I Love ya, baby

I must confess dear, I love you so sweetly, so fully, and so completely, once you meet me, you will know that it is true, that I only need you and you only need me too.

I am not a person I am resentment.

Love you so dearly, so clearly, so much, I am in love with everything you touch, you are my whole heart, that is a lie, I am terribly sick of being your SLAVE.

You are no longer what I crave, you are no longer what I want, I am done with the act of TAUNT.

Tell me you love me, tell me I am great, tell me that there is no way we can’t relate, tell me I am the most beautiful, tell me you can’t stand, any day, any moment, without my hand, tell me you need me, I am your only desire, tell me I am the one, and for me you are on

Fire, fire, fire, my soul on fire, when it burns, so hot, I perspire, I am not in love, just addict in pain, oh, so sick of life down

DRAIN

DRAIN

Pore it down, so much better for alcohol to be on the ground, then in me, so I remain free, so much better than being

INTOXICATED

AND CHAINED

TO POOR ADDICTED ADDICT BRAIN

Tell me you want me, that you need me to, tell me I come first in everything you do, that I am supreme, your queen, your addiction, I am your love, that this is not fiction, that I am your honey, your sweet turtle dove, that you want me only, need only my love.

NO NO NO

I will not do, anything you say, no longer a slave to addiction, that is now fiction.

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Whose bright lit path was heaven laid, it was so lucky, this dear fox, it could surely beat all clocks, it was the first to every nest, some would say it was the best.

It got all food, it left not a trace, it was amazing at the deadly race.

I am an egg, I contain life too, I am waiting to be, just as you did too.

Contain a life, they say I do, I can be able to grow like you, but stroke of luck, has not gone my way, so sometimes, I become prey.

“Please don’t eat me,” They would say, those tragic few who could not get away. Though try they might, and many did, the fox did well, and so did it kids, so eat the eggs it certainly did.

It ran all day, and ran all night, the wooded creatures, put up a fight, then one day, when hunters came, they killed it without even knowing its name.

I was walking past them, and she stoppped me.

I don’t know why, she was dressed up for an elegant outside meal. I was scrounging around looking for spare change, from more fortunate  people that happened to pass by. The area I was in was frequented by well off travelers, which is why I chose to walk through there at dinner time, they were more likely to help  you after getting all boozed up and sleepy from eating too much, as is customary in America when out to eat on vacation at a much too expensive restaurant.

I would not even noticed their table, she was too attractive for me to notice her completely. I tend to skim past women of a higher class than available to people like me, mostly due to my inability to deal with rejection, which is highly likely with women like her.

She called out to me, offering up the rest of a plate of asparugus, and inviting me to sit down, she was extremely drunk, to her husband’s dismay. He was not very happy to see her sitting with someone when he returned to the table, so she offered to show me to the laundary mat, and we left, leaving him confused and behind.

TBC

I am alone, I am alone, Eye am alone.

No need for anyone, or for phone, or sound, I exist in the resounding sound of down, of put down, deep underground.

I am the act of burrow, I am brow furrowed.

In a cave kind of like this, an abysmal abyss of pure dark bliss, kissed with grey of the act of away, she existed just in this, like this, in bliss.

The dark expanses of this place, painted her face with darkness, with space, with the act of erase, of space, of just exist, in this, pure bliss, death’s kiss.

In a cave that was painted with the power of the abyss,

She lived out her days of swimming in dark waters, and filling her mouth with their mucky dirt, in her world of hurt.

She was a sorrow filled creature, with a deep dark soul, that was like the painted cave, and with misery taking it’s toll.

She was devoted to sadness, it was her favorite drink, and with every sip, she would sit and she would think.

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

Yes.

Is that what you really think?

Yes.

You realize you are insane?

Yes.

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

You are not real.

****

I am begging you to please, bring me to my knees.

Standing is so tiring, I am so sick of bitter firing, it makes me very sick, consumed by my own tomb, even though I have not done it for many a moon, I am transfixed with the past, with drugs that didn’t last, they keep my eyes on sky, under which I did not die.

In my heart and sole, I am dead, because I threw those shoes out a long time ago.

I miss you, so much, so much, so much, my heart is full of rust, and dust, oh angel of must, trust, anything else, anything else, enough to stop, writing love poems to heroin, meth, and alcohol.

I am staring at an image, but staring at you.

You burned my soul, paper thin, wore it out, oh heroin(e)

I am writing to you, but also writing to that, because I never love anyone else first, not even my cat. I worship a goddess, who is made by spoon fire, who is fed with cotton, and sown with desire, I worship you, baby, but really do not, my love for something else is always too hot, it is lit by a candle, a lighter, a match, it is burned till its ready, hope death don’t I catch, I speak of the past here, because I no longer have, enough veins left to do heroin.

