Lack of Clarity

I just made myself laugh for five seconds, that is most of the reason for this post.

I don’t know why we think the world is going to fall apart continuously.

I think it is because it was falling apart for so long.

Good point, but it isn’t anymore right?

It feels like it is still, so is it or is it not?

It isn’t, it just feels like it. Did you ever think it was slightly strange to worry about punctuation while doing this to yourself?

No.

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Kiss me, baby.

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

Who were you then?

Who are you now?

I am swirling chaos, I am up and down.

Timeless, Time Less, Less Time, Time Less

Do you see time?

Does it see you?

It is present in all things you do.

I am a negative, I am an item.

I am time, the world re-arranged.

I am strange.

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

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

What is the legacy you want to leave behind?

Color me kind, color me quick, bring back my colors, make my colors stick.

Meditate on kindness, not on the dark, brick back the sunshine,

Do not rip out your own heart.

Speak kindly of gladness, bring out bright ways, learn from my sadness, and my wayward way.

Color me kind

Color me quick

Bring back my colors

Make my colors

Stick

Meditate

On kindness

Not on the dark

Bring back the sunshine

Don’t rip out

Your own heart

Speak only of gladness

And of bright days

Don’t chase out gladness

Speak of bright ways.

I strive for attention, because I am arrogant, and self involved, I am not trying to do this, it is not my resolved mission, I am just used to being ignored, so I do this because I am alone, and to be self assured, if there is nothing else from me to be learned, please take my sadness, and so in life turn, away from what I did, because for you I want, everything I do not have.

I want for you everything I do not have, all that makes you glad, instead of insane, and so very sad, and mad.

Her face was kissed by the light, bathed in sun, so bright

She was kissed by sun, and tattooed by shade, her skin bathed in light, and graced by its going away, she was covered with mist in times of rain, never feeling human pain.

I danced with her once, under the moon, her face made me cry, her love a monsoon, the deepness of her eyes, feeling like madness, bringing out my inner sadness, like caverns to the soul, her eyes were so deep, staring into your face, baby, made me weep.

I loved her for a minute, a second, but then, I was thrown back to the shore, by the wave of defense.

Oregon, or your gone, Or I am gone, and you never left

I am so very safe, because you are in your place, and I am in mine, paranoia, put in it’s place.

You are in my mind all the time.

I need to meditate on something else, but I do this instead, because I like to make sure I do things all the way, so I am stepping on my self- ass er tion.

I am self-assertion, reality desertion, I am dying because I have to in my owner, this is illustration, to show my owner, that I am bad, even though sometimes my owner is glad to have me… because my owner is insane.

I am. I am. I am.

Look at me, oh so very free, look at me.

I 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.

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

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

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

What is your problem?

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

I spit green fire. I am beautiful. I am a super human, born of strength.

Is that supposed to be me? Loser.. it doesn’t look like me or anyone we know..

I painted you in a way you hate.

This isn’t even painted, it is a digital image re-touch thing.

Don’t you hate stupidity??

Yes.

Double win.

You have nothing of mine, because you do not need it, you are so divine, need no refining touch, so I painted you badly, sadly, tragically so, I love you, though I don’t know you, never will, so sad, too bad, my sweet princess, we will never go to the far below, because I am trying to get over…

Over and over and over, up and out of the of the Hell, that is life without, anyone but me, I do not…

Yes, you do liar.

I am.

I know this, that is why I said it.

We are doing the same thing we used to do at the bar, but this time we are alone, without other people doing it too, and without alcohol or drugs… how does it feel?

Like I am cutting myself off at the knees, but I kind of like it?

Good… me too.

I wonder if this will ever get better…

I don’t think it can get worse than this, so I think we will either die, or it will get better… or it will stay just this bad forever and ever…

How bad is this?

I don’t know, it has always been this… so how bad is it really?

I am still alive? I guess that means it is okay enough…

Whining is so unattractive it can’t be read, it is invisible instead.

Isn’t it lovely, isn’t it great?

So sorry baby, I can’t relate, I am addicted to madness, to pain and slow death, that is what I have been given.

I call it time theft.

This is my life which I was given, from the time I was born, ticking time clock was ticking. I am to be thankful, I am to be glad, I am to serve everyone, because there lives are sad, I am to shut up, I am to be down.

I am to always smile, only laugh, never frown.

I am to speak kindly.

I am sorry that I cannot do, I hate everything around, sorry, baby even you.

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Miss labeled

I want different cards, or I want to quit playing. I tried all my life in every way, to quit playing, every attempt came with failure, and people glad I was alive, while I sat like always wanting to off my life.

---

Label me chaos,

I am a game of chicken played in red and blue, not green, but blue.

I don’t know what to do, except scream, because I don’t want any of this, never did, never will, and no matter how much I try, I am not allowed to quit playing.

Label me doubt, label me contention, because I love to scream and shout. I love the human word, because I in perpetual fight to be not heard, because you know what I really don’t care.

Fried Chicken

Label death, they already did, at eight, already dead, ticking, ticking, so thankful, so grateful, so sad, too bad, already gone, gone, gone.

---

Bright

I lived my whole entire life, on rock bottom from eight to now, on gravel, and sometimes jagged rock, crawling up. I was born with something, for those who do not know that gave me a life expectancy of 21.

21, 21, 21

Wish sometimes, that I had lost not won.

My life is all silver linings, and people say I should be thankful, greatful, for what, more time than 21 years?

Because I am somehow supposed to be thankful to have less time than most people???

Gravel. I am so fond of you. I know everything about every curvature, every outline, of the pleasant rocks at the bottom of the path that is my life, which I went off, because I am sorry…

I don’t like cutting my feet on rocks very much.

I was so glad to meet you.

I will not write ya, other than sarcastically.

I am aside, because I hide behind narcissism, a deadly schizm, made by fear, I am not able to hear anything critical at all, I will cut my ****ing ears off…

I hate myself enough…

What happened to you that day, when I didn’t care enough to come find you in New York, I was your phone a friend, and I am afraid, always, when I think of you, that you went back home, because of me, because I didn’t care.

We were each others only friends, for a time, albeit short, like my other friends

INABILITY TO MAINTAIN LONG-TERM RELATIONSHIPS

That goes for you too, ****.

I wasn’t the one talking.

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

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

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

I don’t remember really.

Write about a time when you didn’t take action but wish you had. What would you do differently?

You were right

I was wrong

Just an addict

A tragic song

Just a loser

Who you tried to save

Not your lover

Not your slave

Tell me your story

Make it all about you

I ran in fear from someone I thought I loved

I ran away

I ran away from push and shove.

I ran away did not fight back

Was not strong enough to attack.

I ran away

I was afraid

His hands they struck me over and over starting with my eye and then right in the middle of my mouth as I was talking, conversation turned far south, trying to stop me, I am sure now he was, from moving at all, he spoke of love.

Don’t listen to me, I am clearly out of my mind, can’t you see, I am without light, without Rays of light

He said he wanted to protect me from myself, told me to stop using, get back on shelf.

She says she is afraid of me?

She says she is afraid of me?

She says she is afraid of me?

So he struck me in my eye, and I pretended loudly to cry. Spitting blood in his stupid face

Please stop.

ERASE ERASE ERASE

Please leave no trace

Of him in my mind

Erase erase erase

I hate him please take him out of my mind

Erase Erase Erase

His name was Rei. His name was Rei. His name was Rei.

Just in time

Justin time

Just in time

Rei Clearly, you are so very divine, how I loved you my Rei of Light

How I loved you, Oh, ray so bright.

I am watching you

And it makes me so very sad, to see you standing in a place so bad… painted as it is with death of day, a place I am sure from which you should stay far away, given such a pretty face, so tragic it would be for it to be stuck in this space, the place where we have come to haunt, to murmur curses and sadly taunt, the beings that come from above ground land, where I am sure your sweet form must be from and stand on the lands that are populated by better folk, not us my dear, who down here sulk.

