I no longer know what the goal of the site is, I write horror fiction, and love letters to myself.
This site is a tool to facilitate the act of seeing clearly, written by hands that used to hurt myself.
I have paranoid schizophrenia, narcissistic personality disorder, bipolar II-manic/depressive- rapid cycling, depression, anxiety, hydrocepholus, narcissistic personality disorder suffering from alcoholism, drug addiction, alcoholic. with OCD and PTSD- was addicted to heroin, meth, crack, alcohol, cocaine, prescription pills.
I am drug addict/alcoholic/dual diagnosis/ex-homeless person.
Characters thus far
Joy
Diane
Damien de Soto
Rei Clearly
POV EXPERIMENTAL ALLEGORICAL POETIC METAPHOR FICTION
First person
Blog post style
Dark horror fiction
Through dark horror fiction I rake the muck of the lives of street addicts.
Or in plain English this is an epic poem/novel about addiction told about low bottom addicts in horror style.
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.
I am fear, I am regret, I am worry, I am stained with past remorse, I am forward course through wonder, that can send you under. I am stained with wondering what could have happened if, I am an ocean of if.
I am what now, without going down.
Waters are around me, because I am in an ocean, or in the air, it matters not where I am, just that I am, where is irrelevant, I am in waters or air, surrounded by being, the act of being swimming in air or waters, in forward motion, keeping my head above, trying to not drown in worry, trying to not be the act of looking down into all-consuming depression, over what if I had done something else, I am the what now of looking forward, and not being consumed by the idea of you are doomed.
The idea of regret, the idea of fret, is a pattern, that encircles us that good at drain rotation, the whirlpool sensation, that can be so comforting, I am trying to swim out, but sometimes remain in the circle of look down.
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.
Do you see time?
Does it see you?
It is present in all things you do.
I am a negative, I am an item.
I am time, the world re-arranged.
I am strange.
I am earth shattering negative of a world that glows in the dark, the beauty of night in light that is stark. The call of night bird, or hooting of owl, the howl of a coyote, or looking far south, I am looking away from star, and light of the moon, I am the coming of deep and troubling monsoon. I am the coming of winter, felt always and never.
I am the act of swimming while remembering December. I am the act of continuing in time that moves on, I am a song, I am droning on and on.
What does “having it all” mean to you? Is it attainable?
To have it all, to begin to know peace, not something I ever thought to be possible for me, to be at peace, to have it all, never thought I would be that tall.
To live by the sea, to see blue green, that is all I truly need, and by
Need, I mean, merely want, I am happy with anything really, I am just an I and an eye that experiences time, nothing more, nothing less, an observer of time, nothing divine, nothing more nor nothing less, just an addict with the ability to focus and re-address.
I am just a silly human being, beyond nothing, just what I seem. I do not want more than I need, to have it all is too much for me, I simply want to be happy, not to have more than I need.
In them I see you, inherent in everything they do, being so seperate from me, so much closer to divinity, so much higher than I could ever be, please bring me closer to you, I have been silent, because I began to use my hands to serve myself, selfish and self-seeking, please take them back, to serve you.
I am looking at the light, and seeing a picture painted before me, with I highlight, painted places I see you in it, I see you, not them, but you in starlight, thank you for reminding me who you are, being, that paints the night sky with luminance, thank you for being there, for those with downcast eyes.
Who would you like to talk to soon?
My mother is the most supportive person in my life, she is the one of the ways I even figured out I was transgender to begin with, she knew before I did, and when I was very depressed after quitting drugs and alcohol, she talked to me about the whole thing and helped by listening to me talk about how I felt. She didn’t suggest anything, just listened, actively and asked me questions, and I figured out the reason I was drinking and using had a lot to do with trauma from having hydrocephalus and various traumatic things like my house burning down, etc. and the fact that I was not accepting who I was.
I literally said out loud to her,
how I am going to be with men if I can’t forget who I am, and pretend to be a girl?
She helped me realize that one of the reasons I used, one, not the only one, was that I was denying who I was.
The woman referred to in the archives of this site as Diane, is my mother, who is with her husband for the weekend at the ocean. She is my best friend, the only one who stuck with me through my insanity and drug and alcohol chaos. I hope to talk to her soon, because the morning is awkward without her. We usually hang out in the morning and make eachother laugh. I thought of a couple jokes that only she will get.
And now this.
I am a bird with a song, and I sing for you, I am up all day long, doing what birds do, I sing not for you, but for them, but it makes no difference, if you listen all day long, I sing with relentlessness.
I am a word used in a weird way.
What personal belongings do you hold most dear?
Everything I had originally is gone, long gone, so I hold nothing dear, except my loved ones, which are not belongings.
Monopoly, monopoly, my life is like monopoly, go to jail, go to jail, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars, go directly to jail.
I threw it all away, when I went away, but before all that I lived in places where I lost it all, over and over and over, due to living in cheap apartments, that had cheap landlords, that did cheap things, that caused me to have to leave, without my belongings.
I mean to say, I have nothing I started with, or
Do not pass go.
Do not collect 200 dollars.
Monopoly, monopoly, my life is like monopoly.
She came at sunrise, she came with light’s dance, she came at sunrise, and stole my friends pants, they were laid out, on her bed, we did not know, she came at sunrise, in her house we did not know,
It belonged to her. She was kind and forgiving, forgave our unexpected visit, when she came we thought,
“Well, this is it,”
She told us it was okay, that we broke into her house, when all I was thinking, was
Well, this sure went south…
She made us breakfast, and touched my face, it was covered with dust and dirt, which a bath could erase.
She was on a vacation, an act I don’t know, she gave us shelter, from the rain and the cold.
I scream in color, I scream in death and decay, I scream in colors that paint you took me away. Where your house is, is where I used to live, where bricks are laid is where my branches were, where the bricks lay, is where I was ripped away.
My reality is broken, it cannot be given back, my branches scream with panic attack, I cry in the attack of taken away, my branches screech for me, I bellow for them too, I am dying and it is because of you.
In the night you came searching, you came with a knife, with your friends you came cutting, you came for my life.
You cut me from a bush, you cut me clear off, not my leaves are dying, soon they will fall off.
Roll the die, I will bet we get a better roll, we the one with two souls, make it good, make it quick, maybe this time, the idea will stick, that we are one, but we are two, and we get one roll, not four or two.
I am standing blaming you, blaming them, blaming something higher, blaming something below me on fire, blaming circumstance, blaming the wind, maybe one day I will begin to win, but not today, snake eyes now, maybe I should just stop staring down, get my **** eyes off the ground.
I brought you a flower, it is nothing.
It is picked from the middle of nowhere, or from nothing.