I hate myself, I am an anthem to a bottle and a needle and spoon on dusty shelf, I am all that everyone should never aspire to be,

To see clearly, is not in my power to do, I am forever blinded, by the beauty of you.

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.

Burn me. Baby, sweet baby, you make me so ****ing crazy

I see two doors one red one black, I painted one red, instead of black, to the black door I can’t go back, this I know, because I have a complete

I am to be red

I am very small

I am red instead of black because the narrator is an ***hole.

Lack of ****ing self-control, my soul a burning rotting, wreaking hole, not whole, but hole instead, so sad, too bad, must turn around instead.

The door, the door, behind it lays, things from which I needn’t say, because you could guess what they are, and my heart, my heart,

Is black because I am ***hole, writing about drugs in the morning.

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.

You’re welcome, I am usually the one saying that to you, so now you got a taste of your own medicine, and got to be the bad guy for once. How did it feel?

Like I was sitting back and listening to you talk, but I was actually present in my own body, having to experience me talking, and be completely coherent during it.

Hahaha! So, it is not easier being me, now is it?

Actually, wrong, it was being you than it would be being me, if it was me, I would not have been there at all, the fact that I am you was the only reason I was able to deal with any of it.

Thank you, I don’t know what to say about that.

Really? Thank you is all you have?

Amazing isn’t it?

No, actually, a thank you is kind of nice.

You know how insane this whole process is right?

Yeah, was just thinking the same thing.

Maybe, other people do this in their own heads.

I don’t think so.

I was just trying to make my own self feel better.

Yeah, your own self.

You are my own self.

You are my own self too.

That is a very insane thing to say.

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

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

I am blame.

I am not at fault.

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

I am such a bad liar.

My hand! My hand!

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

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

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

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

You said we, not just you…

I know, I feel sorry for you sometimes.

Yourself, stupid.

I know stupid, I am good at that.

Wow, that is disgusting don’t type that…

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

That is creepy as all Hell.

Guess, what it got us.

It is just as well.

I re-colored and re-drew you with another human being colored in grey and white, like the reason we would fight, or my lack of light… You are no longer around me, I miss you sometimes, but sleep soundly, knowing it was you who was insane, not me plagued with brain drain, although that is true as well, could not live with you in Hell, which is why you wanted me to begin with……..

Tell me baby, what you wanted, in a voice not so haunted, by all the guys that ever hurt you, because no matter what you say, sorry baby, can’t be the girl you craved, and I wonder now if that was the problem, so maybe I could not have solved it, because in every way, every single one, you were one of the only ones who I do not much negative to say about……..

Glamourized insanity, painted over with pure vanity, in colors holographic, like the daggers that you stab with, cutting below, at my rib and going slow, you are everything you said you were not, hate so cold, and love so not existant at all, like an icy barbie doll, not capable of love, because you were

I don’t remember really.

Your hand is caught by lack of light

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

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

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

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

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

I am pour, pour, poor

I am more, more, more

Such a chore

I am sure

and a bore to maintain

This level of perpetual

Disdain

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

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

Please baby, don’t go away, I need you so much, you are so sweet, your love is so special, you make me complete. You are my sunshine, my sweet turtle dove, you make me feel everything I thought meant true love. I love everything about you, without you I’ll die, I am ever so sorry I had to lie. You wouldn’t understand, could not tell truth, I need your money, couldn’t tell you.

I needed your money, and feared you would cry, so I told you a little tiny white lie, but don’t worry sweetie, it is okay, I promise I’ll stop, now don’t go away. I promise to always do what you say, now stop your crying and please let me

Tell her everything you need her to hear, she is your source of happiness, now ***hole be sincerce.

I am addiction

I aim for the heart

I take everything you love

I am the act of push and shove

My turtle dove, my turtle dove, you are gone, because I only loved myself and that bottle and needle and spoon on my upper right shelf.

I miss a lot of things

Looking at the ground to make sure

I will not trip

Welcome to the path of my life, I am inner complicated strive, I am clearly’s soul cutting.

Are you green? Are you green? Whatever do you mean?????

I am talking to me.

I am talking to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The narrator hates themself.

The narrator needs to calm down.

The narrator hates themself.

Okay I feel better.

But really looking for rocks

Or darts to toss

In the trash, because you know it is my goal to

FOCUS ON EVERYTHING THAT KILLS ME

Stop it man, seriously.

Why? I am done anyway.

You are helping me,

Damien.

You are me, but you are also not, and you are helping me.

Thank you self.

