It came from below

It came from below the land of light, from worlds of blue and not of bright light, she heard its voice, saying its name, it spoke in tongue, not the same, as that of hers though she understood and talk to it, she said she could, it told a tale that was of a land, underneath and

I am clear, I am light, I am the opposite of what you have known, I am the unknown.

From beneath, and below, underwater, where she could go, and swim with fish, who were said to have names, and they had fun, and they played games, she didn’t know the creatures there, being from the land of air, she was not sure, she did not want to be brought down under, with air that haunts her, with the need to breathe for life, she thought this would only cause strife, but she was wrong, and now she knows, if she were there, she would have no toes, she would be fish, not human girl, so she thought she would give it a whirl.

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Waves of Collected Sunlight

I am fine, why?

You haven’t talked to me all day, that’s why.

I know, I was insulted by the universe earlier.

The universe insulted you? That sounds pretty narcissistic.

The universe thought so too.

Sam

Her hair smelled like lilacs, and her kiss tasted like mint, her skin smelled slightly like cinnamon. She was an artist, a painter, and scenes she’d depict far away lands with suns fading quick, she was a master of sunset and lover of night, hater of fear, and haver of fright, she hated the morning, and too hated day, so during that time, I would sure stay away, not sure what she did, or sure where she’d go, I miss her so…

I find it so fascinating, and positively delightful, to rip out your color and tell my story, it is such a relief for you to be so unreal, you and all that you are, that makes it so hard to feel. I am so happy, so at peace with you, just an image of attack, and all that you are one, who likes to take back, and to shove forward, and put on me everything, as long as it is negative.

I am the bad guy in every story you told, I am the villian in all tales young and old, color me that way, make me large, and you small, color me clearly, till I am not there at all.

Do you like technicolor?

Lovely Technicolor Angels from Hell

I like pain, I like pain, I like pain.

It is always on my……..

Have from flowers, from Hell.

So sorry, that is just where I dwell, sometimes, not all the time, really, I am fine, just thinking about you sometimes, not all the time.

You are on my

BRAIN BRAIN BRAIN

In meditative state I reflect on the rain, and think of drowing, a duck with my head up, not breathing, just sucking in the water, and choking on it.

Burn me sweetie, make it hot, burn it so it cures my soul rot. Make it seering, make it jarring, make it burning, make it scarring.

She wore my coat, and I left it with her, because she smelled like lavender, and I wanted to forget her.

You reminded me of the rays of the sun, and that reminded me of someone I would rather

FORGET

Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.

I am so sorry, wedded to disdain, been with her such a long time, grown so used to being bound to decline, it is always on my mind.

She talks so sweetly sometimes, really, voice sounding so simular, to my ex Rei Clearly,

She tells me she loves me, and sometimes I believe the lie, it is so hard, she is a good spy, has such a good hand, good at act of torture, she is a word sorcerer.

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The chase is on, I am running in front, running in front of cars and running in the light of day, I am addicted to being chased by death, I am running right and left, I am playing with the idea of time theft. They are plunging towards me as I get high on the idea of roll the die.

Roll the dice, baby, color by number,

I am running towards the idea of death, I am chasing after the idea of theft of life, I am chasing the idea of dying, I am leaving the idea of trying.

Nihilism, nihilism, nihilism, I love you so,

Oh, nihilism, I will never let you go.

I am the act of rolling under, roll the die, baby, I am the act of die, die, die.

I am chaos incarnate..

Do you chase death?

In the blink of an eye, I make the woman in the passenger seat cry, she is looking at the driver’s seat cry, what are they doing…. I have no idea why?????

I am the act of dog in a human being.

Surrounded on both sides, by the all consumingness of you, I look out into nothing, and see only lack, my soul in perpetual attack, under the spell of don’t look back, and look down and vomit with sound of

ACK. Cough. Cough. I am human eating from chaos’ trough, I eat drugs and don’t come down, I star out into the lurking nothing, reflecting back on pain that I stuff into

The gaping hole, that I have inside my soul, it rips and tears and eats the idea of me whole. I am reality bought and sold, I am bell of death ringing, I am a toll,

Unpaid, unpaid, unpaid.

I am gate to HELL,

You are the idea of HELL

Idea of being UNWELL

OF PAIN THAT IS SWELL

AND SWELLING AROUND MY SOUL

OF DEATH CONSUMED BY UNPAID TOLL

Laid, laid, laid, and

Opening, opening, opening, and staying

Extended into the opening, opening,

Blue, and black nothing, I am the idea of you stuffing stuffing, into the the whole hole of your soul, the teddy bear full of NOTHING.

Have you ever broken a bone?

My wrist, my wrist, my wrist, and this….

I had three of my finger tips amputated due to heroin addiction, annd injection site infection.

I am bone loss

I am the disintegration of neglected, injected, flesh.

I am an amputation due to heroin addiction.

I am forgetting you are a being with flesh.

I am the act of ingest, things that make flesh decay, I am not heroic, and let my flesh pass away.

The Ghost Piano, the missing fingers, the missing hands

Explanation: This is a journal style entry full of negativity or negative self-talk that I am trying to write out of my head, read with that in mind, do not read if you cannot handle dark horror dramatized fiction.

This is for you baby, you make me insane, you live in my brain, oh voice of disdain, making fun of voice of complain, you are mean, but succeed in drain, drain, drain, all pain from me, so I guess I can thank ya, right? Yeah, right…

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

NSFW: EXPLICIT CONTENT: NOT FOR SENSITIVE READERS: The Writhing Agony of Whining Morons

My hands hurt, my head hurt, and my brain hurts, so I have spent the entire day in bed feeling sorry for myself ansd watching television, and just got sick of my relentless whining enough to make jokes about it on the internet, because it makes my own resentment, or the voice of every person I have dated, shut the **** up, if I do it to myself instead.

That is the explanation for the plot of the story that is my life, talking at myself or to myself to stop the screaming of my brain at myself.

That good enough for you, *****???

Hope so, maybe then I will be able to chill the **** out.

Hahaha, it is kind of funny now though, the relentless pile of verbal trash I hurl at my own face…

I was walking through the woods, not sure how I got there, or why, just remember waking up walking, I am alone in this memory, and walking careful not to alert animals to my presence, and I am scared, not sure of what, but I know it is not human…

You come up to me, I do not know who you are, or what you are, I mean to say….

I just know that, the instant I see you

I know I am safe.

You tell me you feel it too, a pulling in the air, as if we…

Are in the ocean, and there is an undertow.

You talk to me, and I feel like you are keeping us above water.

I am in the woods, so it doesn’t make much sense, because it is the woods, not the ocean, but I feel the sense that we are always on the verge of sinking, as if we are treading water. She keeps her head close to mine, and every so often, I can feel her breath. She whispers in Spanish in my ear, I am not fluent, so I don’t know what she is saying, but I feel safer with every word she says, knowing only that as I continue, i am getting safer.

I wake up sweat drenched and alone, but not anywhere I started. I am in the woods, alone, there is no one around. I look for the woman, and no one is to be seen. To this day, I am convinced I met a ghost in those woods that saved me from drowning in a swamp. My name means from swamp, I wonder to this day, if this was some sort of vision of a relative.

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Her face a garden of perfection, she was picturesque, with anything negative beyond my detection, she was beauty incarnate, completely divine, she was picturesque to me, but who do I know, I am half blind.

Everything about her, appeared divine, she was beauty, she was divinity, for her I would lose my mind.

Your mind is already gone, long ago, you fool, said my inner child, for this beautiful woman, my soul went slightly wild.

Slightly? Questioned the child within me, fully completely, was my sanity.

She was a painting, a mosaic, she was divine, but what do I know, I am insane, my mind is not kind.

The light of perception is blurry

What’s the oldest things you’re wearing today?

My perception, my perception

It is the oldest I have, my clothing is new,

My life no longer sad.

I have been percieveing with these eyes for 36 years, they have seen many things, experience love, hate, and fear. They are learning to know peace and serenity, but are not there yet, not sure when, or if they will ever be,

But it is my quest, and I am quite glad, better this, I figure than remaining

INSANE

My clothes are new, so this post is silly, as I think my skin is 36, and my soul lays somewhere in this flesh container I occupy, and see through brown eyes into a world that is painted by my perception, painted the way I view it, used to be colored with rage and jealousy, but now beginning to change, and everything going from stained to changed.