I mean I can’t remember who you are and was walking, and you are looking at me like you know me, and began talking, and I am holding this, so it must be for you right, and I am sorry, because I no longer have any idea who you are, and this will likely only last a couple minutes, something must have happened that bothered me, and I blanked it out, and now I don’t remember, so here is a flower.
She must have hurt your feelings, this is exactly what happens when people make you cry.
I know this, but I don’t remember why, so it is okay for now. I am just going to forget about it for now.
You should find out why.
Hot air balloon that flies over HELL, below are those who do not even notice, beyond anything that spells their pain and suffering, they cannot see, they are slaves to their sweet misery, they live in resentment, and cannot look up, this is the state in which they are stuck.
In the muck and the mire, they worship fire, which belongs so sweetly, to their own pain, their lack of restraint, so when something flies over, that can save them from themselves, they are not watchful, looking only
AHEAD AND
DOWN
DOWN
DOWN
My soul burns for you baby, you make me so ****ing happy.
She was so sweet, she painted the shadows, she gave light to darkness, painting color into worlds of starkness. In all lack she painted color, touching hearts of trouble with waves of beauty.
She gave this to me
A flower from you, that you gave me to with love.
I gave it back, in reaction, in shove.
You were a bird, a sweet turtle dove, whom I could not accept, my heart from below not above.
A flower from gardens of heaven, was returned because I could not bring in it to the beds of those led into HELL, the place where I at the time I am meditating on did dwell, baby.
Yes, it was.
It was pure HELL, and
Flowers don’t live there, now I am leaving to, and in leaving, I am drawn to thinking of you.
You glow, sweetheart… so much brighter than the sun.
The sun is falling, and night will come, and in the encrouching darkness, we are left, in the theft of day, and light’s cleft, you sit on a tree, looking at me.
I am wondering what there is even left to see. I am the act of dying of the idea of bee, I am the seed of hating the idea of me.
https://wordpress.com/tag/fandangos-story-starter
https://wordpress.com/tag/fandangos-story-starter
The chase is on, I am running in front, running in front of cars and running in the light of day, I am addicted to being chased by death, I am running right and left, I am playing with the idea of time theft. They are plunging towards me as I get high on the idea of roll the die.
Roll the dice, baby, color by number,
I am running towards the idea of death, I am chasing after the idea of theft of life, I am chasing the idea of dying, I am leaving the idea of trying.
Nihilism, nihilism, nihilism, I love you so,
Oh, nihilism, I will never let you go.
I am the act of rolling under, roll the die, baby, I am the act of die, die, die.
I am chaos incarnate..
Do you chase death?
In the blink of an eye, I make the woman in the passenger seat cry, she is looking at the driver’s seat cry, what are they doing…. I have no idea why?????
I am the act of dog in a human being.
Surrounded on both sides, by the all consumingness of you, I look out into nothing, and see only lack, my soul in perpetual attack, under the spell of don’t look back, and look down and vomit with sound of
ACK. Cough. Cough. I am human eating from chaos’ trough, I eat drugs and don’t come down, I star out into the lurking nothing, reflecting back on pain that I stuff into
The gaping hole, that I have inside my soul, it rips and tears and eats the idea of me whole. I am reality bought and sold, I am bell of death ringing, I am a toll,
Unpaid, unpaid, unpaid.
I am gate to HELL,
You are the idea of HELL
Idea of being UNWELL
OF PAIN THAT IS SWELL
AND SWELLING AROUND MY SOUL
OF DEATH CONSUMED BY UNPAID TOLL
Laid, laid, laid, and
Opening, opening, opening, and staying
Extended into the opening, opening,
Blue, and black nothing, I am the idea of you stuffing stuffing, into the the whole hole of your soul, the teddy bear full of NOTHING.
I am not going to lie, being close to half a year not touching drugs or alcohol is amazing to me, and makes me feel like this.
Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is big, and makes me small? I speak of course to alcohol, and drugs that make me think I am tall, while I am really not myself at all, just a small, shrinking liar, with a soul that is on fire.
One hundred eighty two days in half a year, so in a month in five days I have been clean and sober for half a year, and managed to switch to nicotine vaping, instead of smoking a pack and a half of cigarettes a day. I also no longer gamble or panhandle, and have been going to meetings, and have been helping my family instead of making them worry. This is the first year in my entire life, I have followed through on any new years resolution.
If nothing else today, mental high five for that one.
Damien & Amanda
Damien,
I am reading something that made me think of you, and how you talk to yourself, and how we talk to each other, even though it is mostly joking, you are always being mean to yourself, and saying things before other people get a chance to say them. The things you say about yourself even if they are sarcastic are usually mean, please stop doing it.
Amanda
Amanda,
It is force of habit, and the voice of the other person that lives in our head.
Damien
Damien,
I know it’s force of habit, but please try to stop doing it. I am going to try to stop doing it to. I like you, and you like me, leave it at that for now.
Amanda
Amanda,
I think we should try writing positive things to each other, maybe I can do it that way. It is hard for me to say anything positive about me.
Damien
There once was a girl, who loved beautiful flowers, she would stare at them for hours and hours, she would wish she could be like them, fragrant, and joyous, like her name suggested. She always felt that her name was a lie, sometimes so much that it made her very sad, or even cry. She wished to a rose, or a being with anything but toes, a sea lion, a fish, not her, so sad and craving anything, but this, she wished for the bliss of the sun, her life had never been very fun, but she felt obliged to stay, not to take away the happiness of those around her.
She prayed every day, for something to give her a little bit of contentment, or even content to her life, that felt so riddled with questions and with strife. One day a voice, way up high, almost seeming to come from the sky, directed her brown eyes, to the flowers she loved so much, and she decided to begin to alter them in photographs from other people, that inspired her so, she altered the flowers, putting more light in them, thinking herself a painter with the paint brush of the stars, she put the love of a higher power in the things that made her smile.
I am good, and you?
I am fine, do you want to go to the appointment, or should I?
You do it, you are better at filling me in than I am at doing it.
I am not even going to say it.
I know, I know, oh and joke on purpose.
We are ridiculous, and most of the things on the page have been borderline ego masturbation.
Borderline?
I think schizophrenia is more appropriate.
Agreed.
Add vice, advice, add vice, ad vice
I am the creation of vice, through not taking advice, but instead adding vice, resentment
Or reason meant for getting betterment
better meant, betterment, a seperation, the constant situation, of my brain, oil and vinegar, bitterness, seperated naturally, by a brain that is good at alone, but awful at being party to togetherness.
What’s the oldest things you’re wearing today?
My perception, my perception
It is the oldest I have, my clothing is new,
My life no longer sad.