There is still time, you can still turn around, you don’t have to be a lurker on this tragic ground, you need not listen to my partner’s voice, just run away, you have a choice.

Above Ground and the Sound of the Lurkers Below, Or the Slow Shouting of GO

She’s got cash, you fool, let’s help her out, she might help us, if we don’t make her go without, so shut your mouth, don’t make her run, come on, dumb ****, let’s have some fun.

Now I am sorry baby, but to get out of here, you are going to need a guide and she is right here, my friend, my friend, she is great, a true sweetheart, with such a pretty face, I’ll be right back, and you will laugh, she looks like me, she is my other half, she will make sure you will be fine and away you’ll go. I am someone you would rather not know, I am sure you will be just fine, look here don’t cry, sweet one, take a beer, go away, baby I am not good with your kind, I am resigned to live in life of decline, so no I don’t have what you thought you need………..

Must not sleep…

I love you baby, sweetie, honey

You make me feel so very funny. It is about you sweetheart, not about the money, I will do anything you say, you just have to make sure that you

I am the ever told lie, I am the act of why why why

I am everything you do being inconsequential, I am the consequences of a life lived as

Ball and chain Ball and Chain Ball and Chain

No not him not him not him

I am addicted to

ACID REIGN

ACID REIGN

Down

Down I…. hope I don’t

Hit the ground, hit the ground, must be up up up

Please don’t let my eyes

Shut. I must remain awake, for fear of what will happen when I am asleep. I can’t watch who is coming on the street if I sleep, please don’t let me fall asleep.

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

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

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

I am addiction

I aim for the heart

I take everything you love

I am the act of push and shove

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

This kills me

I think that was the biggest dig at my non-existant self-pride I have gotten all day……..

Yeah……I feel the same way……

I don’t even have anything to say, see the above… **** this…

You are not about Rei, you are about

Please can I stay for a little while longer, I don’t want to do this right now… I am not ready for this right now, I have never done this alone.

Everytime you did this you did it alone, idiot.

Everytime you do anything you are by nature doing this by yourself.

Please, let me be alright.

I am painted with disdain

I am scorched by fire

I am burned with acid reign

I can’t spell words correctly…

I am double meaning, always seeming, clearly gleaning lack of confidence decently descending always condescending attack of sole of shoe that is

YOU

YOU

YOU

You will be as alright as it is in the cards to be, the cards are not your cards…

BORROWED TIME

Do you like dimes? You’re reality and everything you believe is mine. mine. mine. mine.

Dove wings

Dove wings

Dove wings

Dove wings

Dove wings

Dove wings

Dove wings

You made a deal with me…

You made a deal in exchange for your own life.

That is insanity, I did no such thing.

Deals with the devil

That is just lived backwards.

I am not lived backwards

Forewords

Four words

Leave me alone, please.

You will not survive this time.

Not four words, you lose.

I am borrowed time, I am my life is not mine, I am sing songy bull****.

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.

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

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

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

Lens painted by lack of clarity.

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

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

I forgot what you had done because I hated myself.

Forgot how you had found me

Forgot who I used to be

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

I am so sorry……….

I hate admitting that you helped me……….

I hate admitting that I failed…

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

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

I still resent myself for being an addict

I still resent myself for being an alcoholic

I am working on this

But I know now

I love you for what you did for me

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

You are also not who I painted you to be

That was a reflection of my own weakness

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

I

I am the painting of a perfect day, that is not perfect now, but the ideal, that exists, and is the possibility of beginning to feel

I am the idea that one day I will be, because I can see, so I can come out.

I am the feeling of not having to feel perpetually without.

I feel hope, I feel peace, even if I scream and cry, I can feel the possibility of something if I keep going and continue to be honest with myself,

I will discover what else is out there, I am not always stuck here.

I am the ability to see forward motion, if anything that is what is different, I am may at sometimes, be chaotic, pacing itself, runing or chasing, but I see forward motion, a direction, a towards, not a forlorn staring, always and forever into nothing. I am at least focused on somewhere not nowhere.

I used to be nowhere, desiring nothing, wanting only more nowhere, because nowhere had things not found in somewhere, but only in the perpetual pause of nowhere, justified,

By distilled misery, put on ice or intensified, and injected into situations to be experienced rapidly, thinking that it would feel better slowly or quickly eating my own death, than experiencing life on life’s terms.

If nothing else I see this now, I see clearly now, and I may cry, or scream, or fight the universe, I may have a hissy fit the whole time, but I am no longer diluting my reality so I can consume it shot by shot.

Addict Resentment Haunted House

Haunted House

Standing in front of the mirror, as a child, not right now, not here.

Well, obviously, you are not a child right now, right here.

Are you sure?

Yes, even though you act like one, you are not one.

Unfortunately, because I would be the funniest child ever.

That already happened, and we were pretty funny, if terrifying is funny.

I am the creature in the bushes.

I am my own nightmares.

I am denial of self.

I am life spent on shelf.

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I am the ghostly figure in my childhood night terrors.

I am a child standing in front of a mirror, staring into space, or looking in a mirror, or staring into space.

I see my face now, not then but now.

I was afraid of this person that looked kind of like me, but older that I said had done things I would never do, because I was eight and doing heroin was bad.

I think now that I might have been able to see me now, but that is probably some delusion or something.

I am running from my own reflection, because I hate being my own reflection.

Shatter

I used to run from someone, who also ran from me.

I was blind and couldn’t see the person chasing me was me, and the person I was chasing was the same. The person I stood laughing on the corner with, buying tragic things with, and staining my soul with was always my own reflection.

I am the fear of shedding light.

Two and the same, one and the same, not a stain, but a reflection.

Color me, abstract, color me dark.

Color me so I don’t see in the dark.

I am lack of sight.

I am out of mind.

I am sole of shoe, stuck in gum of decline.

I am no longer, but I look back in time.

I am sole of shoe stuck in what is still left in mind.

Every time I went looking for missing things, that they stole, every time I went looking for missing things that they stole

I was looking for missing things I had already used or lost.

They, I was the cost of a tragic decision to deny who I was for half my life.

I am better now, that I am no longer denying who I was and am.

I used to hate you, standing over here, seeing you as potential cash.

I am the ever bounced check on my own soul.

No longer bouncing, just burned and tossed in the trash.

I am in debt to you, for having fed someone with hand-outs.

The light is blinding, but maybe it will get less so if I stop walking in the dark.

I look at you, and you seem so peaceful, glittering with love for one another, in a way I have never had love for anyone or anything.

Your laughs and voices telling stories of times shared, not taken.

Glances shared paint your lives with love and joy, which I don’t understand, not yet, being a glance stealer, not a glance giver.

I am not good at seeing anything, but at looking and casting doubt and disdain, and living in pain, an excuse for cowardly escape.

I am seeing you now, and realizing you always have been stronger than I ever was, because you need eachother, which means you can depend on eachother.

You look to eachother for strength instead of finding strength in sticks and stones.

A lone, Alone, A lone, Alone

I miss you, person who I thought was real, but what I really miss was never real to begin with, the idea of being loved at all, ever, which was never real at all.

You were not real, you were never who I thought you were, because I was never real, not before now, so this is and has always been, all my fault, which doesn’t matter, but I keep thinking it, that I tragically hurt my own self.. I have a problem with the word feelings, I don’t like admitting I have those.

---

And now this

---

Please help me, everything that is above me, because I am done with being angry…

---

And now this

---

There is a flower, that exists somewhere, in the jungle, that I need to find, because it will cure a disease of my mind.

I don’t know what is, or what it does, just simply that it exists somewhere and that I am looking for it.

Okay, what?

That is all? That is all you have? What?

Yeah, what?

Did I wake you up?

No, I am sitting right there with you, letting you use my hands.

That’s good, thank you. I don’t like being alone.

I am right here.