I am learning to change my perception, and my clothes, unlike when I was one of the homeless folks and I lived in old clothes, donations that were never really mine, now my clothes, although they are bought not by me, are new, but my skin is still 36, and carries with it the knowledge of 36 years of not being new.

I am in love, I am in love, with voices that shove me, anyone really, who makes me feel dreary, because I am addicted to pain not with painkillers but with pain, addicted is not the right word, maybe

LOVE would be more appropriate.

I love you baby, so much, so very much.

BURN ME

I go round and round in circles, I am the pain of mind that won’t turn off, I am addicted to the cycle of up and down, can’t get off.

I go round and round in circles, I am the pain of mind that won’t turn off, I am addicted to the cycle of up and down, can’t get off.

Why? And what do you mean?

I mean be mean to me, make me cry, I like to be poked in the eye.

Um… dude…

I know, this is weird, I am going to stop embarrassing myself online…

The Laughing Woman, and the Krystal Ship

Shadow Superheroes

Are you a leader or a follower?

I once lead the line in kindergarten, and then never was allowed to again. I lead us outside, instead of to music class, because I forgot about time, and hated music class. I thought I could lead us wherever I wanted to go and it would be time for that class, also I forgot what class we were supposed to be in.

The line split into two factions the rebels who followed me, and maintained my recess delusion, and those who followed the rules and went to music class.

That is an excellent illustration of my lack of ability to follow rules, which I guess in some way would answer this question.

She was a statue, though she did move around, she was my girlfriend, a woman with no sound, she was a statue, she was very stiff, she was my girlfriend, and had such quick wit.

She hated all people, and would not talk to anyone, and people she hated, saying she hated everyone, she talked only to me, and it was quite a burden, she was very sad, and unwell, called me Tyler Durden, I told her my name, but she thought we lived in a film,

Didn’t know the difference between Fight Club and me and her life, she was very crazy, came at me with a knife, she told me she must kill me, told me I was bad, so I went away, and now she is mad. She still calls me sometimes, and we talk on the phone, but I think due to her state, it is best she is alone.

Color me with re-touch, paint it on thick.

I am so happy, I am elated, I am hapiness, I am instated.

You amuse me, baby. You make it all clear, in the continuous light, there is the death of fear.

In the darkness, there is the smallness of men, in the light men can pretend.

I am the act of courage defended.

I am happening, I am walking, I am talking, I am man experiencing joy.

I am selfishness, I am madness, I am a toy.

Darkness, darkness, I am mad, darkness, darkness makes me sad.

Cry for me baby, make me go crazy.

I am the toy of madness.

Madness. Madness. Mad nest

Nesting, nesting, nesting

Doll

All the birds

Big and small

The arrogance of man destroys nature to make a land of joyous elation.

The birds are displace, squirrel’s home are erased, and perpetual light is found.

I am children screaming loud.

Click. whir, clack, bang, boom, vroom.

I am a magic act.

Entertain me, please.

I am so entertaining.

I am arrogance.

Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.

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Glowing with posotivity

In a dark room, in the depths of hell, lives an addict with pain that is just swell, or swelling, of the mind of the soul, and also of the brain, which caused them to go insane, and come to think strange thoughts, like I don’t need them, don’t need anything or anyone, anything at

All

They are the ones that are smaller then me, though I am so tiny.

My arms are cut by pin pricked misery, and so I have learned a great skill you see. I can just look in the mirror and talk to

MYSELF, or type it on the internet, or scream at them at the top of my lungs, it is really so much fun, see sweet Ms. Re…. we have just won.

It is the end of the day, and I am looking for a place to stay.

I am running, I am not sure what I am running from, but I come upon this house, and begin pounding on the door, there are women inside and I start speaking, not even sure what is going to come out of my mouth, just knowing that I am hungry and tired, and can’t walk anymore, because it feels like I have been walking for a really long time.

They invite me to sit down.

I am a house in the middle of nowhere, I am owned by an adult child, and populated with the unfortunates, who travel through the night and day, and come and stay sometimes, and sometimes run away, and never return.

I am not paid for, because I was abandoned a long time ago, and to the eyes of the owner, no one ever comes in and no one ever leaves.

I am covered with lack of care, which is great because on these stairs, no one is there, no one and everyone really, every one and any one who is in need…

She glowed with radiance she glowed with dark, she glowed with shadow, she glowed with the power of heart, she was so sad, her face was marked with tragedy and abandoned heart, her dog had no name, she knew no call, she followed her owner anyway, girl who was tall, both in stature and in tale, she was a liar, who was prone to fail, addicted to fiction and tall tales,

I am Shelia, that is my name, I am a Shelia, a girl, a dame.

A man of soot told me a lie, and now wolf, do I cry.

I played with fire, and he hurt me bad, stole my dog, now I am sad.

Gold *****

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

MUST

MAINTAIN MAINTAIN MAINTAIN

Hampster wheel of run away

AWAY AWAY A WAY

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

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

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

Fire fire fire

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

I am okay okay okay

Please go away.

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

Fog Get Her

Forget her.

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

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

I will follow you

Follow you wherever you may go

Except that storage unit, anywhere but there, anywhere but there, I am going up the stairs, I want to be anywhere but there.

It tells me it knows what I think, that I am going to Hell, and that it will be okay, that I have nothing to fear, because the devil, a man who lived, is just like me, and everything will be alright, that I can have whatever I want, once I get there, and that I should just swear allegiance now.

I laugh, if I have to swear allegiance, that is all horse ****.

Feed me your bull****

Feed me your lies

Tell me your stories of deep dark cries

To heads that love you, so very much, that trap you and keep you like an animal stuffed

and suffering in a deep dark hole

They don’t want your friendship, just you sullied soul.

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

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

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

TBC

You are everything I do not have, because I have lived of a life of too bad, so sad, goodbye’s, of too high to live, but too sad to try to die. You are everything I never had, becuase I was too mad to put a bottle down, too angry to throw out mixed poison, and now I am stuck in looking back, because for the moment, it is Sunday and I have nothing to do, but think of you.

I am a gasoline fire, made of pained backward reflection, smoke billowing everywhere, anywhere and nowhere, burning embers, burning leaves saved from September, the last time I remember feeling anything other than small and addicted to pain.

She looks like our friend, baby.

Yeah she does, are you done ****ing now?

Yeah, I guess so, at least I have you.

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

Isn’t life lovely, isn’t life grand, how wonderful it is, lacking the courage to stand, in the darkness I am, in the dark lack of day, I am always forever, and fated to stay.

I am above you, but so very below, I am the person with whom you should not go. You don’t believe me, you think I am a liar, you think that was my brother, who you wished to set on fire.

Isn’t it nice?

Isn’t it great?

Such a pleasant re-do, now we can relate. I am not the person I was, now I am new, I am girl re-colored for you.

There is no difference, between me and him, no rhyme or reason for your lie wearing thin.

You slowly realize I was telling the truth.

Isn’t it tragic, now I am removed.

You removed yourself, sweetie.

I know I did.

I assure you, I am delicious.

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

INSANE

I am probably insane… I am actually insane.

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

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.

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

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

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

What is your problem?

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

How peculiar

I met her near a bridge, she was going to work, she spotted me underneath the bridge, picking up the rest of my stuff, so no one would know I had camped there for the night. If I was careful, sometimes I could use the same spot twice. This was particularly important in Oregon, because it was not as understanding as California, and shop owner’s or random passersby could help police decide to banish the unhoused travelers.

Do you still think what you thought about her?

Yes. I still find it very strange that her name was Bridgette and we met her underneath a bridge.

Look, I know that is peculiar, but what you thought was insane.

I don’t think it is that insane that people were following us and giving quickly devised names, it is a perfectly logical explanation that you see in old movies all the time.

I guess that makes sense.

Paintings of Madness

I remember

I remember standing there with you, but alone, I am not a human being, but one who walks with herd, and cannot answer telephone. I remember walking with herd of sheep, and one unknown. I am not an answerer of call, but a mouth that is sewn, tragically shut, by needle.

I was once a maker of dark colored quilt, sown onto pained skin. I am looking back now, at scarred skin, not speaking of new pain, just of that used to live within, it is no longer, but there is nothing new dwelling in the skin I am wearing.