I have been percieveing with these eyes for 36 years, they have seen many things, experience love, hate, and fear. They are learning to know peace and serenity, but are not there yet, not sure when, or if they will ever be,
But it is my quest, and I am quite glad, better this, I figure than remaining
INSANE
My clothes are new, so this post is silly, as I think my skin is 36, and my soul lays somewhere in this flesh container I occupy, and see through brown eyes into a world that is painted by my perception, painted the way I view it, used to be colored with rage and jealousy, but now beginning to change, and everything going from stained to changed.
I am learning to change my perception, and my clothes, unlike when I was one of the homeless folks and I lived in old clothes, donations that were never really mine, now my clothes, although they are bought not by me, are new, but my skin is still 36, and carries with it the knowledge of 36 years of not being new.
Her skin smells like cinnamon, her breathe smells like rain, her words spoke with kindness, though not about me,
Wash away all my disdain, her smile is a renewal of a world colored by lack, when she looks in my direction, I feel my soul recieve a smack.
I am not a good person, I feel I deserve nothing but pain, your soul has the aura of a light summer rain.
You make me feel something, I have not felt before, I deeply want you, but not the I want a ****. I want to treat you kindly, never felt this before. I did not think I was capable, my soul being so sore.
I don’t know what to do with this, I know it is unreal, I just am begining to learn how to feel.
Alone, a loner, a long er, which is a long extension of time, spent in the ER, or Emergency Room.
I have been there a lot, and been alone a lot, because of exactly that, now mind you my alone time has not been mostly there… it has been, everywhere.
You are the Goddess of the Rivers made of stardust, and light, you are a creature of reflection and of dancing in the night. You come to those who are drowning, and addictied to act of fight, you are creature of pure reflection, and save the infected, sick and addicted to spite.
I meditate on you often, even though I do not quite understand, being a creature of habit, I am sure of one thing only, and that is,
I do not understand you right-ly.
I am not saint-ly.
I am a liar and a theif.
I am a creature of swamps and of things that dwell beneath.
You are a Goddess that is above me, and so I am stuck looking at the skies, but it is hard to not go below, I am a creature with downcast eyes.
I am
She spoke to me kindly, she spoke to me greatly, not with great understanding, but with great power, power with words and power over me, through my inability to understand her, and ability to panic over things beyond my understanding.
Belinda, Belinda, you were so great, so great
That my arrogance deprived us of the ability to relate, such a tragic shame, and I am only to blame.
In the projected future, there is someone I miss right now, and I don’t know how I miss them, but I do. I dream of you, and like I said, I don’t know how.
You are not know to me, not right now.
You are made of star dust, you are in my dreams.
You are protected by time, or so it seems, because I am supposedf to be alone right now, and so are you, and I don’t know why, or maybe I do.
There is something a higher force is teaching me right now, and I imagine it is the same and also seperate for you, and I imagine the next time I am with someone or maybe the thousandth I don’t know, it will be different.
Look at me, look at me, exercizing self-control, silly addict able to keep myself from plunging into dark vacant hole. I have done pretty good at keeping things out of my mouth or my veins, but really done nothing, other than simply abstain, and really done nothing except sit in a chair, and listen to people who have been here and there.
It is getting easier, I really must tell you, I am learning to love
Everything else, so very much, that was obnoxious I hate everything I say, and wish I had someone else, so badly, but not, need to maintain distance, because love makes me rot, my brain, my brain, I am still insane, and so very vain, and obsessed with myself, I need to stop this, I am getting on my last
NERVE
NERVE
NERVE
Switch Off.
End Transmission.
My life is a mess,
I am now cleaning up.
My walls are wreck, I am scrubbing the walls, with the soap of recovery, maybe the stains will come off.
It will take awhile, but I trust it will work, with the power of realizing I have been such a jerk.
I trust something higher, than I could ever be, with that power I run forward, trusting it makes me free.
I see with blind eyes, I was a liar, I was a thief, I speak of madness, with eyes that were beseeched, consumed by addiction, plagued by lack, they saw nothing but soul under attack, they did nothing, but pace through blank space, slave to addiction, aiming to erase.
They were the eyes of a blind man, a person addicted, they saw nothing at all, they were plagued by a calling, and ever present, siren song.
I am ironic, my existence was pained, drawn to a calling to dive down the drain.
Now I am different, in way less pain, I am getting there by resolving the still present conflicts in my addict brain.
I colored you like your two loves.
She was a monster, my sweet turtle dove, she was so crazy, and loved black and white, she was a monster, with him she did fight.
I live the still life, I lay around and do drugs all night.
Your boyfriend was so dull, though you were so great, he just layed around, you two couldn’t relate, I don’t know what you saw in him, that’s a lie yes I did, he was your dealer, and you two had a kid.
I wish I could have had you, and so did, so you say, but because you refused to leave him, I had to go away, now you remain in all likelihood, still doing the same thing, not getting out, but instead giving in.
The addicted live in misery, they live in pain, the lurk in the shadows, they stand in the rain, the litter the streets with garbage and pain, they scream in the night, their lives down the drain, they have no hope, they are told they should die, and looking back it just makes me cry.
I am so very safe, because you are in your place, and I am in mine, paranoia, put in it’s place.
You are in my mind all the time.
I need to meditate on something else, but I do this instead, because I like to make sure I do things all the way, so I am stepping on my self- ass er tion.
I am self-assertion, reality desertion, I am dying because I have to in my owner, this is illustration, to show my owner, that I am bad, even though sometimes my owner is glad to have me… because my owner is insane.
I am. I am. I am.
Look at me, oh so very free, look at me.
I am a moron. I just ran around for a half hour, cursing because I couldn’t find a nicotine vape.
Nothing is about me, everything is about you, I love you so much, love everything you do, if I speak this way, with this kind of language, no one will see the truth of why I live in anguish.
Nothing is about me, everything is you, I love everything you do, would do anything for you, everything I do is great, sorry you cannot relate, I am over the moon, beaming with perfection.
I live beyond detection.
LIAR LIAR
Sole on fire, of my shoe, step on me, make me a prisoner, I do not desire to be free, I live beyond blame, beyond shame, life in vein.
Heroin, heroin, hear me talk, I am addiction, I love to stalk.
I have already done it, it is complete, I have already started, I am on running fete. Defeat is in sight, so is victory, I am on a daily quest, and always will be, I eat with a spoon, no longer shoot fire, I am on a quest, to evade drug empire.
I am seeking to be, so joyous and housed, so free from madness, no longer a louse.
I am made of stone, I drink fishes, I am made of stone, I blow kisses.
Nothing can touch me, not easy to break, I am a woman, I aim with grace.
Speak to me clearly, tell me a story, tell me of darkness, make it real gorey, tell of things that you have no seen, make it about darkness, make it a bad dream, make it fictitious, make it pure fiction, speak it clearly, with very clear diction.
Dance with me baby, you make me so crazy.
Does it speak to you, what does it say?
Does it speak truth or talk of going the wrong way?