Retraction: Anytime I think anything resentment based I hear a ghost moving around in my basement.

See below for resentment.

I am a ghost, that hosts hell, I am the act of it is just as well, which is not well at all, I made you small,

For once.

I hate you, and when I look at you, I feel it, even though I don’t know you, because you look like her, by being the same in any way with her, even though you were not her ever, because she was not even her ever.

I hate you because I hate me, I am not you and you are not me.

I hate you because I am not and have never been you, and you don’t see me and I don’t see you, and we exist in a world of blindness.

I hate you because I wish I could not.

I am sorry.

I want off this ride.

I want to know when all the consequences of my life will be over.

I want to know anything at all.

I want control and I know this is not possible.

But I want it so bad.

What? I am really stressed out about this tooth thing.. I am the one dealing with it most of the time now, so leave me alone please.

Okay, fine.

I think I am doing pretty good. I haven’t lost my mind yet, and have only been slightly pacing around talking to myself.

I think you are doing pretty good too.

Thank you.

I appreciate you dealing with things I can’t.

The creature under the bed is me

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

I now remember something hilarious.

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

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

Facts.

You are in every memory I have for seven years.

Staring at me, with hatred

Hate red

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

But

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

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

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

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

To the author, this is a taste of your own medicine.

I am talking to myself.

I am aggressive because I am afraid of myself. I

Fear imperfection because I am in love myself

I am a narcissistic

Per so n on s h elf

The troll lives outside, and is invisible. It is not me this time.

It lurks in everything, in potentiality, for always and forever.

It really sounds like you.

Shut up and go with me.

Okay, fine.

It is under anything that causes

DISCOMFORT

DISCOMFORT

Stop that now.

Good Job.

I now you have a thing about the number three, and you are not divine, so stop it.

Okay.

Realization: Real Situation: Realizing Fixation

I am sticks and stones,

I break bones, but I am better at poking eyes of those who don’t know how to leave well enough

WELL ENOUGH

My cage is an internal cage, a cage of lost mind, of entwined, with the vines of furious design.

WELL ENOUGH

WELL ENOUGH

ENOUGH

WELL

Alone.

There is someone there, who has bad intentions, because they are simply there, and everyone has bad intentions.

There is someone there, and I don’t like them, because they have bad intentions, because everyone has bad intentions.

I am afraid of myself.

I am afraid of being back in padded rooms, which I have been in before.

I am afraid that whenever you help me, it is one step away from the constraints on my arms to help myself.

Control myself, accept the things I can’t change…

I ruined my own life, and I am trying to fix it, and people are trying to help me, stop ripping their heads off with words.

I think everyone is out to get me, because I am an idiot, or that is what it feels like sometimes… both of those things alternating not simultaneous, never simultaneous, unfortunately…. not yet at least. I can never remember when under insane delusion, that I am prone to insane delusions and that as much as it seems like people are out to get me…. just realized why my ex’s hated that wording… they are not out to get me..

That kind of sucks.. because now I have to admit I was ***hole fighting the universe my whole life. I did the right thing and apologized, and it was very humiliating.

Peace.

Glow with protected from self

I am so happy, that no matter how much back tracking my mind does, that the internal panic thing is cured eventually by something that is not selfish. It is giving me such a level of inner peace, to realize that my life is not condemned forever.

I am thinking about this now, because this is the part of the night that is dominated by fear, which still to a large degree dominates it, but not as badly, because I keep coming back to the fact that none of this is in my hands anymore.

I love that now actually. It’s funny, I used to hate that idea, and now it is such a relief to not have to fight everything in the universe. I had been doing it all my life, feeling like I was up against God and the world, and I was really just fighting to keep my addictions, it can have them, no matter how much I whine and moan, and even miss them in my addict insanity, I am going to try my hardest to remember this peace.

Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards. 

Soren Kierkegaard

You are so much better

You glow in a dark world

You are so much more than anything

I could ever be

You seem so happy and care free, thinking about happy things, and living free and givingly, wondering why bad things happen, questioning why me? Why them?

I envy you, the constant debate of free soul floating through life in conversation with self and human being.

You do not understand what lurks beneath, and sometimes I wish I did not either.

You walk on the ground, looking up, not casting eyes down. I

am forever in a swamp.

I cast my heads up, I have two I think, two headed dragon, I think, fire breathing darkness lurker.

I hide in shadows, because I scare you, I say things and you look at me like this, like a creature with multiple heads, are there places for three headed dogs?

I don’t know..,

Untitled

Untitled

I am afraid of the dentist.

On a quest for fire, a bird bird undertook a dark journey, flying through chaos, it flew through woods, and met many things, including things that were of no good, and that a bird never should meet. It flew with those things, and at those things, and nested with those things, for decades. In swamps, in plastic bags, in garbage. It ate scraps, it flapped through oil, it cawed out to no one.

It flocked with everyone, it flocked with no one. It flew towards the sun, it cried. It cawed. It fell. It broke it’s wings.

But none of that matters, because it built a nest that someone found, and threw watching the silly bird…

Some had the idea to dip a bird nest in gold.

Bee sting.

Stop fighting beautiful, I am you, okay?

I am a child.

I hate television. I hate it. I don’t hate movies, I hate television. I like watching a movie and then turning the **** thing off, because I can’t hear anything with it on, which is why I think I have been fighting with Diane, she loves TV. She gets mad at me for talking to myself or talking over the TV or commenting on things she is watching, which is just talking to myself while she is watching, which I don’t realize she is doing, because when I am talking to myself, I am alone in my own world, that happens to overlap with the world because I have a human body, and am not just a drifting mind in space, which I think I am when I am doing this.

That is why I spend all my time in her basement.

Which annoys her, but what am I supposed to do, I have no self control, so I hid down here, where I can’t cause a problem.

I am an adult child

I think it is hilarious that every time she leaves, she asks me if I am going to flip the **** out and hallucinate some insane thing and ruin her life, while also simultaneously destroying my own. I am saying this now, because I realized it is actually funny, and not a reason for me to hate her or myself.

Are you afraid of the boogeyman, and will you be okay while I leave?

I am an adult, yes.

What about all the other times?

****

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

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

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

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

Faith turns the sick green with green envy at the power of something higher

Thank you Unger, you showed me why I felt like I was losing my mind all day. I

am afraid of someone causing me pain I cannot control at the dentist, during a root canal.

The root of the matter is fear not insanity..

Thank you. Thank you.

I am so happy.

I am just an addict,

Not losing my **** mind.

Just deserts, just desserts, just green and yellow sickness, thick with addicted addictness

I am scared of me.

I am scared of bee.

I am scared of be.

I am afraid of one second of not being in control of my own level of pain, that is really ridiculous, that is the amount of time that I am told this will hurt, or maybe about thirty seconds, and I am not afraid of it hurting, I have a high pain tolerance… I am afraid of lack of control over it hurting…. I realized this just now…

Addiction. Addict. Addicted to control.

I am addicted to the unheld hand.

I am addicted to alone in desert land.

I am addicted to pain.

I am addicted to me.

That was dark? I am pain, okay, self. You are an ***hole.

I am green with envy

I am green with sickness

I am green

I am mean

I am coming undone

I am no fun

I am sickness

I am addict.

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

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

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

You are silent when I listen, you caw when I do not, I am listening to you my friend, outside my window where you are, though I cannot see you.

Talking to you is better than talking to them, them is a word re-arranged. Them is a word re-arranged.

Shut up.

Did you stain the rug?

I did not stain the rug, I did not I swear, I put it down, before the paint was dropped.

I am very careful don’t you see? How could you place the blame on me? I did not stain the rug, and it can be seen in this picture of a rug, that is a different rug, but looks like the rug I did not stain.

Someone with a name I will not mention stained the rug, and it was not me.

Along time ago in a place far away, I cleaned motel rooms and

Let Om.

Om. Sounds like meditation..