That is not true.

I know that is not true, but go with me, here.

Okay.

I am not sure where I am going with this actually, thank you for interrupting me.

You’re welcome.

Such tragic skies

I love you baby, you make me complete, you so fare, you are so wonderful, and you are so neat. You are so wonder filled, so lovely, with your grace, I am replete. I would build you an altar, but my love is strewn across the street.

I am so sorry, for how it must end, you were such a wonderous, lovely, trend, for my life to take…. so dreadfully sorry, I made such a tragic and unfashionable mistake.

You were so right, my angel, about me, and my life, me, such a dark creature, addicted to night.

I am so sorry, baby, I loved you so much. I am so sorry, that I lost all your trust. I couldn’t do what you asked me, I see through blind eyes, so sorry sweetie, I am a creature of despise.

You make me so happy, you make me so… actually, I forgot… I am no longer that way…

Which?

I am battered, I am fried, I am toasted, I am dyed, I am chasing after I, I am screaming after guy, I am chaos of nearly died, I am seering poke in eye.

You are insane, and lying now.

I know, but at least I made you smile, so whatever.

Look at me, look at me.

I still think it is creepy. I think it is because of the last edits recolor.

No, I am serious, I do not know how to use a new computer really.

I call all streaming services, the streaming. I have been under a rock for 15 years.

I accidentally set the background to this woman who looks like she is looking at me with this crazy smiling face, which is basically just a normal happy face, I am assuming, but for a lunatic, it looks like she is smiling at me in this eerie way that says I hate you and know you are thinking about whiskey.

just hanging out

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

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

Yes.

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

I am the flower of devour.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That sucks.

For us or them.

Well, mostly them.

Why?? Not what I expected to hear…

Because, we never have to be truly alone.

Or, we are always more alone than anyone ever.

Other than maybe Gollum on Lord of the rings.

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

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

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

She forgives me.

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

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

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

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

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

She forgives me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, so sad your life went south

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

I was very glad you decided to leave,

appreciated the pipe you had up your sleeve,

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

I am so tired of the tragic tweekers

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

I don’t think they were talking about nightmares, idiot, that is why it says dreams not nightmares.

I live in a world of my creation, that is not subject to anyone’s dictation, I am not bothered by any situation because all you are lying and I am

ALWAYS RIGHT.

I know that my dreams which I have all day long every day all day, would never lie to me, because I never give upp on them, they are never ever to be given up, never in a

MILLION YEARS

Even if it brings me

TO MY KNEES

I would never give up on them, that is why I wrote it on my fridge with scrabble letters from a box I stole from a store while I was trying to find things to steal to buy things I didn’t need anyway.

I had a plan, it was a disaster and it failed, unfortunately building my whole life around maintaining and continuing drug and alcohol use was a bad plan… How I didn’t see this before is beyond me..

Jot down the first thing that comes to your mind.

The voice of HELL screams loud out at night, existing in a universe of lack of light, delighting in perpetual fight, and contorting those who try with all their might, but can’t seem to gain clarity of sight because they exist in perpetual spite drawn to thoughts of deep contortion they are conflicted and resort to dwelling in the comfort of complete madness, because of course it is better than blank lackless lusterr for boring life or anger thriving on perpetual strive that is inflicted with their own hands but they can’t see they don’t know where they stand, so now that sit here and right this because they have no one nothing

Hey. Stop that.

I thought it was pretty cool.

I think it is self-deprecating verbal vomit.

I like throwing up on the screen.

Better than what you used to do.

Hey, that was mean, yeah I guess it is but now I look like hell.

I like the way you look.

Thank you, you too.

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

Don’t call me lovely, ***hole.

But, you are……..so………..

You are such a lunatic.

I know. 🙂

Happy faces?

I like happy faces.

What?

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

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

You’re point being?

That exactly.

So you were putting it there to kill me?

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

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

Hahahahahhahahah. Check mate.

hahahhahahhha yourself.

Yes?

Yes, what kind of response to laughing is yes?

I was assuming the laughing was addressed at me?

Well, that’s pathetic, you heard laughing so you thought I was laughing at you?

No, I heard laughing, so I thought you thought you did something that was funny, which I already know about, because I share you’re consciousness, ***hole.

Oh, well then, did you think it was funny?

Yeah, and I like how you feel like I kicked you in the face.

Good, because I don’t.

Self-pity is so becoming.

I know… isn’t it.

Not a question?

I know what you like.

Miserable Sandwich

Dueling Whiches, God and the Devil

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

I used to work at a sandwich shop, and this story is a story about two encounters that I had at this shop on the same night one positive, one negative, the positive was the last one, and it is the one that stuck out the most because it appeared to happen to negate the first one, almost as if it was because the universe knew the first one happened, which is what I think… because I believe that there was something higher than a human being protecting me from the first encounter.

I was the night clerk at a place that made sandwhiches, like I said in the paragraph prior to this, one I am restating this as a way to remember this…

I worked there from 2 in the afternoon until one in the morning most of the time, this day I was only scheduled to be there till ten, until a bunch of strange things all happened on the same day which all lead to the postive experience in the question.

1. We had a man run into the store who had been beaten up by some random guy in a truck that had been following him because the person in the truck hated gay people, the person knew me, knew my situation and knew that the place I worked would allow him to stay there until he could safely get a ride from his mother home, which we did, and he was able to safely get home. All proper procedures were followed and the man was able to be seen off by the authorities into the hands of his crying mother.

Send me all your lost souls

2. A man came into the store an hour before I was about to close, and demanded that we make 100 sandwiches, which we did, without asking if he had the money to pay for them, because he looked like he did… He was well dressed, and looked like he was not the kind off person who would do what he did…

He leaned over the counter, and looked me straight in the eye, and told me I was going to sell him all the sandwiches for a dollar. I said I could not do that, and looked to see if the gas station guy had left yet for the night, because the guy smelled like booze, which could have been reason enough to throw him out.

He then proceeded to ask me a very strange line of questions.

He demanded to know whether I believed in the Christian god, being very clear with me that it was the Christian god he spoke of.

I told him I am Catholic.

He asked me, what my god had done for me recently…

I shrugged, trying to get out of the conversation…

He then asked me if my god could replace the money missing if he took the sandwiches, I said I didn’t think so… He told me he thought it would be like Jesus and the fish thing.. I stopped speaking… at this point he tells me, he is of the belief that most people have chosen the wrong side, and that his god, the Christian devil is preferable.

I stop talking, thinking the man is probably intoxicated and in some kind of stupor.

He eventually leaves, and I close.

Ambience

2. I get home and at this point am done with the whole thing, and am greeted by my ex, the one who I have not spoke about much on here, who tells me that I have a strange visitor.

A man hugs me, and tells me he saw the whole thing at my job, and that he applauds the way I handled it. He tells me that he knows I did the right thing and says he has seen the man reward people for breaking the rules of their establishments if they give him the items for one dollar.

He tells me that he followed me home to make sure I was alright, in his car which is nowhere to be seen. He laughs, says he is glad I am alright, gives me a hug and wishes me well, and I go upstairs, from my window I can see the man driving away, even though I could have sworn that there were no cars around.

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

She Came Out of Clear Glass

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

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

THE NARRATOR IS INSANE

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

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

I have two, and one of them is yours.

Point taken.

Are you going to finish your story?

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

You provide the only light I see, I am nothing, you are free to leave, I live in Hell, and that’s okay, I am nothing, go away

I am ranting and raving about how it is the only thing, that makes everything allllll riiiiiiiiiiight…………..she is crying hard, I can hear it, but I can’t see clearly……… I think she is telling me to stop because she thinks I am going to die or something……. I don’t think I am going to die…. the two drugs negate eachother… I tell her I’ll be fine, that she can leave if I am disturbing her.

I can’t see you very well

Please get down and go away

I am really not equiped to deal with this

You don’t even know me, and I can assure you I won’t be……missed…….

She tells me she is not getting down, until I get up off the ground. I tell her no and that I will be fine, she doesn’t know me, my life is mine……..I can ruin it if I want…….

Please leave me alone

I am fine

I am resigned to this

This is my space

of

Errrrrrrrrrrraaaaassssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

I hate myself…. I lived in Hell…… and can’t get past….. the past in which I dwell….