Does it flow through you, or is it on top? Is it forcing your tempature to drop?
Is it cold and biting?
Is it warm and inviting?
Is it surging with force?
In the flow of the river, lays death….
Let me flow over, let me through, let me change your tempature, pour over all you do, let me be on you, give me your body, let me change your tempature, lend me your body.
I am inviting, I am over you.
I am the functional drug addict, I am myth, a lie, something to shield your eye from the fact that you are a drain on your own life, an addiction not just to drugs, but to strain, to the addiction of
MUST
MAINTAIN MAINTAIN MAINTAIN
Hampster wheel of run away
AWAY AWAY A WAY
To seperate self from flames burned on spoons on the street, candles lit for people still sick and suffering, who are dead before you have a chance to meet them….
I am gold, I am pretty, I am neat, I am clean.
Whatever do you mean, that is mean… I am doing just fine, I am golden, baby. I am maintaining mine, you may need help but I do not… I am okay with burning spoons, and keeping all my bowls hot as fire
Fire fire fire
Burn yourself, I am okay with hiding bottles on the shelf.
I am okay okay okay
Please go away.
I did and she stayed there, sitting probably in the same chair, forever and ever, in the life of fog get her.
Fog Get Her
Forget her.
She tells me I am an alcoholic, drug addict, and spits on me, when I ask her for some change, I tell her that’s strange, because she is high on the same drug, and she look in the ****ing mirror if she wants to insult anyone. I pretend it doesn’t bother me, but it does, enough that I am writing about it right now, and still thinking about it months later.
I was doing speed with this girl a week before asking for the change, and asked her for the change because I thought she would sympathize being a drug addict her self.
I am standing in a room alone, talking to my best friend, myself or whatever, same thing, and we are laughing.
The wind blows, and we hear this song, that sounds like everything in the universe connecting, all the sounds into a song, a song where all the sounds in the universe make a song, connecting in a way that is sounds like that, and it is so loud, I can no longer hear anything else. For anyone wondering this is a side effect of brain damage from having been up two weeks at time. It is not pleasant, and not desired, and very uncomfotable.
I am in your kitchen, and have your sole, of your shoe, because I have one of those too, and there is nothing you can do, because you can’t run, you have no legs to stand on, and I look at my legs and they are slowly turning the color of the fridge, white, white, white, with death with lack of blood, and……
TBC
I have known you a thousand times, but noticed nothing, not a thing about you, because I worhipped something that stripped all the color from my world.
You, and all like you
I told her and all like her, to stay away, far away from me, desiring nothing, other than what fueled me…
Pushing everything and everyone away, far, far away, now I am left alone.
I knew this would happen, and did not care, addicted to the now
Now now now
More more more
I complain, but know I did this to me, I was so joy us and O so free.
I was addicted to
I am alone.
I am right along side of you.
To be or not to be?
Distended and extended
I am a time eater.
Left with nothing now, I look back, because I am stuck in the creation of forward.
You are not the creator of reality.
I know, but I am the shaper of my future, or one of them anyway.
There exists a peice of my heart, on the ground, trampled right in front of a rose plant. It has been there since the winter, wishing to find shelter. It is not dead, but exists in the ground, hiding from those who used to hunt it.
It has grown into the ground, and was once one with it, now it is cradled by the roots of the plants kissed by the sun and is entwined in their plant sheild,
I am plants, I have been dug up, I am unrooted, and now I am stuck, in the form which I have taken, and in form by those who have mistaken, me for posession, though I am alive, or I was, before they contrived, their foolish plan to construct this heart, now I am dead, and must re-start.
the roots wrapped around it, protecting it from the crush of the stones around it, the plants form a nest in which it is entwined, being absent of thorns, and also grow upwards, drawing my heart closer to the surface, and out of the damp dark soil, where it lay, with each day the plants grow, and each day it gets closer to growing out of its grave situation.
I wonder what will happen when it grows out of the ground, will it die? Or will it flower?
I have been forgetting to do this, but caught myself thinking about drugs a lot, so here. There are no meetings on Saturday near me, so I talk about drugs on the weekends.
I think it is cool if nothing else that I am almost at six months, well sort of….
Peace
You are standing in front of a wall you painted dark green, like the ocean, or the idea of being mean, you didn’t like that, thinking it ruined it.
Ruin radiates from your eyes, no your ruin, but rather, mine, something I jealously guard, tortured guard, of Hell’s sword.
You stare blankly into the nothingness, that is everything you see before you, because everything before you is nothing, compared to the light radiant hands that painted the walls the color of the love of the sea, sprayed on, with the spirit of sea spray, encapsulated, by the captivating hands of one who radiates love so deep for all around her. You paint color into the darkness in waves that turn me green with envy, making me a creature on your walls, invisible, and broken, down into the atoms, so low, that I am nothing, but fragments, on the walls, shattered and broken, but brought back together, and rematched, by everything that you are.
You are a shooting heroic star.
I loved her so very much, I decided to treat her poorly.
So in love with black and white, you are, you are my shooting star, you are everything to me, I love you so clearly, so dearly, you are everything that I ever wanted, and needed, please stay always my
HEROIN
I loved her so very much, I decided.
To treat her poorly, was not my intention, and of it I make mention to mention why, I treated her
My treat is to retreat.
I am a coward.
She was mean to me.
I am coward, and did not want to see.
You are an addict.
You are a liar.
I hold a lamp shinning on your soul, alight with HELL FIRE.
She thinks we are two different people, so very convenient.
You met me once and hated my guts, I am a girl now, and watch me re-do.
Tell me how much you do not believe me, I adore you, and told you sweetly, that I am not what you want, not a lesbian experience, but I can be whatever you desire, if that is what you want….
I can be whatever you want, I am two people, I am your want, I am whatever label you read on me, I am misread by you, for you, all about you.
I am yours to interpret, I am yours to know, I am clearly what I told you so very clearly, but you would rather hear this, so interpret the lie….
I am the opposite of everything you thought you knew, because I am a do-over, because you like women, and I can be whatever you want me to be, baby.
So very
Perplexing
Isn’t it?
Angel
I am sight from different site.
So becoming, so become, in becoming, we come undone.
I am a wall, I am a cage, I am the idea of nothing new on each page, I am your case, I am your form, I am the idea of forlorn.
In the begining it was decided, that you are you, and you cannot deny it. You get what you get, you give it all away, you are locked in a cage forever to stay.
I survived a deadly fire, glowing eyes rage much higher than flames or smoke could ever reach, on wings I fly not to be beseeched by scalding hot embers that lay beneath, my wings serve me and I reach heights unknown to human being, and due to this my dear it seems, I remain so far away, from flames igniting on that tragic day, when all you loved was reduced to nothing, and in this setting and pain stuffing, burned all that you had within you.