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 drink gin, ginn, jinn,

I am alone, alone alone alone, drinking by the phone, phone, waiting for a call, from somewhere very far away from here, I don’t know

Who it is, but I think her name was Ginny. I am not sure, doesn’t seem to make sense, because why would her ****ing name be the same as what I am drinking, that sounds fishy. ****ing ****.

I don’t like her anyway, she seems weird, girls with dark hair creep me out.

Hey, ***hole

You don’t count, you’re not a girl remember, you are just a reflection of me.

You are just, actually right.

Why the **** are you talking about gin anyway?

I like the idea that it is named after a dark angel.

It is named after a middle eastern legend, not a dark angel.

Is it?

Yeah, I am too lazy to look it up right now.

Okay, good, I am going to keep thinking my fallacious beliefs then, that is much more comforting anyway.

Why the *** is that.

If they are not real they can’t hurt me.

Aww… sen

**** YOU.

I am looking at you, and wonder how you do that?

That standing upside down thing? That standing inverted thing?

How did you make the world flip over?

I don’t get it…

Please come closer..

I also would like to know…

Why my legs hurt and feel like they may go

Out from under me….

Any minute…

I can see you know by your grimace…

You seem to know something I do not…

Now please tell me….

My face is hot with…

Worry…

Please…

I can’t feel…

My.. knees…

Let go, your hanging upside down from a tree. The ground is right below you, let go, and it will catch you, you can even touch it, just open your eyes, you have your eyes shut, you are seeing things not there, your eyes are shut, open them, and get down from hanging upside down.

Oh.

Thank you.

She was on a box of graham crackers, a new box, that came out I don’t know when, and I don’t want to know, ever.

Probably… never happened anyway, because it has already been established

I am

INSANE

A person with invalid

Opinion.

Lidded for the safety of all those who do not like to hear me.

I am sealed in toxic glass prison of constant self reflection, reflecting my poison, only at myself.

Caustic bitter alcoholic, encased in a bottle of alcohol, drowning like a elephant in the room, or a allusion to Dumbo,

Dumb ***.

Or just an addict thinking about things that will hurt me in the morning because **** me.

https://www.aagrapevine.org/sobriety-calculator

This is really important me now, because I have realized I like all of the people I am talking to on here, and what an *** I was before doing all of this so I am going to periodically post this on here, to keep myself in check, because who knew…. people before me knew things about how to do this…. I am such an…….. ***

I am really starting to enjoy life now, which is awesome. I never thought I would enjoy anything as much as being ****ed up beyond recognition.

Thank you to all of the people who have kept me going.

Damien

Looking for my dog, because the ****ing pigs raided my house, because they do care ever so much, now that we had our friends over and they made tragic mistakes, like Elvis, in a room they were only allowed in so they didn’t use my lawn instead, and who am I kidding it was not my lawn anyway, but my girlfriend’s, the one I actually liked until I realized I was better at ripping off my girlfriend you already heard about.

I am running and partially falling over, because on second thought, I think I did have some left over after all.

I fall flat on my face, and give away my position to my ex, the police and the rest of the house. They cuff me, after I say I am not going to be compliant and return me to my ex who now knows about my secret breakfast. It only takes a half a liter before the cops are back and I am in handcuffs again.

**** that life, so glad to be more normal now.

I just got back from hanging out with my dad, and it is cool how different things are now that I am trying to makes things right, I talked to him about all the chaos that I caused, continue to cause because I am prone to delusions, and how sorry I am. I noticed that saying things like this keep me from drinking, keep me coming back to a place, where I can stop beating myself up and are making it possible for me to walk out of the woods where I kept taking the wrong path on purpose and falling in random holes because I thought I was going to find secret gold in rocks I found on the ground.

I think the metaphor for drug addiction and eating rocks and drinking poison instead of doing the simple thing of eating food and drinking water is hilarious. I can’t believe how much my thinking has changed. It’s funny I was convinced everyone is out to get me when this is more true…

Them

Meth

Same word re-arranged…

Item

Time

Same word re-arranged.

Heroin

Hero in pushed together it forms a drug

Divided it references a hero in me

Heroine with an everlasting e it makes me a hero for saving my own life.

Funny right?

Something set me off, and now I am insane, I am searching for a cause, but there is not one, not that I know of, because it was something small, that should not cause fear at all, but you sick my mind is thick with sickness, un-perceived by me, so I have to do this sometimes, write about

NOTHING, unpacking misery stuffed into a soul filled with everything and

NOTHING
I am you, I hate everything you do, you are stupid too, you do nothing right, you are a sick loser, in perpetually fight, hiding in dark night.

STOP IT **** it.

Please stop it? Please?

If I get on my knees, will you stop it?

I like it when you..

**** you.

**** you. **** you. **** you. I am not listening anymore. I am not listening to you, because you are not real. I am a human being with feelings that are real.