You were so kind to try to help me, and I pushed you and everyone else away…..

Memory, memory, of things that were not important enough to me to stop………… making people cry when they only wished I wouldn’t die…

I am so sorry, I never even bothered to learn your name, you saved my life, and I never even bothered to learn your name.

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

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

I am dark acid rain

Reigning down on soul of nothing

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

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

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

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

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

I am glamorization of Hell

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

I am where you shouldn’t be

I am do not envy me

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

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

Wanting this….

What is it you want

You want this?

Why?

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

I am the glamorization of a life of loss..

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

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

I have to save myself……

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

Tell me a story….

Following Me

Forever walking on solid ground

The lights, the lights, the lights

Sometimes, at times, in times, all the time, always and forever, they

I am the green machine

I am envy

I am mean

I am looking at all you lack

I am condescending soul attack

Blend together, not the right word, I am so unheard, absurd, painted, re-done, unspun, spinning, spinning down down down down

Talk to me, sweety, talk to me nice, I am extendeeeeeeeeeeeeddddddddd

Through time………..

Are you doing well?

I go back back back

Walk through the thoughts of the dark

I am a polaroid from Hell, that is where I stay and it is just as well….

Well, well, well,

Not doing so good are you?

I color your world with the colors of Disease, Damien, I color your world with the colors of everything your soul lacks, everything that will cause your eventual failure.

Everything that makes you feel small.

I am the voice of Hell and I am the loudest sound of all.

When I was followed by the glowing light that illuminated the night, street lights that would light up as I past them

I don’t know why or how, just simply that they would blink on and off and off and on

Cover me in purple mirth

I am the fuel of nightmares.

I dream of horses

I dream of horses

I dream in color

I dream of another

I live in bile, I live in Hell, I live in forever under dark dispell.

Come back to me baby, don’t let it drive you crazy………………

On and on and on and on always and forever

always and forever

forever and always

Always and never.

Addict Hell, it’s just a spell, but it is just the same as being there, lurking in the reign of perpetual disdain.

I thought I was sitting alone, ranting and raving about things I thought only I had known, existing I thought in tragic fracture, seperate from all, a perpetual lacker.

I spoke in a state of distanced extension, from a place where I am stuck in muck that I rest in,

Thinking forever I am stuck, in the tragic clawing and ripping, my soul caked with mud, and sopping and dripping, consumed as I was with thought of my sinking,

Lower and lower, I thought I was plunging, backwards and forwards, I sat tragically lunging, sitting alone, but also with friends, but in my sick head, thought I could pretend

To be somewhere else, though I know not why I desire so constantly to poke my own eye, or to sit there back and forth rocking wishing to die, slowly, so slowly making myself cry, but you saw me and helped me

And now I feel better, thank you so dearly, from the ever forgetter.

Untitled

I found this painting of this woman outside a random house awhile ago. It was a throw away piece stained and damaged by water or something, but I liked it. It almost looked intentional the staining looking like it had been an effect that was deliberately done to the painting, like it was always supposed to look like that. It almost looked as though it was a painting that was painted to look like it had been found in a wrecked ship, that had been uncovered and the art had been salvaged.

I hung it in my friends house, where I was staying at the time, the place was a glorified squat house that we used as a venue to throw shows and to drink and hang out with other individuals who had nowhere better to be. It was frequently party to a bunch of people who had never made it in life, but were good enough at writing poetry, songs, or painting or drawing that they could draw a crowd of maybe at max fifty people. We would have gatherings where we would keep the sound to enough of a minimum as to not attract enough attention to bother the neighbors.

It was at one of these gatherings that I found the strange coin, it was extremely odd… it looked almost as if the same woman from the painting was on the coin. It was so odd that I showed it to a bunch of the guests and they had never seen it before. We looked the coin up on the internet which made me extremely paranoid, because I am odd like that…. and came up wieth nothing, my friends even looked it up on a bunch of the image match software search things, and nothing.

The search never went anywhere, and we forgot about it, after that night…. or they did… it always bothered me.. especially after the gathering because the coin dissappeared.. almost like it was never there to begin with.. and shortly after the coin dissappeared.. the strangest thing started to happen to the painting… the mouth and only the mouth began to fade, rapidly, as if it were aging hundreds over years in a couple days.

I am traveling from place to place and am approached over and over, in a eerie way, by people that say they have met me before, they look at me from across the road, and then slowly approach me, all with the same gate, the same pace, the same way of walking. They are varrying people, different but all with the same vocal tone, same gate, and same eyes.

They all approach always from across the street, seeming to pick me out of nowhere, and ask me the same question, always the same question, as if they know me from somewhere. They ask me if I am the girl with the twin brother, the strange thing about this is, I look like a guy… there is nothing about me that suggests I am female from far away. I look enough like a guy that I get asked when at the dentist or the doctor if I am the right person when seeing a doctor for an appointment.

If I say that I am not the girl with the twin brother, they would follow me for a day or so trying to find my twin brother, and then tire of it and apologize, trying to pretend the whole thing was normal, that they could find this person that was sure to exist somewhere else. They would seem embarrassed and assure me it was there mistake, and the whole thing would end pleasantly.

I would only ever let them talk to me as Amanda during this, never sure what it was they wanted with the real me. They would always lose interest and go away. Since I went back home it has stopped occuring, so I am thinking it was location specific, some sort of creepy cultish thing…harrassing street people or something…

I am never open, I am always shut

I am reminded sometimes of nights I spent trying to get to somewhere safe. I would be walking somewhere, and would find myself in a neighborhood, not much unlike any other neighborhood, except a little different. This neighborhood was gated, nobody ever gets in, and nobody ever gets out. The gates enclosed the neighborhood so that was the exact case, exact except not exactly…

That is not always the case… There were times, when staring at certain lights, for a certain amount of time… seemed to have an effect on the bodies orientation towards theres neighborhoods with these gates that no one could ever escape from.

These lights had a specific patterning, they would go on and off in thirty second intervals six times. They were always a glowing red, and would always all together do this weird on and off signaling, and after that signaling the gates of this community would close, having been open before, unbeknownst to any traveler that happened to walk through them, after this signaling, as if prompted by this signaling, people would let out their dogs.

The dogs though enclosed by the gates would somehow be able to make it to the road, where an enclosed passerby that had happened to get trapped in this gated community, would then be trapped in the gated community with six dogs, always six never more, never less…. as if by magic… always six.

The dogs would chase and bite at ankles and people in black vehicles would pass by watching and sometimes would chase as well as the dogs, never assisting always chasing, sometimes almost plowing into you. Very strange…………………

The strangest things

I was walking once, in the middle of the night. It was about three in the morning. I had been drinking after hours with a group of people that I had met at the bar that seemed interesting enough to be worth talking with a little longer, so I went back to their place and stuck around till about 4 in the morning. I like to watch the sun rise, so I left with enough time to be able to catch the sunrise.

I began walking from the house, unfamiliar with where I was and trying to get my bearings, I was beginning to return to hated sobriety, and had the very beginnings of that having slept in a whiskey bottle feeling, like the mouse in Dumbo.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a vehicle come up alongside me, or so I thought. I looked to my side, having sworn I saw it move. The strangest thing, was the car alongside me, that I swore had just parked next to me, looked unoperational. It had two flat tires and a bunch of tickets tucked under the windsheild wipers that were soaking wet, looking like they had been there long enough that the car was recognized to be abandoned.

I still wonder to this day, why had I seen the car driving… was I in some alternate dimension for a second…

PTSD FLASHBACKS: The Strangeness of the Universe, the Multiverse or the Dance of the Chaotic Chasers

I did this weird meditation thing, so this reads like hypnotic thought:

This partially PTSD flashbacks that happened during a thunder storm.

I am here, but I am not, I am here, but I am caught, I hear you, but I don’t, I exist, but I won’t ever be quite as exactly here, as you, whatever I do, I am not exactly where you are. I exist very far, far away, and also always right next to whoever I am next to. I am next to you, but I am not, I exist, but I can’t exist the way you think I can, we are never exactly in the same place.

I am right where I am, sort of, kind of, but I also exist distantly extended throughout space, drifting faceless, over many different times, many different places, that I have been throughout time. I see them all simultaneously.