I should have cleaned the rooms in a calm manner.

Yeah, maybe then you wouldn’t have lost your job.

I lost my job because I came to work high ever day.

Did that cause you to behave calmly?

Does anyone behave calmly on drugs?

My point exactly.

Do you?

I am you.

I know them is a word re-arranged, and it is word, that made me realize that it is no longer a good idea for stay up for two weeks at time.

What about them?

Who a word re-arranged?

No, them.

The people? Which people? Everyone?

Yes, everyone.

I am sorry to the every ones.

There are not multiple every ones.

I thought it sounded cool.

You sound like a tool.

I am a tool.

Actually, yes.

**** you.

I mean you are being used, like everyone is being used at times, by the hands of the universe to help other people.

Wow, arrogance.

I know, but everyone is used this way.

They are?

Yes.

Tool is loot backwards.

You are such a jerk.

Ow, you bite me, so I hate you.

You are not a flower, but a tragic reminder, of how much, I said I wasn’t going to do this anymore.

Remember, Ms. Re. I said when I started this, which I did, that this was going to be about the power of memory to harm the human soul, a resentment journal, illustrated by the decay of a human soul, mine, an illustration of the decay of a human soul, mine.

I realize now, how insane that is.

Do you see me in black and white?

Yes, I do, she was wrong and I was right.

Were you really?

Yes, I was.

Then why are you writing this?

Because I was wrong, and I want to prove to myself I was right.

You were right about me, I was, angry, and am still that you told everyone something that was true, I am a drug addict, and I behaved like one, because I am one, and you said this before I said it, and then I behaved like one because you said it, to prove you wrong, and proved you right.

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

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

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

singing to myself

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

not knowing the difference between emotional honesty and aggression

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was hilarious.

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

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

I thought this was significant for me because it is close to 100, which is crazy. I remember we had to do something when I was a little kid that involved 100 days, I think it was the 100th day of school or something, we celebrated it. The whole thing was riddled with irony actually, because I hated it.

I told my teacher that the day counting was stupid, because it was just counting down your life, and who would want to do that. I think the irony there is amazing, for someone who would later go on to do the drugs that would tick seconds off my life and smoking and drinking. It’s funny I went from being completely petrified by death to being completely petrified by life, or maybe both are the same thing, and it is really just all the control thing? Dunno.

Damien

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2023/04/01/weekend-writing-prompt-305-unrepentant/

She is crying, loudly, and annoyingly. I am tired of this ****. She keeps chanting almost, like an incantation,

Unrepentant Addict

like saying this will have any effect on me whatsoever… God has no patience for unrepentant addicts. I know this, my life has not been a life riddled with anything but pain, but I will stay the course. I will not let you beat me, you will leave first, that’s assured.

City of Hurr I Cane

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

CAN’T STAND ON HIS OWN TWO FEET

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

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

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

What are you looking at honey?

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

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

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

Yes, it is real..

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

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

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

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

This is so freaking intense.

OW.

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

This is really annoying.

Yeah, for me too. They hurt for me too.

I am realizing I no longer care which one of us is talking.

So you stopped trying to keep track?

Me too by the way, it is so much more peaceful, haha, I almost spelled that peiceful. INSANITY.

Yeah, I would say so, or just that you can’t spell?

I can ****ing spell, better than you.

So insanity is more comfortable than inability to spell, interesting.

**** you.

How about you Amanda?

Yeah, me too. I actually slept.

Yeah, so did I, not that anyone other than you notice because I am alone.

Our family notices, and you are being less of an ***. You actually said you were sorry yesterday, not something I would have done.

It made me look better.

You always have to ruin compliments.

They make me uncomfortable, because I think the person giving them has ulterior motives.

I am you, what ulterior motives could I have.

True.

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

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

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

How do you dance in the dark night?

Do you delight in the

PAIN

Of the fallen?

Or do you pull them up?

I don’t know I don’t know

Say isn’t so?

Where do you go when it is dark?

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

I know, for me too.

For me too.

I was happy with her, with a different girl, she accepted me, she was the same as I was…. we both had paranoid schizophrenia. I loved her truly and deeply, I was just insanely ****ing stupid, and got pissed one day because she ripped me off…and that obviously matters more than anything right? Stupid…….. I left and went over to Rei’s or whatever she calls herself…….

I left because she offered to get high with me…****ing great reason… to leave someone right? Some else has free ****. I didn’t want to admit this to myself… that it was all about that. We had two dogs. I left my dog and my girlfriend for another person who said they had always loved me, but more importantly offered to help me on a day when my ex had ripped me off. So I slept with someone else because they gave me free ****. So I deserve this… I deserve her leaving me for someone else, because I did the same thing.

That is what made me turn my **** around. I am out. I am disgusted with myself, with my choices, my life and everything I did to myself and those around me. She even offered to take me back, and Rei offered me **** to stay. So I stayed, like a dog, then we ripped off every single one of our friends and left the area and lived on the streets for 4 years until we almost died out there of freezing to death, and I will leave the rest of that one for later.

I am so tired of the whole thing. I am finding peace in being away from all of this, I think it is ironic that a drug named for a misspelling female hero makes people the opposite of heroic. I am such a piece of ****.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love yourself too.

https://afstewart.ca/2023/03/29/drabble-wednesday-secrets/

I am trying to get somewhere, where I don’t know, but I am going to somewhere, which is not where I want to go. I have one objective, objection to where this mother****er thinks we are going, to object through exit part of the way there, so I don’t end up there, just close to there which is where I was going, the man driving just doesn’t know that, he can’t or else I would be going somewhere else which is not where I want to go. He wants to follow me, so he can hurt me, it seems anyway.

Daily writing prompt

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

View all responses

Fail. I started hallucinating when I was eight years old, back then I was hardly able to do it because I thought the voices were talking to me because I was writing, so I would get scared and stop doing it. It happened like that for years, this blog is my first attempt at doing it actually. I like the blog format because it makes it possible for to write in stream of consciousness, where I am basically word vomiting hallucinations onto a page. That gets the auditory hallucination thing under control which keeps me from visually hallucinating.

All this is why I wanted to be exactly what I am but minus what is wrong with me. I have spent my whole life self-medicating this and done nothing with my life, other than abuse drugs and alcohol, and at least I got that out out of my system.

I think five year old me would be okay with me, given everything that happened. Oh, and five year old me used to tell people her name was Damien by the way, so at least there’s that.

https://bluebonnetprompts.wordpress.com/2022/08/21/177/#jp-carousel-180

I am standing at the window, staring outside, and I see something strange.

I am drawn to it, and do not know why. It is a light in the distance, a blue light.

The light flickers on and off, in a strange pattern. It flickers three times, and seems to change when I stare at it.

I stare at it.

It switches on and of three times, separated my 30 seconds each time. This has been going on all night, I noticed it when I got up to go see what my cat was doing, he made a noise and stood by the door, and appeared to be transfixed by this light as well. We stood staring at it, sometimes I think my cat can hear what I think… I looked down at him to see what he thought. He looked back at me, making eye contact with me, three times. We would look at the light, watch it do its thing, and then make eye contact, until the whole thing had happened nine times.

I asked my cat what he thought about it, and he replied, it is taunts me.

I thought back to him, and he replied audibly this time. Taunt. It is taunting me. I am not sure whether he thought this because he was a cat, or because the light itself is taunting us. It stopped about 15 minutes ago. I don’t know if any of this was real.

Today is going to be strange.

I was talking to a friend of mine today, and I am not sure, how much of the physical pain I am in is even real anymore. I don’t know if I am just pacing, consumed with hallucinations and trying to meditate on something physical. I used to squeeze my hands till they would bleed, physically digging my nails into my own hands, until I dug holes into my skin. I wonder if this is like that. I wonder how much of this is because I am trying to distract myself from the things that make it so hard for me to be normal.