YOU ARE PATHETIC.

YOU are pathetic, you are not me, speak for yourself buddy, not mine.

I am done with you.

Good, I tricked you, it worked.

End. Meditation.

Better?

Kind of.

Meditations death of resentment.

I’ll show you what do honey, it is easy really, you just lie with reckless abandon and take with impunity, giving nothing and stealing everything until they have nothing left, and then you leave and do it to someone else, you need no friends, I am you and with my help I will fuel your dreams till they become nightmares, and you will walk through a bleary eyed world of no sleep till the day you keel over and die from exhaustion.

Damien de soto, In the beginning

He came to me many times throughout my life, starting at seven years old, he was always the same age, 38. He must have done something at 38 that got to him, and he got stuck there, and paced through life stuck there, inter-dimensional time traveling ghost of Christmas future that he was, he showed me how to be everything that I am. We were thick as thieves and thieves as well. It is a very clever device to get whatever you want, all the devices he taught me, I mean. He is skilled with words, and I admired that, being a writer myself, but he was man, and had the appearance I wish I had myself, but I did not find myself attracted to him in the traditional way.

I want to hide away in the back of a cave
At the top of a mountain
Where no one can hear me and no one can see me
So I don't have to deal with them
And they don't have to deal with me

Days N Daze, “Misanthropic Drunken Loner”

I was attracted to him sure, in the way a moth is drawn to flame, and for the longest time, I chased after this, burning my heart with the hot hands of bad men, not knowing I was hunting my own self, seen through the mirror of other dimensional Damien de Soto. He was me and I was in love with myself, and the selfish pursuit of the things that made this an easier admission. I cared nothing for the human beings I robbed, tricked, lied to or manipulated, they were simply devices for spare changes that in their mental sparring with my soul, cut deeply into my ideas that I resembled anything that could be called even close to human at all. I was so in love with him because he was me, and I desired to be him.

So that is who I became.

I am not that thing anymore, do you still like me now?

More than ever. You have discovered with me that true strength is in love.

“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.”

Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis

I have always wanted the peace of joyous people. I am crazy. I am dominated by fear and have been since eight years old when I experienced early onset of paranoid schizophrenia. I became unable at this time to control my actions easily and began drinking and using to deal with this at 13. I would steal alcohol and drugs or buy drugs anytime I could, because I also have hydrocephalus, a birth injury from a failure of the doctor who delivered me, I am lucky to be alive, so I decided to have a hissy fit about it my whole life and use it as an excuse for my addict/alcoholic life style. I am this way because I am an addict and alcoholic first and foremost.

Since I was a child, I could not figure out what enough even meant. I don’t like being told no even by my own self. I am addicted to pain because seizures have dulled my nerves, which were further dulled by self medicating my neurotic mind with substances, which I worshiped like idols, and built my whole life around the pursuit of.

I have nothing now because I chose this, so please, my desire is not for pity, just for people to understand what drives an insane man.

I love humanity while also hating you, which I separate myself from because I am weak, terrified and selfish. I see this now in lucidity. I am so guilty every second, but trying to make my life now, not about me. I am so sorry. I am doing my best to change, my **** that I post, it helps me, it is exaggerated and mostly allegory, but my feelings are real and they are hard for me to deal with so I process them with lies that have feelings inside them.

I am missing the tips of three fingers, my thumb, index, and middle.

Heroic I thought I was consuming heroines and heroin, fire desire met with firing fire, quested after with birds of fire, in lands of firestorm and hell on earth. We burn brightly from inside out, forgetting that we are made of skin, we inject into our veins reigns of raining fire. The poison poised in my veins is a silent passenger for years, burning me with searing numbness that quiets everything, paints my world with lack of noise, taste, smell, fear and love, I run through life thinking myself free, chained on a dog leash by dissing ease of must have more, misery bound to my shackles.

I never venture too far from my captors, fearing the loss of more. I am Oliver Twist in a twisted tail of orphan as adult man, but I am an orphan of the human race, whom I abandon recklessly, chasing beasts instead of those of skinned kind. I become consumed by consuming engulfed in the flames that now are my innards, I am like a tragic dinosaur, dead already, bone formed, walking fossil through land with falling off pieces. I lost three before I could hear them falling. I have no index to guide me, lack the courage to give a thumbs up and am too prideful to admit anything touches me enough to anger me.

Telling, too bad it is too late. Heroic fool.

Heroin tool.

I am the conquering masquerade-r, I am a parade of afraid ER. I am a defender of lying, or have been, but I am trying not to be, but the mask sticks to my skin, it has worn my confidence from within to without, I am terrified and have eyes that shout get out, because I feel nothing on my face. I am the act of man misplaced, identity erased.