I am drifting, drifting, drifting.

I am over and over split between places, parts of me, everywhere I have ever been, spread thin, spread out, far from each other, peices lost throughout the universe.

Cat

I am the act of dissing disease.

Speaking for the human being, who exists in the state of being late to a party they were not invited to, so they came late, and irate, and irritated, and possibly…

SoOoOoO EEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLaaAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDD

That they can’t stand, or in other words, the hated human being, being seen through the eyes of demise depsied by demise, who cries for those who lay in a state of moral decay, by the act of staying away from society.

I miss people, so I am trying to find ones who like me, for being me, not just saying whatever, you want, baby.

I am whoever you want me to be, honey.

My name is Sarah.

I come from a kingdom of dust, and no looking back.

https://skepticskaddish.com/2023/03/29/w3-prompt-48-weave-written-weekly/

“Hope is the thing with feathers“,

speaking of her bird, named Hope, poor choice telling me this.

I have been thinking of killing that parrot ever since she told me it’s name, not because of what she said about it, but because the **** thing listens to me talk to myself. I hate that damn bird, it needed exactly what happened to it. It still looks exactly the same as it did before, except for one crucial detail, now hope is dead and stuffed, wonder how long it will take her to figure out she now has a stuffed parrot. Probably as long as it is going to take for me to figure out how to get the **** out of her before she kills me, which is not going to happen, she is not a good fighter.

Oh, look, a window, that was simple enough, looks like your hope is just like me, out the window, or yours is behind it.

https://wordpress.com/tag/dailyprompt-1838

How does death change your perspective?

My perspective is dead itself, or the idea that I have the ability to even have perspective is dead. It died for me when I was eight years old, when I realized I do not live in reality.

Block of Wood

You happened a long time ago, and every day, because you are a metaphor for mental decay.

I am staring at a block of wood, I do not know how I came to be staring at a block of wood, I do not have any knowledge of how long I have been standing here, I do not know what time I started staring at the block of wood, or where it is placed in the universe, or if I am even in the universe at all right now. I am simply staring at a block of wood in the dark, and can’t tell what time it is. It is that rare time of day or night when it is indistinguishable whether it is in fact day or night. I am not sure, I have no perspective anymore. I long ago gave that up because I am constant propelled into a reality that I am not sure of the reality of, so I relate to nothing, which means I have no perspective. This is beginning to change, but goes right back when this happens, and I have to fight my way out of the dark cavern that is the Hell of my mind.

I do not know why I was staring at the block of wood. I just know that I swear, I swear on everything in me, that I began to see the atoms if I focused enough, that made up the wood itself. I know I am insane, that this is all just hallucination, and indication that I am doing something right, because my mind does this to me whenever I make any sort of progress, sends me forwards, backwards, longways, short ways, and to a position of staring at a block of wood and wondering if I can communicate with my cat better orally or through telepathy.

What makes you most anxious?

Time makes me scream, it makes me dream of things that don’t make sense or cents, that is not true liar, you have made plenty of money in time.

Yeah, but I spent it all on dimes.. I traded it in for dimes at the cash machine.

I am such a ****.

My life is a long episode of Jerry Springer.

************************************************************************

I heard that one in my head, and it made me….

Throw up?

No, that was because your stomach is ****ed!

Yeah, because VODKA SUCKS!
Good one.

Clearly.

I congratulate me on a day where I was only an ***hole last night, and complimented random individuals in the food store aggressively.

They seemed confused.

What activities do you lose yourself in?

Re-vision- Soul re-stitching, threads of misery replaced with kindness.

I used to lie, cheat, and steal

In Misery, only would I deal.

Suffering was my main course meal.

I did not eat, I lived on the street, and in pain and suffering I did deal.

I was a cheater, a liar, a thief, if you met me I would make sure you fell beneath…

Me in every endeavor thinking, I was so clever, but really only

HURTING

Me.

Now, I am trying to be different.

ER ER ER
__________________________________________________

Flat line

__________________________________________________

Revive revive revive

_____________________________________________________

I lost my train of thought,

My rhyme scheme is for naught.

_________________________________________

ER ER ER
_________________________________________

I love those around me, it makes me uncomfortable and I use horror to deal with it, because it scares people and makes me feel better because

STAY AWAY I AM SENSITIVE
LIAR LIAR

Who do you think you are?

An addict trying to redeem themselves.

NO ONE CARES.

I do, so I am posting this.

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.

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2023/03/11/weekend-writing-prompt-302-breathtaking/

Breathtaking, most focus on love in this, not theft of life, air stealing theft.

“Wherever they burn books, in the end will also burn human beings.”

– Heinrich Heine

EXPLICIT CONTENT: Post uses poetic analogy for the addict backed into a corner and told to drink, when this happens we sometimes attack like a killer or a vicious dog. This is metaphorical only, I have only ever killed anyone with my silence, not saying anything as my friends died in active addiction. These are allegories in all gory glory.

We are in a basement, a base meant for debasement of everything I have ever come to know to be true about myself. I am looking into the eyes of a woman who I used to know, I still know her, but I am choosing to forget this right now, not now but then.

Rei hands me a bottle, it had booze in it. I think she is handing it to me to drink it, it is everclear, funny name for alcohol that makes you so unclear..

I get pissed, so I put a cloth in it soak it in alcohol, by dipping it in the bottle, the smell of it disgusting, I hate it. I am sickened by the smell and want only to get it off my hands. I light the rag on fire, and she tells me the girl who sits in front of me wants me to drink it. I have been up for five days, and I would have known that what she is saying is not true, had I not been high, and been thinking clearly not thinking under the influence of things that cloud my mind.

I throw the burning bottle at the woman’s feet, Rei thinks I did this to burn the woman alive, and laughs. I was aiming at the book on the floor, the **** had a copy of a book about alcoholism at her feet, hating the irony I want to burn it.

The girl burned alive, because I can’t look in the mirror.

I watched because I couldn’t figure out how to put it out.

We each have one and a half. We made a deal to get more soul in exchange for helping people and we used our gift to manipulate people to get high or drunk or whatever we wanted.

Sounds accurate.

Right. I remembered it last night, think about those guys we met named the squanders.

Strange *****.

Yeah right?

Remember that weird thing they said?

We are the descendants of the kingdom of Saul.

Eerie right?

No, I knew this.

**** you.

Not nice. I am just glad I remembered this, because I think I might be able to do the right thing this time.

So who are you really?

I am you, but more about that later.

Okay. Good night, you deal with this now.

Okay.

Do you reap what you sow? Have you mastered the key of go? 

Have contemplated leaving with act of just say no? 

Please don't say yes, see them die, see them cry, behold sweet miss and misery dies.
Warning: Graphic content and imagery, which speaks of tragic death of addict through self-harming violinist. Read with caution. 

She plays with bone bow, on violin of arm sown with pain and weaved with blood, she cuts into her skin with bone sent from below, not realizing that with every hit of skin with bone sown in attack, what is cut does not grow back

She is in state of instating perpetual attack on own soul by death sown with owned bow in key of oh, no! Her song is so-so. Her pain is more-so. She is an average player, but better self-slayer, bone breaker, she damages her tool, by playing in key of fool, ruled by pain, she paint the night with noise of life slain in blood rain or blood reign, she plays and she paints at the same time, of the death of a generation killed by their own mind, in merciless fire bind, enslaved to addicted mind, tortured soul with song of death, spending life as active in self deception she is ever attending Hell’s reception, soul crushing death inspection.

Her tears are red but read they are too, the fall below and hit her shoes, her shoes were white once now there red, pretty soon, she’ll sure be dead. Wonder if she will see how red her shirt has come to be? Before she is destined to be dead, buried in skin of red, with eyes of death spent on life theft, pained breath and song of left.

I am man with knife that spreads jam on toast instead of man who jams in head the killing knife that was made for bread.

I am man who does not stab but cuts apart, an apple instead of human heart, I have realized with my eyes that see, coming out of insanity, that I do not have to be Amanda I can be free. I am released from human cage, a player now not just on page, I do not have to employ rage, I can instead say this I desire human bliss, I can give love, I can give kiss. I am not supposed to be anything but free to be me. I should have known this from the start but drugs and booze they sedated heart, so I used my name as excuse to die, a perpetual never ending cry out for

MORE MORE MORE

Make yourself a living sore on the heart of yours so that you can be, so safely chained to me, addiction, you see is my maker, my taker, my soul breaker.