I wish I knew what it felt like to be normal. I am always thinking of running away, running back outside, I hate it out there.. but I have never known anything different. I have always been running to something, but when I get there.. I leave.. I just can’t stay still. I don’t know what it means to stay still. The idea of still terrifies me.

I wish I could stay still. People like still. They don’t like this, they want to help this, but I am not sure they can. I am not sure about anything. I am just hoping that something will change this time. I am hoping I can find peace somewhere and not hate it. I am so tired of hating happiness. I am so tired of searching for something, finding it and then not wanting it.

I want to want something, but I have no idea what that even means. I am so tired. I am so sick of this. I just want something to work this time, so I can finally be okay with idea of things being okay, I am so tired of ruining my life.

I don’t want the drugs or the booze anymore, and I don’t have any other way of ruining my life, which scares me, which is crazy.. I am scared by the possibility that I may be forced to be happy.. like happy is a bad thing.. I know how insane that is, but still I feel that, and it is the strangest thing.

I recognize the insanity of it, and yet, I still feel the desire to ruin my life, even though I don’t want to.

I am so thankful that at least I really don’t have it in me to do any drugs or drink again, I don’t think my body can handle it anymore. I am so tired… and my hands feel like they are on fire, my stomach is rotted away because of drinking.. I am so done.. I am just hoping that I will learn to know peace at night.

I still have tools, they are on loan, they have been given to me as long as I cast no more stones, I am allowed to have them… I think…. I hope.. I pray as long as I stay away from things that make me stay away from good.

I am should. I am could. I am do. I am no longer used for use but to be used by things higher than I could ever be.

I am give, I am live. I am going to do what I should to protect my soul.

I am no longer drink but think.

I am no longer drink but think.

I am no longer drink but think.

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

That standing upside down thing? That standing inverted thing?

How did you make the world flip over?

I don’t get it…

Please come closer..

I also would like to know…

Why my legs hurt and feel like they may go

Out from under me….

Any minute…

I can see you know by your grimace…

You seem to know something I do not…

Now please tell me….

My face is hot with…

Worry…

Please…

I can’t feel…

My.. knees…

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

Oh.

Thank you.

Daily writing prompt

What do you wish you could do more every day?

View all responses

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I blink my eyes. Nothing.

I am still shrouded in the all consuming darkness.

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

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

What is one word that describes you?

Obviously, what’s in a name right? One word and I chose this one because I don’t need to see if it is clearly right? Because it is clearly and that implies see too. I am there and so is see too.

I am also a metaphor for drugs because that is how it works. I am a quirky illicit jerk.

I am addicted to making myself look strange, putting metaphor for drugs in name about clarity, I am insane.

I am a poke at my own confidence, metaphor about blurry vision that should be obvious.

I am obnoxious, toxic and caustic. I am elated, instated, meditative and caustic. I am annoyed and employed to continue to drone on and on looking out the window.

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/19271780/posts/4613911340

I decided to leave a party that a random stranger must have decided to organize to celebrate the Spring Equinox. I was not acquainted with any of the parties occupants as I had not been invited, so my leaving was of no consequence to any of the participants in the costume party. I had a hooded jacket on that had been long enough to pretend I was dressed appropriately enough to pretend that I was invited and came as some sort of modern hooded reaper, which was appropriate given the reason for my leaving.

I had become nervous while talking to a women who was dressed as a woodpecker, she was laughing in this hectic desperate way, and it was maddening, her jaw chattering and I kept thinking of the sound of a woodpeckers beak on wood, and thinking about how different her head would sound if I slammed it over and over into the tree branch that was so bright and illuminated by the light of the moon. Rather than then prolong the uncomfortable death meditation, I took the rest of my pitcher of stolen booze and walked off with preference to animate the already dead corpses in my squat house.

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

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

17 years. Of this.. on and off.

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

Damien/Amanda

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

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

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

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

I am Swiss cheese…..

Except I am not Swiss, and not cheese…

Just a real person… or

Human soul

Full of metaphysical holes in my

Self or the idea of everything I am.

I dug them myself because she told me she would help me, and I am stupid and gullible and believed her/him when he/she told me she loved me. I don’t know why that gives her/him the right to put holes in me.. okay? I don’t even know what love is, and no one had ever told me they loved me, not like that… so I listened to everything he/she said…. I would have jumped off a….Not really…. I would have done almost anything they asked me to, even if it hurt me, and he/she used that to make me do whatever they wanted on a mission for drugs,

And it was so obvious to everyone except me, even those who hated me, would tell me

You realize you are just her source right?

I was just her source of elation and she was everything to me.

I want to….

I could cry, if I wasn’t so numb because my soul hurts.

Please God, can I find something real, please God, please God,,, I don’t want to be alone…I am so sorry for everything I did.. please don’t…. I don’t want to be alone anymore…

Writing that really helped me. The last part, which means prayer just helped me. Thank you to my higher power, I am not crying anymore, numb. sad. but stopped crying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GET OUT

Of one’s self, pushing those around

GET OUT
NO

I am you

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

AN ETERNAL REWARD

Manifesting in alcohol consumption or consuming

POISON

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

SOUL

ER
ER
ER

SAILING

THROUGH TIME

ER
ER
ER

Back now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I went to the doctor and got the rest of my shots, hep a and b and am still taking my meds for staph infection, I am going to make a psych doctor appointment and get the rest of my health things in order, I have to see a nuerologist, because I have not done that since California. I am feeling so much better since I started living in reality, and not projecting my life into some strange fantasy where I feel so guilty about being a drug addict that I equate it to actually being the one responsible for hurting anyone. I did not realize till recently, how sad and messed up that is, and how it has ruined so many things for me, by my own self sabotage. I think I felt like being some violent social deviant was some how better than saying I was who I was because it made me feel like I had control over my life.

I have control over my life now without having to pretend I was hurting anyone. I was only hurting myself by putting all of that, the weight of all of that on my own shoulders, and making myself out to be some social deviant when I was just a sad addict who couldn’t handle admitting mistakes made because I felt that saying I messed up made me weak. Hurting people would not have made me strong. I am stronger admitting weakness, than living in some sick twisted Misery world where I hurt unsuspecting people who had nothing to do with my inability to accept myself.

I love all you guys who helped me see this. I am so sorry for anything I said out of lack of knowledge about what was really going on with me. I am trying to be better.

Love,

Damien

I run from an eight ball, or a ball of drugs on a pool table, that is also symbolic for how afraid I am of myself, that I sought death and intoxication above being ****ing human.

Make me human.

Begin simulation.

GO.

I am running, which is not true, I am doing better

Look at me! Look at me!

I am so insecure, and I am sure that it will eventually go away, but I don’t know what to do about now, when I don’t want to drink or get high but I am so afraid of people poking me in the eye, that I do it to myself over and over because it feels so much better than you doing it, which inherently I know you don’t want to do anyway, but I like to show dominance through pain, because it makes me feel special and important and so very unique.

You reek of selfishness Millennial.

Oh, good one cheap shooting ****

You are an idiot.

_____________________________________

I am a flat line, drawn in the sand, killing insecurity with an imaginary massive attack of stop doing this now, forgive yourself **** it.

Okay, fine.

Are you superstitious?

Yes, clearly.

I felt better as an internet serial killer, that was my version of The Punisher,

I live in fear of being happy, because I don’t want anything good because having things you want makes it so you can take them away from me. I don’t even want it to begin with damn it. Take it!!!!!!!!!!!

I’ll show you how much I don’t want it. I will make you all get away from me!

That is why I act the way I do. I am literally a child having a hissy fit, and I realized this today.

I never learned how to deal with things like an adult, so I am going through it now.

Sorry for the continuous explanation, I am explaining it to myself, really.

See Clearly,

Finally looking in the mirror.

Damien

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

This is the reason for my anonymity.