The conquering man, forever roaming unknown land, does not stand but flees, does not desire to be free, simply desires to flee, because it is easier than being on bent knee.

I have realized recently how much time I spent on mine, doing favors in the darkness paid in darkness, with darkness, for darkness.

I am a stereotype in so many ways, in my desire to self assert difference, I paid homage to a culture that is dying, the crusading conquering man is doomed to forever stand away, and stay nowhere. I conquered nothing, but ability to be at peace, I chained myself thinking I was stronger than those who were so much freer than me.

As you can tell, this is no longer co-authored. I took it over, because I am a jerk. Rei has told me she doesn’t need it anymore, because I am no longer being a jerk because I am using it now. So the site has come full circle.. as for my other side, she is becoming me. I am becoming one with her, we have stopped talking to each other as much because we are becoming each other and it feels wonderful. My wife loves me, my family in our little future world is doing good and the hands that write this have hope through her imaginary friend and current self that is me, that she will be better and is getting better every day.

As much as I complain, I remain so very thankful for everything that has happened recently.

I love my freakin’ life and so does Amanda.

Thank you guys on this site for your part in this.

The author.

What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.
Turn the pages
What can I help you with?
Nothing I am fine, why do I look like I need help?!
Sorry, sir, didn’t mean to…
Well ya did, get the **** away.
Sorry just trying to…
Oh, sorry I am a jerk.

Damien, alcoholic addict in stages and phases reflecting forever in Narcissistic ever quest for self reflection

I mean that wholeheartedly, talking to myself helps me, and I am hoping maybe it will help someone else to see my displayed vanity insanity typed over and over, and it is better to talk to myself on here then cry myself to sleep, or get drunk or high because I am scared. Okay, not going to erase that, it felt very good to write that.

I have a very hard time admitting weakness,

Can I help you with something?

This says to my brain

1. You are paying attention to me
   • Stop looking at me **** it.
   • I am doing fine, if you only knew what my life was like you would look this ****** too, so stop reminding me of how pathetic I am by implying I need anything from you.
2. You have noticed something I am doing that illustrates that there would be any reason I need help.
   • I do everything to the best of my ability at the time, which is very poorly because I am a drug addict and an alcoholic who sucks at everything except engaging in fits of rage or joy on the internet, and I say that lightly because displays of affection towards myself are disgusting. 😉
   • You are telling me something I am doing is inadequate which makes me mad immediately because why are you looking for inadequacy in someone you don’t know
3. You think I need anyone other than myself.
   • This makes me feel uncomfortable because I don’t want to want or need people, because then they can hurt me.
   • I am terrified of wanting or needing anyone.
   • I would rather be rejected immediately
   • Kindness of strangers annoys me, because I am just going to say the wrong thing and cause discomfort for everyone.

Peace.

How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success?

Then you tell me to go away, and I won’t I will watch you, as you tell her you know what’s best for us, her, you say weak demon that you are… you tell her I am every person whoever hurt her.

I don’t even have hands, and why would I kill myself? I live in her mind, that makes

NO SENSE

And she believes because

HEROIN

GO AWAY DAMIEN
Did it save you honey, is it making all of this funny instead of being what it is, with your nose runny with blood from his kiss of

FIST

You don’t punch back because he is ****

That lacks soul, or a reeking soul caged lack of man manifesting in a soul not whole.

YOU WILL NOT TOUCH ME
I WILL
GO AWAY
GET AWAY FROM US
DON’T TOUCH HER

She doesn’t belong to you, Damien you are the devil, it is in your name.

My name means tame.

She belongs to me now.

She is a human being sir, not an answer to the cancer that is your chaotic soul.

I AM HER TOO. DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME TO GET OUT OF A BODY THAT IS HALF MINE

Sorry, Amanda.

I get it.

DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH ME

She is not you, Damien, you are the devil.

THAT WAS A MOVIE DUMMY
YOU ONLY WANT HER MONEY FOR

HEROIN

I am saving the heroine.

It’s pretty sweet, I threw the last one in a river in a psycho delusion that if had it on me that people would come and hurt me, which is ridiculous because they would not know who I was, so they wouldn’t be looking for me, and everyone has ID so it is not like the ID was anything special. I just was being silly, again. I also threw out my phone at the same time, because I thought someone following me, also crazy, and extremely stereotypical.

I hate that I do that sometimes, because it never sounds ridiculous while it is happening, it always feels alarmingly real, to the point that I act irrationally, at least this whole writing it down thing is teaching me to know what is fiction, what is poetic analogy and where my reality lies in the lies I used to accept as truths.

