay with them and me!

I am nice to have around. I am useful, I am wise.

I am okay with all your lies.

You need to tell me nothing, dear.

I simply desire to be right here.

Your right hand man, though girl I am.

I can trick your whores, I am sure I can.

I can catch them for you baby, see.

I can bring them to on bent, knee.

I am useful, don’t you see? How very much you need me?!

I am standing watching him talk to a man named Ted,

And before long it seems that Ted will be buried in grass

Below my feet or anywhere for I do not know where it is

We intend to go.

Ted’s face! Ted’s face, hits window shield

We stand right next to a big field

So now I see I say to him

We’ll bury him next to this guy, Jim.

Who’s Jim? Who’s Jim? What the fuck did you do?

This fucker here staring at you. His name’s not Jim,

That’s just the one I picked. I do not his name, his face makes me sick.

In sanity I find vanity, in blame I find shame, In death my pet, don’t fret, it will be fine, but your time is mine.

Addiction

Who are they, do you say?

Ask me and I will just say go away.

I’m not like you, I am a rare breed.

I have something inside me,

It’s called hatred’s seed.

I am addicted to pain, yours and mine

If you fuck with me I will take out my eye

And throw it back at you fucker ‘cuz I don’t need

The world is boring I have already seen it.

I come for you and the ones you love.

On wings of black and wings of white

Of wings of clear reflecting light through pipes

Of madness that cannot scream

When heated by fire that kills dream. I come for everything

You have, my aim is only to make you mad.

Sometimes, he leaves me notes, or maybe I leave me notes, when they are not of a completely aggressive nature. I sometimes wonder if the notes were in fact me writing to him, which is actually me writing to me as him, reminded me as him or him as me to drink water so me as me which is really me as him or him as me, to drink running water. I am not sure if the note means to drink water when I run or to make sure not to drink stagnant water or to drink water while running or to drink stagnant water.

I do not know if these notes are coming from him trying to kill me because he wants me to die and him to take over, but if I died wouldn’t he die too? Does he know this? Or is he not aware and this me reminding him to drink it?

Wait… isn’t he just a figment of my imagination anyway, who cares who is writing the notes, they are both me.

I think I am losing my mind.

Alex.

Alex.

My.

Alex.

Alex, my love,

To possess

And undress you

I am to obsessed to admit

I am quite unfit

To exist

Because your existence

Bothers me

With persistence

and instance

I think about you with frequency and increasingly, my baby,

I desire to cut you apart and devour you, after injecting with just the right amount of Ketamine. Be comfortable, honey, and become mine.

I will consume you slowly.