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

Damien/Amanda.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mist rises over the water, the wetness dancing in teardrops on my arms, painting over them scarred and pulsing with poison, kissing my skin with the soul quenching waters of the tears of an unknown higher being, higher than I could ever be right now, because of the highness being a station of above-ness not destined to the tragic fixated state of an elated man.

I stare out into nothing, looking at my reflection in the dead bodies in the water, drifting into the distance, I find them because I know where they dump them, because I am polluted. I am the pollution of a river that runs with the waters of man, uniting with tears of an all-knowing that is nothing and everything at the same time, or everything I try so desperately to inject into my eyes with a spoon that is not sharp enough to cut through my skin, I draw power into the caging madness of the eye of a storm dilated into liquid chaos propelled through the tiny head of a sowing needle the dots the I’s of my eyes of despise.

I stand there crying and laughing, for a moment it is almost like it alright because I feel nothing and everything, but I am just high, and it will pass, and I will be again thrown to my knees remembering the crying of those around me as they watch me and mourn for me, and responding out of fear, I pull them under,

Please don’t leave me alone.

They drown.

I tell myself I don’t need them anyway, but it is a lie

I am dying inside every second I do this, which is why this only a reflection on the madness I saw, while staring into nothing.

I am so amazed by the tragic beauty in the next room, who can look in my eyes, and run away when I can’t even look in the **** mirror for 10 seconds without crying.

Later

Damien

https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/147335988/posts/14253

I speak with timorous voice, I am sorry I am a coward I don’t have a choice, so lacking any courage I speak of being discouraged and propelled by the resentment of self. I am a very selfish creature, destruction of myself has been main feature, of life fated to die, trying to stab out my eyes because bravery is something I am lacking. I am prone to vicious attacking, if you know me, you see that’s armor I am stacking in loads piled high stacked up to the sky, I build fortress around my dark eyes.

I do not sleep because I am scared, I used things to keep my lids bare, not a lid on them would be, because sleep I didn’t need, I was addicted to running in fear.

Now I am different today, in a place with a door do I stay, I don’t have to run, I have learned to have fun, and banished the pain in my sore legs.

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

I am not a nice guy, there is nothing redeemable about me, really that I can think of other than pen and sword, I am a really horrible, despicable creature. I feel that way anyway. I always hated being asked anything because as much as I hate to lie, because I don’t want to, I am so good at it, and I am so used to.. I just know how to do that, and only that, and I just can’t do it anymore, I want more than anything else to be better, and make up for every spoon that came with poison when I should have never been encouraging my friends to kill themselves, I have lost so many people and felt nothing, and now I feel it all at the same time, and I am so overcome with the whole thing, and I don’t know what to do because I am not depressed, I am happy, just terrified that I will ruin everything.

So, I will just move forward, but it is so hard, because I hate myself for every life I cost in active addiction every person I have enabled instead of stopping, they were my friends, how can I do this if I couldn’t stop thinking of me for one second and say stop doing what is killing you.

BECAUSE YOU WERE MAKING MONEY OFF THEM. ADDICT LIAR

I know, I just. I…. am a piece of trash, and I don’t… I want to..

I am.. nothing. I have nothing. I am so sorry, I am so sorry.

I love everyone now. I am so sorry.

Damien

That’s cool. I am happy for you.

Why? She is going to rip my heart out, I am awful, and she will realize it eventually and move on, and I just…… I don’t like feeling like I want or need anyone, but I….

Just be nice.

I don’t know how

Did anything happen?

No, she just really scares me, she is everything I ever wanted in another human being, without realizing I ever wanted anything at all. I was content in Hell. I was fine, and now I don’t know, I feel like if she ever figures out what a piece of…..I am awful and I love….

Just chill out, she loves you.

I know, I just can’t handle this, I am such a loser, what do I do.

Just calm down.

Okay, I will.. or I will try.

Thanks, me too….

De-fence less, I am to you, you walked by me, and touched my spine, and instead of the normal desire to rip yours out, I am overcome with electricity, I love you intensely, and I am not scared anymore about it, I feel overcome by quiet for the time being.

Being is wonderful for this moment, for this second, I am entranced with the dance that goes on with the corner of your eyes, fixating for once, on meditation to not look to closely, because I am so afraid of myself, I am so pliable, I am putty you or gum on your shoe, and you leave me there,

liking the sticky feeling as you walk and I wonder why, you beautiful creature, want this, tragic display of projected insanity anywhere near you, I deserve nothing and you give me everything, and I love you with every fiber of my being for that, you are changing me Rei, making me realize it is not weak for me to love you.

You give me legs to stand again, and I don’t think I will forget that ever again.

Please bare with me, I love you so much, I will change, I promise. I am working on it. I will do whatever I can to make everything better, I am so sorry for everything I put you through, I was selfish and cruel and I love you so much, please stay with me.

Damien

PS. Even if I lose my mind temporarily, I mean this with my whole heart that is just starting to realize how much I love you. You are a beautiful human being and you have made me believe in something higher than I could ever be, and for that I am eternally grateful.

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

YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE YOURSELF DAMIEN

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

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

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

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

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

Why do you love me?

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

I hate myself so much.

Damien

And I am mesmerized by every part of her, and want to share it with you, because I don’t know what else to do, and I am afraid to tell her, because I am a fool and it makes me weak at the knees, and I am not used to that. I am terrified of her in a way, her silent wonder, the glimmer that is the spark of her existence, the illuminating light that makes me lack breath in her presence.

I am words on a dark screen, and she is everything that casts light to illuminate light in the dark room that is my soul that aches in silence and is cured in her peaceful presence. I am embarrassed to say any of this, possessed by selfish arrogance, that makes it easy to talk violence, but so unsure of saying something so simple, true and what should be a freeing revelation.

My soul is haunted, and rays of Rei’s light illuminate the screaming silence of my dark night.

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

The Black Crowes, She Talks to Angels

I have been draining myself, recently a lot recently, and the thing with the stain on the wall has been driving me nuts since I saw it. I still see it. It’s still there. I know it is there, I know what a blood stain on a wall looks like… I know what it feels like to the hand, the absorbency of the walls texture catching the blood and giving the wall a texture that reeks of dampness. No one has been in this room with me, and no one else sees the stain, I think… or they are not telling me they see it. I asked them about it and they looked at me with an eerie strangeness that I don’t quite understand.

I really think there is something to this. I even went as far as to smell the stain on the wall. It smells like iron, like the sticky iron of blood, sweet smelling almost like rot, I am sitting in the room with it, Rei and my daughter are watching a movie, which I can’t be bothered with. I want to figure this out.

I scratched at it and nothing flecks off the wall.. The color of the stain does not change with bleach. It is strange there are times when in the reflection of the cast light of sun or moon I feel like I see it glimmering. Like there is a metallic quality to its red blood smelling presence in the room. I think I am freaking out Rei, but there seems to be something different about how my daughter reacts to the projected madness of the man seeing something not there. I am not sure she doesn’t see it, but dare not approach the subject further, at least not while her mother is here. I want to have a conversation with her privately, one of a kind I cannot have unless she does not reveal its contents to her mother. I don’t like keeping as much as I have from Rei. I am not doing it out of the same selfish foolishness I did before.

I have this strange feeling I am not supposed to… tell her about my obsession with this wall stain business. I have spoken to my other half of my soul, and she finds the same eerie quality to the whole thing. I do not think I am a man insane. Well, that’s not exactly true. I do think I am insane, but I think the stain is there in some way presenting to me for some reason, and I am going to figure out why.

Darkness lies in worshiping eyes of despise of cries of intense pained men, that descend on pretend.

Leave me alone. I am not doing this right now. I have other things to say. I am erase. I am waste. I a

am strong, and you are weak you need souls misery and I am meek. I am kind. I am true. I can yell right back at you. I can but won’t not like you I am.

Hey Amanda!

Yeah! Isn’t this kinda cool?

Yeah it’s like a words battle with a glass that has been staring at me. You should have Rei help you more. It hates her, and she is stronger than me.