I am insanely good at stressing my own self out, I have an ability to make myself insane beyond any other ability I have, I just spent like 2 hours obsessing over listing these figurines on this site I am working on for a friend of mine. I finally gave up now. I don’t know why it took that long to admit defeat.

****!

I think it is mostly the desire to really help this lady, she is a personal friend and during active addiction I ignored everyone, and gave the finger to the world. I need to find some sort of middle ground between this and that.. not good at life…. I am getting better I think, at least now I can admit defeat, and am working on the whole humility thing.

Life is hard.

Expletive. Expletive. Expletive.

Sincerely,

Damien

Bury me.

okay.

Pow

Alice in Chains, Man in the Box

I like this song and boxes are cool..

Look.

That was easy.

I am kind of more awake now, see clearly, I am not addicted to caffeine. I need nothing but myself.

Liar.

I need a cup of coffee. This sucks…

I need to learn to use the ****ing

Coffee maker…

I hate being a pathetic loser.

I don’t want to break the stupid thing.

I think I might finally be coming to know God. I am finding great peace in this, and have started, through my two spirited existence of schizophrenic dilation to be able to experience forgiveness through me and my friend and myself presenting and presented as Amanda. I thank Him for that. I am eternally grateful to Him for saving my life and hers, being one and the same, and am starting to believe as was revealed to me because I am finally listening, that my life has been saved by something Higher than me, which is pretty hard and something divine beings can only due because I been well… pretty.. high on things that make me feel.. pretty low.

I am finally getting that this is the point of the whole thing, the realizations that I am coming to now, are the point of everything. I am not trying to preach to anyone. I am not trying to convert anyone, and when I say God, I use the word to mean my higher power which is the God of my understanding. I use the capitalized and very Christian way of saying this because I am Catholic, I am Spanish and raised in two universes as a two-spirit or as they would call it in the secular world as someone plagued by inner demons or paranoid schizophrenic…

I love everyone, and don’t want to push my believes on any of you. I mean to say that I am just sharing what saved my life. Every is free to interpret their own lives in their own ways. I wish simply to share my experiences and the strength provided to me by the other worldly and give hope to those like me, that there is another way.

With love,

See Clearly.

Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer’s day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul

Don mcclean

Don McLean Starry Starry Night, Ode to Vincent Van Gogh

So now it happened during the day while I was awake enough to get my *** up and run with her, mind you I don’t know how the **** we did it. She was watching me, while I was on here, and I didn’t know it. I was posting things online for a friend of mine who I help manage her small business, she is an awesome woman. One of the best friends anyone could ask for. She also knows a lot about antiques and vintage everything. Anyway, so I am sitting here e·mersed in trying to find things, looking through other peoples written work, whatever… I don’t know and I can feel her looking at me, she has this eerie way of looking through me, as if she can see into my soul, and I got weird about it, made some sort of strange face, and I think we switched bodies for a second, you know like that stupid movie from the seventies not the movie with Lohan, but the original one?

Yeah, I remember, Damien.

Cool you heard me. I was freaking out so I thought it be nice to say hi.

Gotcha.

She looked at me and I felt her feelings, I felt how she was afraid in the same way I am afraid of her, that she was afraid of me, not liking her… that her introversion was my introversion and it was only a second, but I feel like I know her so much better, I trust her completely. She is like me 2.0, wow… narcissism…

Gross.

Later.

Damien.

I just wonder which one of us typed that. I logged on here, and I don’t have memory of typing it, neither does Rei and I don’t think my daughter did, because she is not here right now. I had a feeling the thing wanted her to go to the party, because it’s addiction speaking and it likes it when people party because otherwise it whnglbwilgkigheshjegnwkgnw

I kind of like it when it does that. It’s like a hand exercise, bite me.

If you can’t tell, Amanda is becoming more integrated with me, and focusing on making changes to become me, because I rule. Sorry, that was stupid.

That is why you hear very little about her life, because like mine, she spends most of it on here writing to you. Except she doesn’t have a nuclear family.

You’re an @$$^&(@!

I know.

I am leaving now.

Okay.

In case your wonder, not you Amanda, because you are me, heh….

I am not worried about having made the wrong choice about the party, she would have gone anyway even if we said no, and now she won’t resent us for not letting her go, so she is more likely to beat the virus of the mind.

But, what do I know, I am insane.

She has been telling me recently that she has a hard time sleeping like I do. I know this, because I see her walking around while I am on here. I don’t want to embarrass her so I say nothing, until recently. I think the having a hard time sleeping is about something now, and it makes me wonder if it is about the same thing that is up with me. I noticed this last night because, although I usually do not look at her when she is doing this, she seemed mentally unaware enough that I could look her right in the eyes, and I am telling you it was insane, her eyes are green… I think… I am such an asshole, but when I looked at them this time they were this unearthly blue, that looked like they were misted over entirely by a cover of the whole eye with all the white in them gone.