I love you so, baby please don’t go. I need you so… I need you please, I am kneeling on bent KNEES
GET ON YOUR KNEES HONEY
MONEY MONEY MONEY
CASH CASH CASH PLEASE

I GET PAID WITH SOUL DISSECTION
I GET PAID WITH VIVISECTION
I BELIEVE IN RESURRECTION

Can it happen for me to, help me God, can you teach me to be more like you instead of Mary? I am sad and this is scary, common God please my soul fix?

It is already I told you this, this is Damien you fool, it’s you. You can do whatever you want to.

So now you know a little more about our parallel universe, Misery, a Hell for those damned to be here, to account for their sins, while in the purging process of their souls. I am being held here for the time being, torturing myself because I did not have my memory entirely before. I was a man possessed by the demonic force of resentment. I am not in any way saying this releases me from responsibility. I am accountable for everything I did. It was me acting under the possession of an inner demon. I think that is why my name is what it is.

I am supposed to learn to get out of my Cain kingdom of Misery and walk back to the Garden of Eden, with Rei, my ray of light, the mercy of my soul from a higher power of forgiveness and mercy. I get it now, that I was buying and selling hellish fire and being a grim reaper for the forces of Hell, that live within the souls of addicts or those damned to a life of addiction to their own pain.

I am speaking out this way, because in the throws of the driving force of desire, I was a passenger in my own body, very much similar to demonic possession.

I hope you understand,

With sincere apologies,

Forever guilty

Damien

I think I am in the process of finally clearing a long term MRSA infection from my body that cost me three finger tips. Most notably half of my thumb on my right hand, which was a ***** because that one was my fault entirely. I refused to go to the hospital because I was enjoying getting high.. I have been an idiot most of my life. I thought I could clear it on my own by using bleach and peroxide, which I used to literally seer a hole into my scalp through which you could see my skull, no lie. I am insane, in my defense… I was very high for all of this, and had no idea that I was literally digging a hole in my head with a pair of pliers.

I am just happy I am not insane today, the further I get away from meth and heroin/crack/acid/booze/painkillers/cocaine the better. I am tired of spending hours trying to kill myself slowly.

You can’t tell I did that, looking at me, because obviously, that matters narcissistic ***.

I don’t know why I felt I needed to share this.

Later Damien

As much it pains me to do it I have to say, that writing out my personal demons helps me preform a sort of soul cleansing. I feel awful about all the things I have allowed happen in front of me, and I hope that my method is not too terrifying for at least certain people. I am just writing what works for me to stay sober every day. I am still the same selfish addict and a lot of this is

FLASH NEGATIVE
FLASH POSITIVE

Meditate

Talk. I am sorry to anyone who is disturbed by it.

I am in the process of working towards being a better person, and I am still an abrasive ****.

Damien

What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.

My name is See Clearly

How do you create sympathy for the unloved man.

You say you are a lunatic with weapon who will KILL THEM WHERE THEY STAND.

And then sympathetic society in its cage so please wait no, don’t touch them no. I see so clearly now, it was me that was the enemy.

I am a horror writer that uses method acting in blog style format to simulate sympathy

Because I am a narcissist that sees clearly how to create empathy.

My name is Rei, well clearly, my name is Amanda, my name is IRRELEVANT.

I am an act put on to show reader what is dealt to the men of the street, hands flung in the air saying don’t worry eat potted meat. I am the bringer of sensation of fixation with death in a society bent to sell theft of the lives of the cost, this is what it costs. It costs the screaming of sad souls on words on page. I am a simulation on the internet of human rage.

I am the forever caged man of society’s garbage can.

None of this is real baby, it is an act of the sensation of

FEEL FEEL

You feel me honey?

Isn’t their reality

Oh, so sunny.

Nobody cares, baby.

I am every man in tent hiding on the street with bent posture and dirty feet. My name is lurker on street eating potted meat. I am the eyes of the despised lurking high in the skies but sinking low, I am the act of sleep in snow. I am please baby, nooooooooooooooooooo!

Did you think it was pretty when you hurt in the city, honey?

WAS IT FUNNY????

ALL OVER MONEY????
ALL THIS OVER THAT?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have no name, I am the human stain. YOU ARE NOTHING. I AM DISTRUSTING YOUR SOUL BECAUSE I WILL SWALLOW YOU WHOLE.

In the crying skies lies lying despise of men dead, with severed head they can’t see.

THEY SEE NOTHING

So distrusting. I have no idea what I am even saying????????????????????

Well, that was interesting. I am bored with it now.

End simulation

sorry kisses, honey

just a narcissist transfixed by the kiss of human sensation.

I am presented with something strange, I have been talking to my wife for the past…. I have no idea actually… I am not very good at keeping track of time… It doesn’t matter. I need to stop being so **** OCD.

Rei is a strange woman. I think I underestimated her in a way, or maybe just thought her to be someone else entirely, and I have to say I am kind of impressed. My daughter came clean to me about something she has been involved in certain things that have drawn the attention of certain individuals who are not the most savory people, and needs my help. My wife advised me to do whatever is necessary to help her, and I think I am going to, not that I have any control over what I do anyway. I am a raving lunatic.

Anyway, I have been told that I have permission to do whatever is necessary to protect my family, up to my discretion.

I will be back on here to update you in whatever way I can about what happens in the upcoming hours.

Yours,

Damien

(TRIGGER WARNING: POETIC ANALOGY MURDER TO FACILITATING CONTINUED DRUG USE)

I have tied up the human beings in my life, bound sticks to their legs, so they always stand the way I like them too, uncomfortably, like me the pacing madman. I force them to stand and then manipulate their behavior with teasing or reward or blunt force or sword, screaming

Come forward, in whisper because it is oddly haunting, they dance for me, slaves that they are to their fire fueled existence, oh the dance of the dead men who would do anything to defend.

HEROIN

They want you more than anything my sweet, dark or light poison forever poised in the dance with me, their psycho active animator, tie down to stick mad puppeteer of my multi-layered sin bound Misery hell, a miser of silent screaming, I collect the voices of the damned and ask them to sing for me because I exist in a world of severed tongues, that I play with to make them make

Sounds. They can’t except in my head.

What did we do to deserve this?

You went to the wrong guy on the wrong corner in the wrong town, and didn’t realize that when you asked for something to bring me down you were asking me to kill you if I wanted, if you didn’t have enough money to fund my habit and make your life worth my time, and I was not sorry that a dime isn’t worth a phone call to mommy or daddy or whoever you needed to call to make it okay for you to never come home because you made the sad choice to buy from the wrong psycho on the wrong day at the wrong time in his psycho delusion that he was God.

I was the King of Sodom, and I executed those who didn’t amuse me any more with the impunity of a man who knew long ago he was damned and didn’t care, but I am trying to be better now, I am trying to no longer squander the lives of those around me, including me.

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

I just had an intensely spiritual experience. It was brought to my attention, I am not going to get into the dirty details of how, that I say concerning things and worry people. I forget that people worry about me as a result of my speech, because I am not very present a lot of the time when I am around other people. I am trying to learn to be, but I have never been very mentally aware of the existence of other people on a continuous basis. It always made me uncomfortable to have anything like continuity in human relationships and I forget a lot of the time, that I am the one who is different than other people not the other way around.

I was reminded by this person today, that if I am going to keep trying to change myself that my actions need to factor in the effect that I am having on other human beings. I am working on some kind of compromise between this an emotional honesty, because I have always been unable to see the existence of shades of grey. I am blind to something that is not black or white because I am so focused on selfish pursuits, I tunnel vision look at things, and miss the grey entirely. I think this may be one of the reasons I have always been so alone, and I am working on trying to change that, but it is hard.

I have never seen anyone as more than a coin purse, or punching bag, free meal or dispenser for whatever I wanted to feel. I think I have treated everything like a drug, and that is not fair to anyone, even me.

Later

Damien

If you like opera and metal, this band is great. The lead singer is an ex-opera singer. They have very weird lyrical themes. I like them because they are strange and a lot of their songs talk about insanity. They are ****ing excellent live too.