Sear me seer, sear me deep
I am all that lives beneath
I am all you seek to hide
Everytime you ever cried
Sear me seer, sear me deep
I am all that lives beneath
I am not capable of what she wants, she says I am, I assure I am not.
We are sitting on the beach, she tells me to look at the sunset. I am staring at my shoes, thinking about being underwater. I am not completely aware that she is still actually there, she might be a hallucination. I have not known her that long, and don’t remember how we met, she makes me nervous.
She tells me to look her in the eyes. I don’t like looking at people. I am awful at direct eye contact.
I tell her there was once a study done about hallucination and direct eye contact. She asks if I am hallucinating now. ****
How do I always end up doing this?
I am looking at you, but I am not, I am engaged in negative thought, which is not out of the ordinary.
I see you, but I don’t. I want to, but I won’t. That is the whole problem. I am never able to accept… never is so final..
In my mind, exists a battle, between up and down, sound and silence.
I am imaging someone, because I have no one, because I have failed my whole life to do anything other than serve my own selfish interests.
Food speaks to me, it tells me to eat it, it tells me I will like it so much better than I can even imagine. This is probably because I am
INSANE
I am probably insane… I am actually insane.
I know this, but I wonder sometimes, if there is something to this, something real, if I am hearing something real, that is real to a small segment of people, but experienced collectively, in that it is the same experience shared by a very small segment of the population, so would that not make it real?
But, backing away, I am caught looking back at you.
I am taken back and drop my things and instantly start to start re-gathering them, while falling apart.
I am fine, I tell you, but you know I am not, you stand looking at me, while my face turns red hot.
What is your problem?
I don’t really know, and if I did, I can’t let it show, that I know the answer because I don’t want to tell you.
I miss you, but I do not, I miss you, with heart in not. I am just living a lie, because I have forgotten what it was like to live with you back then, and as much as I say I am fine and completely okay…
You are lying.
I know.
I am never okay..
You are lying.
I know.
I am meditating on pain because I am addicted to misery.
I am meditating on pain, because I like to eat my own soul.
I am mad. I think there is something wrong with me.
I burned these flowers for you baby, in real life and on here, because
I am ****ing insane.
I am lack of clarity, brought about by insanity and vanity, I am enchanted by misery, brought to you by ms.re, she was the last one to chose to see my face that does not wish to be alone.
You are not that sad, stop pretending to be.
I am meditating on times when I was.
Why?
Misery loves company.
You are trying to keep resentment happy? That is pretty dark.
What do you do to be involved in the community?
I can do nothing but what I can do, which is not much, because I am not there as much as most.
I can do nothing but what someone who is only partially there would do.
That being said, I provide support to all those who need the advice of an addict/alcoholic/ex-homeless junkie.
I say this with no self-loathing.
I am an ear, an eye, a shoulder, and a hand to those who are in bad situations.
I am painted
With the embers that
Burn brightly,
In the trashcans, that are lit, by campers of discomfort.
I burn with brightness, that ignites nights whose darkness comes from souls not skies.
She was my lover, she was my girl, she was my everything, spinning round and round, and turning upside down, down side up, upside side down, round and over, and upside all around.
You meant nothing, you meant nothing, you meant nothing, you are nothing to me, leave me alone, leave me alone.
I am happy now, this is all in the past.
Looking glass
Looking glass
Looking glass
Alcoholism encased
Addict in blank space
I loved her with everything I had. Baby, oh baby, why did you not give me anything, when I gave you
EVERYTHING I
had
You were big and I was small. you were big and I was small.
She loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not she loves me not
I am the lie I am the lie I am the lie I am the lie I the lie I am the Eye am I Eye am I I am I
She meant nothing to me, lie
She meant everything to me, and I meant heroin to her.
My head, my head, my head was entranced with ideas of being dead, with words that were once said, with notions that should have long ago been put to bed, with the idea of being dead, with tragic dances of being lead to places that would make me
GONE
I am addict brain, no longer in chains, no longer addicted to disdain, learning to refrain from living in pain, with focus on the idea of retrain.
I love you, baby
Do you really?
Yes, clearly, sweetie.
I meditate now
ON
DIFFERENT
THOUGHTS
Or different things, like the idea of wings, and things that have them.
You are nothing, ***hole.
Point taken, and proven, so I guess you’re permanent?
I am ever-present, yes.
You are bitter Hell in a painful shell, of everything on which I doomed to dwell, pain spell, rescast with eyes focused on a past of lack.
Ow, you burned me.
I forgot how I like talking to you, baby.
Me too.
Will of the phoenix, will of the gods, flying so brightly, fighting all odds, you smash into nothing, you fight cold hard truth, you smash into everything, you are my youth, you have no mercy, you were a toy, you were elation, mixed with bitter attempts at joy.
I am a ball of writing agony, I am forever sad to see you go, say it isn’t so, so sorry, oh so sorry, to have to say no.
I long for you badly, think of you in mourning, I wish I was back when I was thoroughly enjoying…
Anything but this, anything but this, please bring me, anything but the sensation of perpetual hit and miss, I am no longer anywhere, anywhere at all, distilled by lack, and oh, so self-involved, I meditate on something, that wasn’t even my past, on an image of success, when I am flea bitten with lack.
So, I think I remembered why I hate myself.
Oh, did you really? Do you see it clearly now??? Oh, master of the art of never coming down, off the pedestal you placed yourself on????
You realize you live in her soul too, how does that reflect on you, voice that shouts about everything I do, you are part of them too yes, but why do you act like an infestation, a manifestation of everything they are not.
I don’t know maybe it is because I have been shoved and pushed around, any time the two of you needed something so useful during the act of coming down.
Well, where were you after that, after your so selfish caring act? Where do you go when you aren’t being, like you describe, if your pain is not contrived, let me see through your eyes, which are theirs, not your’s, by the way, at least I borrow, not try to take away.
I never did that and you know it.
Yes, you did, you just don’t show it.
I am looking at you, but seeing only me, because I am bitterness reflected, back from eyes that are stained with tearing at myself, bitterness encased in toxic casing which is the current shell I am placed in.
I hate myself, but hated you, because you in some way reflected me too, but that is my problem, even now, I am trying to realize this, and come down, from the pedestal I placed myself on, where I sit alone, and rambling on, about how nothing was my fault.
Is that really how it was, selfish ***hole? No, it wasn’t.
I was addicted to heroine
I was addicted heroin.
I was addicted to heroine
I was addicted heroin
I forever, always and forever, and always and forever will be addicted to heroin
Are you talking to me?
Not you, but it yes…
Why? You want?
We are not doing that ever again
If you do I am coming to
That was not an error Amanda, remember what happened sometimes, the act of coming to
I don’t want that because it will make my… our family sad
I know me neither now.
I made this for you.
You mean you made something for yourself.