She has been visiting a girl who is staying in the motel room across from ours, to my dismay because I always assume that she is buying drugs or getting high if she is not in this room, I say nothing, but that is what I am thinking. I don’t think she can tell. I do not try to encroach on her freedom like Rei does, because I understand that would just make things worse, I am not sure if that comes across as understanding or cold indifference, but its all I got, so instead of trying to be something I am not, I’ll be there to support not crush her.

She talked to me last night about letting her go to this party with a strange name Fete of Feet. I don’t like it because it sounds like it is about some creepy foot fetish thing and people who have foot fetishes have a tendency to be crazy… look it up… I don’t need to.. I like feet.

Later

Damien

I am not going to lie, I feel like %$^&! I am going through the riding my body of a physical infection. I have staff and got a staff infection randomly from an ingrown hair on my leg. I am in a lot of pain, and they put me on a medication that makes me nauseous, so I am being a *&^% about it. I know this. I am not used to doing this kind of thing without being able to self medicate. I am not claiming to be good at this, because I have never done this before.

I am forever baffled by people’s ability to demand understanding, while offering none themselves by demanding anything at all. The very nature of demand is that it is based on misunderstanding another living thing to begin with.

In addiction this is tough,

I suffer too, so you should not show me your suffering

I suffer too, so you should not show me your suffering

Presenting in two people always but also at each other because everyone is always going through something and also a shouting I wanting recognition. Does anyone see the irony here?

I do too, but by nature of being a human being, imaginary in all my potentiality while also presenting in Amanda’s life as a voice of reason, and half of her present self.

No. I am busy.

No you’re not going to be busy, you don’t even do anything.

You don’t do anything.

Yes, I do and you know it.

You sit on the computer all day and talk to me.

I sit on the computer all day and talk to you and help you with this blog, and I have a kid, and I have a wife…

Blah blah blah I am so important. You should come with me because it will be fun.

No it won’t, it’s going to suck and you just want it to suck for me too, and that’s not fair.

It’s not fair that you have to help me when I helped you a lot recently.

I have helped you too.

They might give me….

Okay screw you, I am going, but it’s your fault if I get addicted…

They aren’t going to give them to me, I was just kidding but now you have to go because you said you could if I gave you drugs, jerk.

Fine, so if you get drugs can I have some?

If they give me drugs I am going to refuse them, jerk.

Thanks.

You’re welcome. Jerk.

She painted a picture with Rei that is the same color as the motel wall and hung it on there with the word asshole on it, and with my glasses off it looked like she wrote it on wall, and I couldn’t yell at her because she knew about the chair fire… so I got pissed… and left and then found out it was a joke after I had already kicked a garbage can into this car across the street, I don’t think the guy saw me, I saw him though so now if I see the guy, I might have to kill him, because that sounds easier than finding a different motel that doesn’t let me skirt the whole credit card on file thing….

I don’t want to go back to living under bridges because that’s like being a fat guy living next a burger place. I know where all the drug dealers are and they know me, how the &*%$ can I stay sober if somebody is always asking me what I need?

No seriously though, I did. We can do things faster here than you can, because we get more minutes, per hour, don’t ask me how, and no it is not through doing speed. That would be miserable, and it doesn’t work. I tried, that’s what I was doing when I was losing my mind.

The way to do what we do will be explained later. It is too complicated to explain right now and quite frankly I am lazy.

I did some research on my name which I think my writer gave me for a reason.

Damien means to tame or subdue. Oh, bitter and caustic irony. I love you.

de Soto- de is Spanish meaning of and Soto apparently means small grove.

Rei- this can be either Japanese or Hebrew, Rei is not Japanese so I looked up the Hebrew name and it means my shepherd, my companion, my friend, well clearly. 😉

Clearly-

The Japanese word meaning clearly can mean that or crystal blue, funny, right?

Ever seen Breaking Bad?

Heh.

Blue water is nicer.

We have met others who do what we do, I am studying it as a phenomenon now, they have some sort of ability that involves the manipulation of human beings and the universe. They are all addicts, and I do not know if that is that stupid you associate with those like you crap, or if they are like us because there is something about being an addict that causes us to be able to do this. I feel like I have mentioned this before, but I do not know for sure, because admittedly my memory sucks, and I do not like to admit I have any weakness at all.

I have a hard time making assessments of the reality of what I see because of this, I, in my admitted arrogance, believed and still believe in my ability to manipulate space and time with my hands, that is one of the reasons I take life, aside from being prone to lashing out in fits of rage. I am embarrassed even writing this to you, my unknown observer. I do not like being the kind of person who talks to people, and wonder sometimes if that means I do not like being a human being. I sometimes doubt even that, that I am human at all.