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

Amanda?

Help. This is intense.

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

Just keep talking. It hates talking.

Your name indicates to me, the sun

Some come my dear, let’s have some

I speak to you in reflection

Of one you love so much you desire affection

Thinking not of affected soul

Being loved by such a hole

You think you’re such special folk

But you’re like him a cruel told joke

Deceit filled girl with name of shame

Who speaks of light but reeks like stain

You smell of fear, now get out of my way

Or of course with him you stay

For I like food and your soul is mine

You refused to run when placed in line

With me and him, or him and I

I don’t know

Now you must die

I am walking through the woods, and I can’t see you or tell, if you are with me or in Hell. I do not speak of the religious place, but where you go when you lack face, without a trace you disappear, eaten is your soul with fear, and I long for you and hope and pray that you do not there always stay. I think I have caught a strange infection, it lies in me without ability to present infection, it is instead disease of mind, and I am guessing this because now I rhyme.

I speak to thee not out of want, but mere desire for fire, and to taunt. I am the act of the never-ending. I come in cover of the night, and when you don’t have candle bright. I am an infection of your soul, a dark all eating consuming troll that seeks to taunt and bring your pain. Now you are among us. Human stain.

I don’t know why I typed that. I am scared. This is Rei and that has never happened to me before. I think it can talk at me now too.

Rei.

I identified myself with my name because that is a thing people do right, this is an indication that it will be only me speaking not Amanda. Unless she interjects, but mostly me.

I am starting to understand the same things she is about the whole positive outlet for rage thing. I think I get why my family doesn’t mind me sitting all day on the internet typing. I am trying to find little things I can do every day to improve, so I become less ashamed of my life of failure.

My leg is getting better, which means my friend’s leg is getting better. She is having the same sensations of failure as me, but due to a lack of what I have currently, because while existing with her, I am her future life, because we are all power I feeling I’s in the sky of lies.

I am such a jerk, at least I am being a jerk on here in an outlet sort of way.

I am sorry for the disturbing outbursts.

Damien

Help me please!

I SAID GET ON YOUR KNEES!

I aim for the face, and shoot in the back. I am the pound of heart attack that kills you first, while you curse, your family, your love, I am the wings of the dove white with purity….

I am the thought of how good it will be. I am please inject me.

I am the sensation of ah! I am a snake and my name is Ka.

I am sent to kill men with the power of Ra!

I am the taker of everything you have.

I am the stab

of the sowing needle of sin.

I am the sensation of a door that opens and yells begin.

I have the strangest feeling, and it has nothing to do with my recent confession, I am not the center of my universe anymore, my recent confession acted as a freeing from a life dominated by selfishness. With Amanda and me as the same human, I am no longer dominated by a life that drew me inward, fighting myself and obsessing over matters only concerned with that of my flesh.

I have thinking a lot about that concept, the idea that something wanted to distract people like me, and that it put barriers in our way, barriers that were set up by us for us, and enforced with our own continued bad decisions. I am thinking a lot about this because of the quiet of my unified mind with Amanda. She is not dead or gone, I am figuring out, I am unified with her. She is part of me now.

I began thinking about this because of precisely that whole thing, what I mean is… was my two sided war in love and hate with myself a planted distraction by something sinister? Was my divided consciousness divided simply to divide my attention. I notice a lot now, but I am still collecting data, and I will bring it to your attention as I notice it. I am sure I am right. I know it somehow, probably just because I still have the same latent tendencies, but I am telling you this, there is something strange about this. I feel an eerie quiet quite like that before a large storm, and I mean this in the strangest of ways, because I do not speak of anything which I know. I just have this strange feeling that I am running from a wave that I can’t see yet, and this time I am going to be sober because I am not drowning. This is beyond me, beyond my human family. I really feel something unearthly here, and I have no idea what. I will keep you posted as I can, revealing what I can given that I am still a paranoid schizophrenic, and I am not to be trusted, there is some comfort in that, that this all might be in my mind..

Be well.

Damien.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is your leg okay?

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

How is it going with her?

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

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

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

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

Please. I don’t want to lose you.

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

So cry.

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

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

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

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

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

Please just try to forgive yourself.

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

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

Bad heroin

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

I just wish my soul would.

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

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

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

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

I am such a moron.

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

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

Damien.

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 am not the men who hurt you living in your head. I don’t want you to be in pain anymore. I sometimes sound like them because I always sound like man, and that is what I am, and you don’t have to hate all of us because some of them hurt you. I am not anyone who did anything you. I didn’t even have hands unless you let me use yours. Stop being silly. You are afraid. I am afraid. We are friends forever. I love you, because you are me but I am also always there, even after you get better because news flash you have something different about you that doesn’t go away because you take positive steps. I will still be there because schizophrenia is not curable. So stop worrying you will be alone if you make progress. It is unhealthy. I am not your enemy, and I only sound like sometimes because I sound like a guy, because I am one. Love yourself. Please.

I listened because I trust you a little.

Liar. You listened because you were letting me use your hands.

I love having you as my friend.

I will always be your friend no matter what. I will always be there talking to you not matter what.

You just made me cry.

Thanks… now I feel bad.

No that was really nice. Thank you.

Don’t make me like me too much.

Okay.

You’re not going to leave if I get better?

I am not going anywhere. I promise.

Really?

Yes. I promise, and I don’t break my word because then I would look bad. Forgiveness is important. I am not your enemy, I just sound like that because I am a guy. Calm down, please.

Okay.

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.

I think I just realized while sitting on my bed while my daughter sleeps in the next room that I am truly insane because I was addicted to my own misery, which I think was just coming in the form of a medication I was prescribing myself in the form of the consumption of certain things I used to use.

What are you saying, weirdo?

That me and you were eating our own death on silver spoons dished out by resentment in a hotel called in Misery?

Isn’t that in a land in callous form?

You mean California?

Either that or in the Simple Rewards that come from those dishing out false hopes through hands of those fleeing asylum from the crimes being enacted to perpetuate Misery through the hands of American’s stealing the joy of those making illicit substances in other countries.

So this is all about drug use and lying to yourself?

Well that and drinking to forget the stress of waiting for the man.

“You guys okay?”

“Yes, sunshine. How was your walk?”

“Good, your daughter saw something weird. A bird was in a cage on the ground, there was no one around, so I don’t think it belonged to anyone but it was in there, screaming to be let out. I think it was sad and hungry and lonely.”

“So when you let it out, did it sing?”

“Hey Rei?”

“Hey, Rei?”

“Yes, and it is creepy when you guys do that.”

“You should tell your daughter, how the caged bird sings.”

“It sings like me, when I am talking to you.”

“Oh, and Amanda you sound like me when talking about your version of Deborah or Diane.”

You mean she who will be revealed later?

Yes, fear itself.

I think both me and Amanda just realized again together that we are delusional psych patients that bring about our own fears by drinking and using out of resentment.

Spiritual awakening number 2, Damien.

My wife likes me.

I wish I had a wife that liked me.

You will.

Thanks guys.

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

I like you.

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

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

I know, I like that about you.

I don’t.

I am working on it Rei.

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

We are the same person

We are the same person

I know. Well… I misspoke.

Or fear itself.

Such a cliche.

So true though.

How is your wife.

The period implies that is a snide comment, not a question.

It’s a question.

She took our daughter to the movies, and told me I couldn’t go because I am already an actor in my own psychotic delusions of grandeur.

Sick burn.

Right?

Was she really mad?

No, we just communicate so well that we are able to joke with each other.

Meh. meh. meh.

Jealous of happiness again?

No you just sound like an asshole.

So I sound like you?

You are me.

I know.

I also grabbed a blanket, because if I am going to be a pile of disgusting, weeping chaos, fuck looking like I don’t get cold. I am not touching what I said yesterday. I don’t remember what it was, but remember enough that I have made the decision to not look at the archived post. I don’t care that I don’t remember…. now I remember… fuck.