I just needed to hear from you, I am not sure why.
It’s because you haven’t talked to me much today, because you were busy ego stroking.
I guess.. I think…
I don’t mind, I still like you.
Okay, just checking. I have a really bad headache.
I do too, because we are the same person.
I know this.
I just felt that needs to be said whenever you complain to me about things I am dealing with and not complaining about.
Hey, we are the same person.
Self-burn.
I have two lips, two sets, not up and down, and I told you this, and you did not get it, thought it was an act, so very convenient, well it was not, and it is not convenient either. Both me and her were in love with you in a way, but you were my friend, I loved you like someone loves their best friend, nothing more, nothing less, and so did she, but she saw me in you, and sickly she wants to sleep with herself.
I loved you too. I had never had a best friend before, not one who knew the truth, but you used me, you were not a friend, but a using buddy who was good at honest conversation, and bad at maintaining long term relationships, which is funny, because that is what people have said about me, so, karma I guess.
So sad,
Too bad,
I guess, I get a song on the world’s smallest violin…
Played by some smart tv upstairs that I don’t know how to use.
What does that even mean?
I liked how it sounded, rappers do it, why can’t it be done with horror, and actually all letters you write me are severe, because they are severly disturbing to average people.
That is actually very true.
I know that is why I thought of it.
Not everything you think is true.
Name one thing.
I am not a drug addict, I just like heroin and can do it responsibly this time, if I just don’t drink. This is actually something you were thinking today. How do I know, because I was thinking it to.
I am a box that never should have been opened.
I am trying it one time, and never again.
I will never do it two days in a row.
I can just drink one.
I can just have three.
I will start at five.
I will start at 12.
Severly, means harshly, and I think that a lot of us talking to each other, can be considered harsh, which is why I like you.
You like me because you have to, because I am you, or half you, and you are in love with your whole self which is half me.
Sick burn.
You’re welcome, I am usually the one saying that to you, so now you got a taste of your own medicine, and got to be the bad guy for once. How did it feel?
Like I was sitting back and listening to you talk, but I was actually present in my own body, having to experience me talking, and be completely coherent during it.
Hahaha! So, it is not easier being me, now is it?
Actually, wrong, it was being you than it would be being me, if it was me, I would not have been there at all, the fact that I am you was the only reason I was able to deal with any of it.
Thank you, I don’t know what to say about that.
Really? Thank you is all you have?
Amazing isn’t it?
No, actually, a thank you is kind of nice.
You know how insane this whole process is right?
Yeah, was just thinking the same thing.
Maybe, other people do this in their own heads.
I don’t think so.
I was just trying to make my own self feel better.
Yeah, your own self.
You are my own self.
You are my own self too.
That is a very insane thing to say.
She tells me, she thinking this area, looks like drinking elephants, I wasn’t thinking about drinking at that moment, but instantly began thinking about drinking when she mentions the elephants, we both start laughing, we are sitting on the ledge, hanging upside down, and looking at this, hanging over the edge, my head hurts from blood rushing to it, my head hurts easier than most peoples.
I laugh and lean forward to kiss her, she pushes me, I am good at falling backwards, for about 30 minutes she thinks I am dead, and for about 30 minutes I am searching for people with booze or drugs under the bridge. She screams down for me, and I come back, some guy gave me something, and I make some stupid joke about drinking like the elephants.
She forgives me.
She looks really good in my shoes, she lost hers looking for me.
I am forever reminded of you Ruby, whenever I think about elephants, which is right now, and yesterday when I saw some earings that looked like the one you lost that day.
She tells me, she thinking this area, looks like drinking elephants, I wasn’t thinking about drinking at that moment, but instantly began thinking about drinking when she mentions the elephants, we both start laughing, we are sitting on the ledge, hanging upside down, and looking at this, hanging over the edge, my head hurts from blood rushing to it, my head hurts easier than most peoples.
I laugh and lean forward to kiss her, she pushes me, I am good at falling backwards, for about 30 minutes she thinks I am dead, and for about 30 minutes I am searching for people with booze or drugs under the bridge. She screams down for me, and I come back, some guy gave me something, and I make some stupid joke about drinking like the elephants.
She forgives me.
She looks really good in my shoes, she lost hers looking for me.
I am forever reminded of you Ruby, whenever I think about elephants, which is right now, and yesterday when I saw some earings that looked like the one you lost that day.
She stole your money, and I’ll give it back, little do you know, this is all an act. We tricked you, baby, but you don’t know. I wanted your attention and your friend did know. Now you are sitting thinking she left you here, she is buying something of which you won’t here. I covered for her, because without her, I would never have met you, and after today won’t see you again, and this I bet you, so right now, I will tell you anything you want to hear, and yes have anything you want, I have it here.
I don’t know when she will be back, she did not tell me, and yes she will be back of this I assure, I implore you please relax, your insanity and anxiety is such a tax, I love your voice honey, and love your face, I have something that I am sure will make your pain slow pace.
Okay, she is back no go away, and if you are ever in need you know where I stay.
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.
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………..
He told me something
Spoke so clearly, told me that he loved me dearly, he had such a beautiful voice, so I felt like I had no choice, but to make him
CRY CRY CRY
I love you sweetheart, hope you
DIE.
You are part of an empire of chaotic obsession with death that seeks the theft of youth by making them afraid of the idea of truth, so they stick themselves with
PINS AND NEEDLES
Sowing into themselves cushioning, that cuts out everything they are, everything they were before, making them sure of nothing other than that they need endless replenshiment of something that is not food, not water, not shelter, or warmth but
GIVE ME MORE LOVE
I am the act of shove, I am the act of push, I am take everything you have.
I am addiction, I am all consuming, I am ever entombing, I will eat your
SOLE
Of your shoe because your real soul belongs only to you, please
Remember that.
I was just going to lie to you.
I know.
I was going to tell you, I tried my hardest to not be a complete **** all day.
I know.
I had a really hard time.
Me too, it was actually nice to see you fail, because I failed too.
I am not even going to say the very obvious.
I know we are the same person.
I am the…
You are not the better version.
There is no better version.
That is because we both ****
I am okay with that.
Toss me please, I am too quiet. I am addicted to the act of rioting sole, soul unsound, bound to condescending pretending to be okay,
Okay, yes please stay, so I can hate you, always and forever, be my friend, so we can fight about nothing over and over again.
I am addicted to the sound of my own voice, addicted to the idea that I had no choice, but to do exactly what I did,
RUIN MY **** life.
I shine with the act of this is mine.
I never look behind, I never look forward.
I am lilly pads, I don’t have eyes.
I can’t sit still, must make ill, must engage in perpetual
Dance
Dance
Dance
With dark fate, with my own hate, of myself, I don’t know why, don’t care anymore really, this was fun to write that is all.
Bite me.