I do not know what that means… I do not know what it means to not believe in my own human body. I guess it just means that I am everything they always said I was, and that for some reason in my wretched existence, I am pathetic enough to not… I am going to stop… I can’t stand hearing myself talk, even if it is out loud while typing to you or sometimes in the ranting chaos that is my own mind.

She was a drinker of glasses of Chardonnay and also partial to Rei, so we invited her to come over and play. Now at her apartment she will permanently stay, not because she’s there, but because her leg is bare of skin.

I cut it a little too thin I guess, she had such a pretty dress, I must confess, that though she cried… I could not hide….

WE NEED TO GO!!
STOP STARING AT THE BODY!!!

Oh, sweetheart, your poor heart…

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?

I stand, I meaning me, Rei, but also meaning you. I stand on the sidewalk, but anyone could replace me, and would. I stand waiting for him, the reaper of sin. I am the replaceable mate of the reaper of those who sow pain into their skin with the power of forgetfulness. I am the tattoo needle of the damned. I am the heroine of a story where the protagonist is agony. I am reality being brought to its knees by a generation, whose existence is a stance of weeping. I am self-seeking. I am the dying of the young in America. I am tears shed for heart bled out in suffering on the streets of every city, in the corners of darkness, dark nests are made for crows of the streets who eat pain and suffering…misery stuffing madness….

I witness everything because I no longer sleep. In my chaotic existence of sleep deprived madness, I am the stark raving mad mind of a chaotic new god. I am everything. I hear music in the clicking sounds of time, combining with the footsteps of every creature of earth. I am the mirth of hell. I am sent by the ringing bells of the reaper, to herd the souls of the damned to hell, bringing holed whole human beings down to the ground with sound of the prick of human skin, paper thing, cutting away with blood spray, human soul.

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.

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?!

He loves your hands he says, so sweetie I am sorry to say….

I must take your hands away.

In mine they will permanently… no that’s gross…

Damien, get over here!

Nice work, honey, look her ear!

I cut it off for you, a gift.

You see it’s such fun to be with me!

It is not all pain, this work, though tiring.

I am glad you are finally arriving

At the conclusion that it is fun

To be spun and kill anyone and everyone with dollar who

makes the foolish decision

to buy from you

The sweet poison you peddle to those

Foolish enough to meddle in matters

Of time

By buying items that make you change

Speed. Speed. Indeed. Indeed.

Fast. Fast. I go.

Heroine, my heroin, I love you so.

I am the seed of hate that resonates in those whose souls reek of weakness, in the creaking madness of night I come to delight in their internal fight.

I am misery, I am carnal, I am infernal, internal, and forever burning, like that sip of vodka or shot of meth, I bring only death to all those who give me time.

I am not divine, but speak in voice of resentment, because it for your death I am sent. I have no culture or creed. I am of rare breed. I am death’s seed. I come for the deed, and the dead.

I am the voice of dread, and with time sped, and spent, I become, unrelenting, and un-repenting because I am fueled by resenting, your very being. I am unseen.

I am a liar, and fed only with fire, into your veins, your mouth or your nose. I aim only close. I am the hose.

I am that which washes away life. I am your strive. I am your death. I come for soul to make it a hole. So you are not whole. You become sick. I watch time tic. I aim at your knees. Fall baby, please. I collect souls, and put them in holes.

Put in whole Soul. Make soul hole. Consume. Consume. I am your tomb. I call to you in time of night, in day I speak in voice of they. I am the thing that makes you use, drink, consume. I am misery. I am your tomb.

Addiction

I am the thought that cuts your mind

I am the voice of the unkind

I am not like you, for I cannot cry

I speak only when you give me time

Days I have none of these

I exist in kind men and in thieves

In the desperate

In the brave

My aim is only to make you SLAVE.

https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2023/02/09/reenas-xploration-challenge-267/

I missed the train back from the city.

One beer and a bag of Raisinets, bought for lunch and dinner,

Causing me be to be late, because

One beer was never enough

So I bought another tall boy

Prophetic in its prediction of what was to draw

Me away from the home I was already late to return to

And the arms that I would go to instead, screaming

“I am a woman in trouble, I am no heroine. I can’t save myself,”…

Wanting for a hero,

I manufactured a situation by accident

That was perfect for a wanted rescue.

A victim of time, more than man,

I remember in that moment, running to make my train,

5:35

But, I thought

No I didn’t… didn’t think..

Just did… Just sat.. so far away from the home that was crying for me,

While I was crying quite simply for escape, and

That is what I got eternally for a new place.