I am learning that admitting there is something higher than me, which isn’t hard because I am not ever high anymore is bringing me peace, no offense to anyone offended which is ridiculous for me to say because this whole thing reads like a caged man lamenting insanity anyway. Religion is bringing me peace and I am insecure so take it or leave it. There is a saying in AA, eat the meat and spit out the bones. I like the bones. Obviously, and me thinking there is something else in this world than this world, keeps my inner darkness in check. Shot to self-pride, taken. Okay I feel better now.

Damien

If you look at this, a picture which I altered to imitate what I saw a couple moments ago, you will notice at the bottom the grey part of the screen, this is not what I saw when looking in the camera. I am insane, so there is a large chance, I just incurred another 250$ down the ******* drain. There is a chance, that the blue light I am seeing in the replacement of the grey you see is not there, and that my wife is going to kill me for taking a hammer to a motel room wall.

I like this band, they are weird, and very distracting from the current wall situation.

But, I swear I didn’t put a hole in it… I thought about it and the hole in the wall appeared and it is not like the grey at all but a hole into a hollow area. I am done with it for now, so I moved a picture over it and I am hoping Rei doesn’t notice.

Later

The idiot

PS I have no self control.

I swear this is not some sort of camera trick, this is what I just saw when I was hearing my daughter move around the room and did not see anyone, and I swear I am losing it. You see that right? I know camera trick… but no…. I went into the room and no person there, she was not supposed to be home, and yet I saw her in the room in the mirror. I swear, and it has all started since that weird party, like before that she was doing the same kind of stuff that I do, but I don’t completely disappear, or at least I don’t think I do. The thing that sucks about the whole thing is I have no idea if it is just me being insane or not. I can’t ask anyone because they will think I am insane.. so I am left to wonder, what the…….

I am thinking it has something to do with the rest of all this, so I will get back to you on all of it… but for now… what the hell….

More eerie, the text on the top of the graphic that is what I have been hearing in my head, or seeing, whatever, as read out letters or visual letters whenever I look at her. Doesn’t sound good.

I am keeping it to myself for the second. The most eerie thing, was the color in the mirror the weird blue light around her, not like the picture, just a ghostly aura, around her.

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2023/02/28/photo-challenge-455/

I am reminded of you my love, whenever I look in the mirror, I see your plaster cast face on the ground, a mere imitation that was the excellence of your bitter tasting flesh, preserved so haphazardly, and cruelly with unforgiving Formaldehyde. I did not kill you, I thought of it often, stalking out your house for days and nights. I wonder did it hurt when he got there first? If it was a he… wasn’t it… it wasn’t me… I did not get to taste you until after death, kissing your face the skin caressing plaster, afraid as I was to touch your deathly form with my hands, I must not print myself, on you my goddess, no, I only took a form of your face, that sits now so forgotten on the floor, how I long to be the one who took your life, and tasted the sweet death that danced so playfully on your lips that now only taste like a lie told to a man that was there before me.

I caught your form, and it will forever rest here, on the floor of my abandoned castle, in the forgotten wretched stinking walls of this building lays the caste form of a goddess that would have been forever mine, had I been there in time. I loved you, even though I just danced with you in the form of plaster kissing your blue face. Blue and grey you will stay my love, I am sorry we never met, I would have loved to be your tragic end, my sweet blue faced wonder. Good night, my sweet one, may your bluish tint dance in the stars. I will see your cast form everyday, but you, you have gone away, forever, I will smell the sweet stench of the last decaying of your ever pleasant flesh.

Now it will in an imaginary world because I covered it in soda which is probably bad for staff infections. But, No. And… I was going to say I don’t know I am not a doctor, but then I remembered that jerk used to say that to you.

Thank you for remembering that.

I have to, I have your memory. Did I at least make you laugh?

Yes, but.. I’m really scared. I don’t want my leg to get chopped off.

Is your whole leg swollen?

No.

Then why would they take your whole leg?

I know, but…

But what?

Why is this happening.

You don’t want me to answer that.

Yes, I do.

Because you are were an intravenous drug user who lived on the streets for years drinking and smoking and not taking care of yourself.

You’re right. I didn’t want you to answer that.

It’s my leg too.

You have your own legs now.

No I don’t they are still yours too just in another dimension, because we are the same person.

I don’t get it.

I know, it’s like you are a horse with four legs but only two of them can get staff.

So if one of my legs get cut off can it be your leg?

No. It would be both our leg.

That makes no sense.

I know, I don’t get it either.

Don’t worry, it doesn’t help.

Then why do you do it too?

Because I have no self control so I try to fake it by controlling the external.

Why not just control yourself, isn’t that easier.

I don’t know, can you do that?

No.

There you go.

I was convinced for a second that someone was watching my house, because it felt like there was someone watching my house.

Was it you?

Yes.

I woke up from a compulsion to check to see if someone was going to attack my family the middle of the night. This is Amanda by the way, and I am saying that to myself more than anything so I don’t bounce in and out of multi-dimensional con·scious·ness.

Hey, Amanda did you think it was funny, how that was defined as

the state of being awake and aware of one’s surroundings

the awareness or perception of something by a person.

the fact of awareness by the mind of itself and the world. (dictionary.com)

Is it just me and my insanity or does that definition not seem right? Or am I looking for a philosophical definition not available on dictionary.com

I am bored. Moving on.

Now, Amanda is starting to sound like me. So we are going to start using names as place holders so she can keep track of her own thoughts.

That sounds like a good idea, a$%^&*%.

That is not my name.

I am not saying your name.

One of us.

Okay, Damien. One of us.

I think your mom likes me better than you.

I think my mom knows I am you. So how’s you’re life?

No disdain that time, wow. Less of an %^$%*&^. I fell asleep on the ground in front of the computer, and then woke up and went into the room with Rei and she told me to come check on you and now we are here.

She told you to talk to me, sweet she doesn’t resent me anymore.

I know isn’t it great. Now I don’t have to lie about who I am talking to on the internet.

You never had to lie about who you were talking to on the internet.

Not everyone does it Amanda style, Meh meh.. this is my house and you can get out if you don’t like it. You know Kim doesn’t talk to her because you kicked her out on New Years Eve and she had to sleep in Ryan’s car.

Better, then sleeping in my house, Damien.

Was it?

I would have drank all night and yelled at her.

Isn’t that what you did anyway?

Yeah, but when she was in Ryan’s car at least the cops came and threatened to drunk tank me and I had to stop.

You are such an &**)$%^.

Thanks.

Why?

Because I think it is bad for my daughter’s self-esteem.

True. What about your self-esteem?

Are you seriously asking if my self esteem is completely image based? I am good at lots of things.

So I guess your self-esteem is good.

I hold myself in very high esteem.

You must have very strong arms.

Why?

To hold yourself all the time.

Screw you.

I was talking about your ego.

I known and still screw you. I am trying…

Anything cool happen today?

I talked online to a jerk and my daughter made some cool paintings, and I didn’t kill my neighbor, even though he has it coming and better watch out because I am going to throw that garbage can through his car window.

Is this the same guy?

I have no idea.

What did this one do?

Look at me wrong at 5 am. I didn’t like his weird eye contact. He seemed like he knew something he shouldn’t know.

Like what?

Like that I am squatting in a motel and am not named Amanda, because it’s your credit card I am using.

So that is why my credit is ruined…,

Your credit is ruined because you spent 20,000 on drugs.

Your credit is ruined because you spent 20,000 on drugs.

It was your money, not mine and you let me.

I used a steak knife to cut up pound cake into little pieces

and left it on the table which is stupid because

Now it is on the table

Taunting me

to use it to slash the tires of garbage can $^&*$%

Why would you use a steak knife to cut up pound cake?

To show it whose boss

It’s pound cake, made by a person, it doesn’t have a boss, and if it did it wouldn’t be you.

It is now.

You can’t be the boss of something you killed.

Watch me, I did it to you.

I’m not dead.

The part of you that resents themselves is.

Do you know how dangerous it is to light off fireworks while playing with sparklers while poking a bull in the eye that you painted pink after dosing it with sedative and draping flowers over the horns with a snake on your hand?

No.

Neither do I.

But, I wonder what it would be like to do that sometimes.

It sounds like a good way to kill yourself.

It does doesn’t it?

Why?

Excellent newspaper headline because it would be really long and the editor would not know what to do.