I mean that you were spending a night talking to me, I am not worthy of the air that you breathe.
I was very glad you decided to leave,
appreciated the pipe you had up your sleeve,
not very good idea to use a match….not a very good way to get the stuff to catch or melt I mean… I didn’t care… I was entranced by the glow of the light on your hair, but you didn’t seem all there,
I am so tired of the tragic tweekers
Pretty women, darkness seekers, telling people like me you want something better and hanging out with people like me… so glad you decided to catch your ride and go back to him, I wasn’t worth your time anyway.
To See Clearly, In deed, I Cation by Ms. Re
I am a strange change in the wind, as you begin to realize everything you have ever realized is
ERROR
He tells me birds are not real
Error
He tells me that someone he knows has told him that they heard me say birds are not real.
Error
He tells a story about how my friend told him I said birds are not real after participating in a joking conversation about birds not being real, but instead robots in the sky. He thinks this is funny and laughs with me and my friend.
My friend thinks I am funny, she thinks my take on her hippy stoner questions are funny, she realizes I am trying to make her laugh.
Elizabeth thinks you are insane.
She does? I do not recall Elizabeth ever saying this, and if she did say this why didn’t she say this to me?
They call me spare change, I am the act of re-order everything you know.
Which is great for me, because the building I was living in at the time was not dark, but was abandoned, which I told her…
she said it was edgy, whatever the **** that means, apparently being a junkie is edgy? I don’t think she knows what edgy means. I don’t really have much of a choice of whether or not she is coming with me because she kind of just started following me to my edgy ****hole of an, “I sleep here till I am told to vacate…”.
I am the glamour of the unknown.
I am so free, you do not even know.
I spend every day and every night in a continuous race to erase my whole **** life.
I am talking to her, and I realize she is not even listening to me…..
The oddest thing about the whole thing, was that eventually at some point during the whole thing she just walked away, I tried to ask her where she was going, and she just kept walking, saying nothing, just left…. to this day, I wonder what she wanted, and there is a part of me that still thinks she was a ghost.
I moved my spot the next day, I wonder sometimes if she was a sad junkie that lived in that building who thought it was edgy at first and then died there… or if she was just my brain telling me to stop doing drugs through hallucinations.
Describe a random encounter with a stranger that stuck out positively to you.
I used to work at a sandwich shop, and this story is a story about two encounters that I had at this shop on the same night one positive, one negative, the positive was the last one, and it is the one that stuck out the most because it appeared to happen to negate the first one, almost as if it was because the universe knew the first one happened, which is what I think… because I believe that there was something higher than a human being protecting me from the first encounter.
I was the night clerk at a place that made sandwhiches, like I said in the paragraph prior to this, one I am restating this as a way to remember this…
I worked there from 2 in the afternoon until one in the morning most of the time, this day I was only scheduled to be there till ten, until a bunch of strange things all happened on the same day which all lead to the postive experience in the question.
1. We had a man run into the store who had been beaten up by some random guy in a truck that had been following him because the person in the truck hated gay people, the person knew me, knew my situation and knew that the place I worked would allow him to stay there until he could safely get a ride from his mother home, which we did, and he was able to safely get home. All proper procedures were followed and the man was able to be seen off by the authorities into the hands of his crying mother.
2. A man came into the store an hour before I was about to close, and demanded that we make 100 sandwiches, which we did, without asking if he had the money to pay for them, because he looked like he did… He was well dressed, and looked like he was not the kind off person who would do what he did…
He leaned over the counter, and looked me straight in the eye, and told me I was going to sell him all the sandwiches for a dollar. I said I could not do that, and looked to see if the gas station guy had left yet for the night, because the guy smelled like booze, which could have been reason enough to throw him out.
He then proceeded to ask me a very strange line of questions.
He demanded to know whether I believed in the Christian god, being very clear with me that it was the Christian god he spoke of.
I told him I am Catholic.
He asked me, what my god had done for me recently…
I shrugged, trying to get out of the conversation…
He then asked me if my god could replace the money missing if he took the sandwiches, I said I didn’t think so… He told me he thought it would be like Jesus and the fish thing.. I stopped speaking… at this point he tells me, he is of the belief that most people have chosen the wrong side, and that his god, the Christian devil is preferable.
I stop talking, thinking the man is probably intoxicated and in some kind of stupor.
He eventually leaves, and I close.
2. I get home and at this point am done with the whole thing, and am greeted by my ex, the one who I have not spoke about much on here, who tells me that I have a strange visitor.
A man hugs me, and tells me he saw the whole thing at my job, and that he applauds the way I handled it. He tells me that he knows I did the right thing and says he has seen the man reward people for breaking the rules of their establishments if they give him the items for one dollar.
He tells me that he followed me home to make sure I was alright, in his car which is nowhere to be seen. He laughs, says he is glad I am alright, gives me a hug and wishes me well, and I go upstairs, from my window I can see the man driving away, even though I could have sworn that there were no cars around.
I am sitting staring at the ground, in this memory with lack of sound, lack of presence of anyone around, simply staring down not up at the plain old ground. I am thinking about nothing, that is a lie, I am thinking about
Her, as I am usually thinking about her, but not the her that I usually am thinking about a different one….
I heard this voice…. a strange voice, long ago…. this is a memory… this whole thing… not just this part of it…
THE NARRATOR IS INSANE
You don’t even use my name now…. that’s kind of ****ed up
You have too many names to keep using one or the other.
I have two, and one of them is yours.
Point taken.
Are you going to finish your story?
No…… I think I will just leave it with this……..
I am ranting and raving about how it is the only thing, that makes everything allllll riiiiiiiiiiight…………..she is crying hard, I can hear it, but I can’t see clearly……… I think she is telling me to stop because she thinks I am going to die or something……. I don’t think I am going to die…. the two drugs negate eachother… I tell her I’ll be fine, that she can leave if I am disturbing her.
I can’t see you very well
Please get down and go away
I am really not equiped to deal with this
You don’t even know me, and I can assure you I won’t be……missed…….
She tells me she is not getting down, until I get up off the ground. I tell her no and that I will be fine, she doesn’t know me, my life is mine……..I can ruin it if I want…….
Please leave me alone
I am fine
I am resigned to this
This is my space
of
Errrrrrrrrrrraaaaassssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
I hate myself…. I lived in Hell…… and can’t get past….. the past in which I dwell….
You were so kind to try to help me, and I pushed you and everyone else away…..
Memory, memory, of things that were not important enough to me to stop………… making people cry when they only wished I wouldn’t die…
I am so sorry, I never even bothered to learn your name, you saved my life, and I never even bothered to learn your name.
I am walking by myself, like always every night, possessed by bottle on the shelf of a wall that is abandoned, by all who do not stand in the wreck that my life has landed in
I am darkness, I am pain, I am embodied disdain.