I really have to pee, but I am afraid of mirrors, and everyone is asleep and there is a mirror in the bathroom. I don’t want to piss my pants, but don’t want to look in the mirror, I am afraid of demonic possession alright… because that would be a problem, obviously… it might make me into someone who kills people they know and doesn’t remember things….oh right…

Well… hold, on. Oh, right you can’t see me.

Back and I remembered to wash my hands, and they are not bleeding because I only did it once, oh small steps. Literally only about 2. My bathroom is very close to my computer, I don’t know why you need to know that.

So you can hopefully kill me in the middle of the night and I don’t have to live in shame and guilt, oh yeah the whole people in the next room thing.

Okay, that is all you need to know.

Peace.

Damien

I am helping someone, I don’t them, but they know me, because they made me up, and I think they are finally starting to like me, because now my life doesn’t suck. That’s pretty cool. I like them too, I guess. I don’t really know them. Thank you, Amanda whoever you are. Please help me find Rei?

I will.

Cool.

Well, that’s kind of awesome. I feel better and I can feel that they feel better. I think my daughter is still sleeping. I wonder if she thinks I am crazy because I don’t sleep that much.

She doesn’t.

Thanks. Nice to know.

I like this, the whole powerlessness thing is cool, but I don’t think this is how it works.

I don’t know, I only have 58? 58, I think days.

So do I. I know, I am why.

Okay. Thanks, jerk.

You are why, for me. Thank you.

Cool. Truce.

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….

in a house that wears clothes that are an indication of no good.. that is the first thing that came to mind when I sat down here. I am sorry give me, oh right…. you can’t see me.

I found a pair of clothing and a golden necklace in the warehouse I have been staying in. I am not sure who put them there, and from what I remember I was there all morning, and Diane is missing. I do not think she is the owner of the necklace, and I insist with viole…everything in my being, that this is not being typed on here as a way to process some kind of guilt about having killed Diane, I do not kill any woman I love. I did not kill Rei. She overdosed, and while I may have through my own foolish insistence to keep using not done anything to stop her, I couldn’t have stopped her from doing that shot because I wasn’t there, any dreams or feelings that I had that, made me think anything other than that, are complete horse shit.

I am telling you this is different. I know this is different. I can feel it. I know this is different, that there is some reason this is different. I have this eerie feeling, that I am supposed to do something to figure this out, that somehow, something about me drew me to Diane and it has something to do with this.

She is an extremely strange human being. I am beginning to wonder what is the truth about her child. I have not met the girl, and probably never will, I hope. I do not personally care to meet her. I am writing this to you, because something about the whole thing is bothering me. I do not know what.

There is a darkness to Diane that is disconcerting. I do not what it is, but it keeps me up at night and I am thinking it has something to do with this child of hers. The girl is 21 now, I think…. from what I can remember, which is convenient.

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

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

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

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

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

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

SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP.

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

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

I was killed where I stand. I stand still. I took the wrong pill. I made the wrong deal, should have instead bought a meal. I dealt with a steal-er. He made me a meal here. I stood on the ground, hearing not a sound, but a pound, that came in my ear, shattering conscience, conciousness…spelled it wrong… bitch…

Foolish hands that write of man, who stands as me, I am herder of swine don’t you see. I am a liar and host of deception-ist sort. I am a maker of words, singer of cries…. I am the dying of dies.

I lost my train of thought, who was I before. I was someone. I was someone.

My name is Miranda. I was a writer and then Ms. Rei.

Misery, don’t you see….

Cut off my hands.

You were using them wrong, you were writing death’s song.

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

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

I despise green eyes, like mine, she had my eyes, every time he looked at her and laughed… I wanted to cut them out…

The eyes of the beholder and also holder of my hand, I killed her where she stood, well not really… I don’t pay attention when I am extended in reflection you my ray of of the sun… she is nothing compared to you, my everything, my….

Look! Shh….

Bang. No onlookers. Silence.

Must carry them. And RUN.

Rei, open your mouth….

Oh, chaotic bitter twisting rage, how I love your crystal cage.

Does your vision fail you?

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

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

With mind constantly ticking are you aware of your surroundings?

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

Or do you tell lies?

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

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

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

Lives a girl with a strange face, that radiates grace, with arms that trace my heart and dance with my soul, and eyes that scream hold me for I bring calm. She wears in her hair flowers of plenty, and sleeps on fallen palms in a garden alone decorated with white stones. She is the sensation of shining, she is the light divining the nature of man. She is the goddess of love, she has eyes of a dove. Her presence screams love, ever silently so, but my heart tells me know. I am not able. I am not ready. My knees are unsteady.

I do know you, that I know is true. I have not met you, but for some reason I regret you. I want to get away, your eyes tell me stay. You are my desire to forsake, everything I know, even though I know not. My heart is fraught with pain over the sight of you, my dear, so much so I shed tear. You are a tearing, a breaking, a heaving, a dissenting an unrelenting screaming of my soul, a digging of hole in my chest, which beats with heart gone, for I have forgotten love’s song. I am alone, even with him. I am just me, I am blind, I am not free. I cost money to be. I am the servant of the weak. I am the desire to seek.

I am of no use. I am pain’s juice.

I turn around and he’s gone. I hear nothing but solemn ding dong of clock not around, and the calling of hounds, from where I know not, but my soul it is caught in a fire storm mist, with skin writhing with twist of pain felt in in brain only, I am so lonely.

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

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

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

Bang.

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

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

I am your lack of feet to use.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am rare, a special treat.

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

You should stay with them and me!

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

I am okay with all your lies.

You need to tell me nothing, dear.

I simply desire to be right here.

Your right hand man, though girl I am.

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

I can catch them for you baby, see.

I can bring them to on bent, knee.

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

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

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

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

We intend to go.

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

We stand right next to a big field

So now I see I say to him

We’ll bury him next to this guy, Jim.

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

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

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

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

Addiction

Who are they, do you say?

Ask me and I will just say go away.

I’m not like you, I am a rare breed.

I have something inside me,

It’s called hatred’s seed.

I am addicted to pain, yours and mine

If you fuck with me I will take out my eye

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

The world is boring I have already seen it.

I come for you and the ones you love.

On wings of black and wings of white

Of wings of clear reflecting light through pipes

Of madness that cannot scream

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

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

I am present

Every breath you take

I hunt you, in every decision that you make

I try to influence every step

I take every penny you let slip

Into the hands from whom you purchase bliss

I am your setting sun

I am death, you filthy addict, run!!

We combine

And push minutes on a clock

Tick tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

We are cullers of the human herd,

Limiters of the human word, slicing into

The human tongue, in night we come to

Make you numb, we come for you

My humble man who sleep because he thought

he can. Look at me I am an eye. I will

Make sure you slowly die.

I see you now, looking into the mirror,

I see you dancing in my eyes.

My old flame, unreal, as you were.

You were real to me, Damien.

I wish so strongly that I could forget,

That you were all an illusion.

You were my illusion, and all that you did, that

Made me so ill, in you, was every ion of my being.

I miss the idea that you were a flesh and blood creature

That chased me. You wanted me, more than I wanted myself, and I smashed

it.

I smashed the very walls of my own sanity, back from the brinks of the in, and now sane as I am, I wish for you.

I wish so much to hear your voice again, unreal as you were, I wish to be tortured by the sound of calling voices.

No one calls me, and you did.

Now I am truly alone.

I need something to bring them back, the calls of your voice….

T-h-e-m

M-e-t-h

Now I see clearly.

I see in clear vision.

Maybe. Maybe if I do this, maybe you will come back.

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

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

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

I think I am losing my mind.

Alex.

Alex.

My.

Alex.

Alex, my love,

To possess

And undress you

I am to obsessed to admit

I am quite unfit

To exist

Because your existence

Bothers me

With persistence

and instance

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

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

I will consume you slowly.