They would just be like this is so oddly specific who would do this?

You would do that.

No I wouldn’t. Because I haven’t, and if I did I wouldn’t tell anyone about it before I did it.

You would tell them after you did it?

Yes.

So you already did it?

No.

So now you can’t do it.

Yeah, I was telling on myself. I was thinking about doing it today.

Do you have all the things you need to do it.

None of them, that’s why I put it on here instead.

If you didn’t put it on here you would have to do it?

Yes.

What if you couldn’t find the things.

That’s why it is on here.

Makes sense.

With the intention of mentioning that just in time this ray of light from the sun or the child who lives in us through grace of God… meaning me and damien are supposed to do something i see clearly now and that is why i have two spirits thank God I saw the rei of light just in time to see clearly.

I have been trying to write that paragraph for 5 years, I figured it out finally while chasing my cat, with Damien’s help at the cat chasing, not the figuring that out. He already knew that, he just said that quieter than other things.

No I just said it over and over when you were really high and not listening.

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 am looking for him, if anyone who reads this lunatics blog I am looking for him.

I think I made a grave mistake in trusting him and I am using this only as a means to find him.

I want nothing to do with him.

Diane

I am okay with being the holder, I like holding. I have become accustomed to dealing with customs. I am okay with hell, I guess, and have become accustomed to the eternal infernal quest of my damned soul running from devils lived and imagined, and real and un-present, but

I resent the presenting of the present eternity. I resent its presence because I am weak and reek of cruelty, and I don’t want to have to ask to be saved, I don’t want to acknowledge I will die, because that means I lived at all, and

If I am honest

Honing street truths to acquire mind altering substances is no way to live, and I judge me, so how can I expect forgiveness for anything? How can I expect forgiveness? You simply ask. I don’t like asking and being told no.

I don’t like waiting for anything. Pride.

Maybe that’s why it is a deadly sin. Maybe that’s why it is to be given up through meditation, maybe that is why it is not practiced by any person who is good. I practice pride every day, in my ripping and tearing and patching consciousness of wash rinse repeat cruelty.

I don’t know how to stop, but I am trying.

Enough of that.

I was just going to write something that is untrue, I have to keep reminding myself that I did not in fact kill Rei. At times, I could swear that I remember every detail of what I did to her, and at times I forget she is dead at all, but I cannot seem to remember anything that fits with the story that I am being spoon fed by Diane. I am not sure why, but something about it doesn’t sit well with me. It doesn’t seem real, maybe it is just that I am coming close to being happy, actually happy. I am not good at that, but I wouldn’t know because I don’t really have much memory of anything, never really have. I just have flashes of things I think may have happened. I am truly the blindest man I know.

Anyway, I do not know if…. let’s say just as a matter of investigation, if I killed her, why do I not remember it? I think I usually remember that kind of thing specifically. I know I wanted to kill her… I just don’t know. Something about it is strange.

Keep you posted.

Damien

I am sorry I keep writing on here, whoever you are, but when I am on here, it feels like I am talking to someone instead of just pacing around this room feeling like I want to rip my skin off. I am really afraid. I hate to admit that, but I don’t like how this feels, and I have nothing to ground me anymore. I am not talking to… I can’t remember her name right now. I don’t think I killed her. I would remember if I killed her. I just forgot about her. I just don’t care anymore. I don’t care about any of this, and I feel like I am a ball in a pin ball machine. My head hurts. I am tired, but I can’t sleep because I am really high, and I don’t know why I keep smoking this stupid shit. I want to go to sleep, but I don’t want to wake up and not know what I did while I was sleeping.

I wish I had a friend. I wish I hadn’t killed my friends. I wish I was a different person.

I threw a pair of hands out of a hot air balloon. It was one of the strangest things I had ever seen. I do not know how I got in the hot air balloon, as I had been up for several days, but Diane was with me, and did not know I had the hands in my backpack. I did not either, which is strange because they smelled disgusting. I threw them out while Diane was not looking.

I found this weird graphic of this rainbow man on the computer this morning. I am thinking this is who the hands belonged to, and maybe I got the idea from his hands being up in the air in the photograph that is above. I still have to figure out if it is Diane’s balloon or not. I want to use it again. It was an excellent and anonymous way to get rid of something.

Later

Damien

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

Which is strange, because I swear that I only fell asleep a moment..I don’t have a watch, but I feel it. He has not been gone long, and certainly not long enough to be completely out of sight. I panic, and sit for a second, trying to keep a hold of myself. I must not freak out. He will be back in a second I tell myself. I am freaking out for no reason, I tell myself. I know something is wrong. I know it, and I can’t tell you why. I do not know what is going on, but it is something different than has ever gone on before, and even if he returns I am not sure, if things will ever be the same, and that terrifies me. What have we done? What have we done?

Have we done enough to warrant whatever this is? The answer to this is yes, he and I both know this. We know this, and we run, chased from cover of darkness to cover of darkness, wanting nothing but each other’s company while we slowly die of madness. I am not sure if we will…

I look up, I was talking to myself.

“Oh, you are awake, I went for a walk,” He nervously laughs, looking down at his feet, which no longer have shoes on them.

“What happened to your shoes?” I ask with concern that seems a little bit too motherly, and I cast my eyes to the ground, ashamed.

“I…. don’t know…” He looks back at me, and I can see that he is shaking slightly.

“Come here,” He comes without me having to ask again, and we don’t speak for the rest of the night.

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 am standing with him, underneath a net, and I am overjoyed to be not in motion. I wish I could live under this with him.

I think of weird things. I am starting to feel differently about everything. I like our life, as unconventional as it is, and I think there is a certain kindness in what we do, releasing the writhing souls from the damned treks of life they populate. They exist in a state of misery and do not know it. Their grabbing hands, desire only the things we possess, the sweet poison that is the populating force surging through my thread like veins. I envy them sometimes, but then, I don’t. I look up at the moon, that is his face, it’s ghastly glow that haunts my every footstep.

“Rei, let’s go,” He whispers, and touches my cheek. His hand is cold. I kiss his hand and he pulls his fingers away quickly.

“Don’t. They are dirty. I….” He stops in mid-sentence.
“What?”

“Run. Now.”

We run down a hill and find a tunnel, which we begin to walk towards, it is dark, and I am scared. I grab his hand, and he squeezes mine, not releasing it. I do not know what or who we are running from, but for the first time in a long time. I am afraid.

I am on my knees for you

Begging, baby, please tell me what to do.

What do you need from me? I only desire to be

Everything you need, with every step I take, planned with precision

To do what you say. I desire only for you not to go away, for then where

Would that leave me? How would I get what I need? We are a team, inhaling

Shared steam, and dreams of the same GODDAMN DREAM!

No kill or damn it I am leaving, it is me who you have been deceiving…

This is all about you…. everything you do.. I am present in nothing….

BITCH! SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH OR I WILL RIP OUT ALL YOUR TEETH!!

I am misery’s wreath. I am a decoration of pain, I live in utter disdain, but I have an addicted brain, that thrives on the drugs, that with his hand he shoves in mine. I am not a murderous type, I am simply addicted to strive. I am a consumer of poison and poised for any fight. I need what you gives me you see, and if you

MAKE ME SET IT AGAIN I’LL SHOOT OUT YOUR KNEES!

Behind tall bush she stood, it was no good. We aimed to get her, because she didn’t pay, well in truth just got away. It was not supposed to be that way. She was supposed to lay, dead with no money, she thought it was funny. She thought she could hide. She still fucking died. You should hear how she cried. How she screamed how she begged, when we cut off her leg. How she fought wrought with pain. How she complained.

“Oh, weak little flower, whom we will devour. You are so pretty, though your plan was so shitty. Did you think you would escape us, running to passing bus? It comes at 12:30. It’s 12:35. Too bad, you must die,” He laughed and pulled her from behind the bush and kicked her in the face. No one was around, which was strange given the time of day….

I am wondering why you thought, in plan that you wrought, in your pretty little head that you could avoid your obvious fate. It’s not because you missed bus, that you are going to lay dead in gutter.

“BITCH SHUT YOUR MOUTH! DO I FUCKING STUTTER?”

It is because I want your organs, and my aim torture, I will stop at nothing, until you are dead whore.

Your soul we devour.

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.