I am dark acid rain
Reigning down on soul of nothing
I have taken up to living. here… my home is here..
Yes, my dear, I have beer, and nothing… I have nothing to…
This is my home.. this is alone.. my home…
If that’s what you call this …in this building… she thinks this is interesting… drunken creature… following me…
Calls me brave, saying I made some stand against something…that I am standing up for something…. myself I assume.. I stand in my own tomb….possessed by the fire of chaotic desire to consume….
I am glamorization of Hell
I am woman’s desire to dispell everything her parent’s told her not to do
I am where you shouldn’t be
I am do not envy me
She helps me light a fire, tells me she wants to be like me.. free….
She does not see what is really there, illuminated godess… standing at the corner of a dark cliff, wanting to jump
Wanting this….
What is it you want
You want this?
Why?
She talks to me for an hour, and for an hour everything is alright, she has to leave in the morning promises to come back, promises she actually meant everything she said.. I know she is lying…… I am nothing but a night of adventure.. I am nothing but the desire to deny potential…
I am the glamorization of a life of loss..
I am the glamorization of the freedom that is the chains of addiction..
I never see her again because heroine’s do not save heroin addicts…
I have to save myself……
Maybe if I do… one day I will see someone like you again.
What is behind the soul resigned to perpetual de
CLINGING
CLING
ING
I am the ing, the exstention of what it means to be, you live in me, you live
But, do you?
I don’t know, isn’t this what it is to be alive?
Is it really?
I came for your best friend, last night while you were sleeping…………
I would know, I would know, I would know. That isn’t so, she lives with me, lives with me, we are together, always and forever
YOU ARE DISGUSTING
I am nothing.
I know this.
Hey, what are you doing?
You know the thing we do everyday… talking to voices from that place we go..
Misery, misery,
You are so near and dear to me
How I love to
ROW
ROW
I am the act of go, I am the act of go
GoOoOoO
OoOoOo
ING
ing
i n g
How does it feel to be back?
How does it feel……….
How does it
I am the act of
ING
I never go, I never go, I never go
Do you hear the sound?
What are you doing?
I am going nuts, but it’s interesting, I can control it a little bit now, I think the whole meditation thing is working, if I let my crazy out in little bits I don’t hallucinate as bad.
It’s working for me too..
Same person.
Right.
I am standing on the beach alone, or so I think… It is the middle of the day, but it is misty and the ocean gatherers have cleared about because it feels like it is about to rain, the mist is thick and penetrating, cold enough that I am beginning to be unable to feel my fingers. The water is warmer than the air, I wade into the water, and allow the water to warm my tingling skin, and strangely feel someone, somewhere looking at me, strange….
There is nothing to our actions, we exist as we always do, doing what we do because we do it
We look forward because we do
Do not make this about something larger, we are not what you lack
We stare forward into the distance
It is your own soul that you attack
I could have sworn there was no one there.. but I can feel it… a human being staring at me.. I look around and still can’t see anyone, but can feel the warm presence of someone there. It feels like I am being watched by someone, maybe from far away. I look around at the birds, and they are still, not moving, not making any sounds. They stand perfectly still, as if watching someone too….
I remain standing there for I don’t even know how long, and at this point, I am not sure how much time has passed by, but I feel like I can hear the birds thinking to me, they do not think like human beings do, they think in a sort of group think, collective conscious, letting me know that nothing abnormal is going on, at least not with them.
I distinctly feel someone behind me, and look around, I still see no one, but I swear I can feel someone watching me. At this point I am so unsure of the time, and so overtaken by this strange sense of urgency, I leave the beach and run up to the nearest sign of humanity, of any sign of life, I find a white fence, and thankfully for a second, while I stand choking on my own aloneness, my own discomfort, trying to get some sort of semblance of normal feeling, I again feel someone standing behind me.
She crouches down and looks deep into my eyes, her skin glowing with an unearthly angelicness…
You heard them to, she says to me, not with her mouth, she thinks it at me, she thinks it over and over frantically, with a desperateness that lets me know that at least for this one moment, there is some peace in my universe of aloneness, that for one moment, even if it is just that one moment, someone, even if they are kidding me, even if they are making fun of me, is existing alongside me in a hallucination…
She starts laughing……….
I start laughing…. and for one moment, one moment in my entire life, I know what it is like to have someone who understands me.
I drop my wallet, I drop my wallet and look down, and wouldn’t care… I wouldn’t care, except there is something in my wallet that I think I need so I grab it and it falls out… she looks down and walks away………
I ruin everything in my life.
What place in the world do you never want to visit? Why?
I am not good at following rules,
Never been, never will be, a forever fool.
Never had a taste for being instructed what response to give, with neigh saying being the only way I live, addicted to perpetual fighting condescention
A way to fight my own sown rejection, inherent in everything I do or say, so I feared my whole life that one day I would have to stay, in institutions, jail or grave,
So I made the decision to my soul save, and put to rest the decision to run from place to place, and now I can say I am finally in a place where I fear no jail, instution, or grave situation, no longer existing in idealized fixation,
Instead in freedom do I currently live, so anywhere any place I am free to live.
In the dark of night a fire burns and creates light, the only light under a bridge, in a barrel without lid, burning free for all with site because no one cares no need to fight to hide anything at all because
There is no love for the ever shoved, no one will come to put it out, no one will scream, no one will shout, they want you warm and then want you free, to die under the bridge on your own bent knee, cast to the ground in twisted form, dying from own hand, and sick with scorn, you did it to yourself, now they can say, and so poor addict is thrown away.
The poor exist under bridges of a country, that forgets the addicted and poor and hungry, that ignores addiction and mental illness, and then questions sadness of it children.
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 used to see through different eyes, not through mine, but eyes that lied, that lay inside my head, but not, caught by despise and forever wrought with hatred read in all I did, they rested in a face of kid-ding and of attack, they looked in the mirror and saw nothing reflected back.
I had not eyes, but reflecting pools, filled with sadness, and with tragic tools to make myself just like everyone else, tools of magic that sat on shelf.
I would drink them and sometimes smell them, and sometimes prick my hands in vain, and sometimes they would make me, able to stand a very clear disdain.
″‘Precious, precious, precious!’ Gollum cried. ‘My Precious! O my Precious!’ And with that, even as his eyes were lifted up to gloat on his prize, he stepped too far, toppled, wavered for a moment on the brink, and then with a shriek he fell. Out of the depths came his last wail precious, and he was gone.”
J.R.R. Tolkein The Return of The King
J.R.R. Tolkein, The Two Towers
“Misery misery! Hobbits won’t kill us, nice hobbits.”
Do you see you?
Yes.
I see me too.
Put me in, try me on, I make everything easy.
I make life, black and white.
I make every fight yours.
Always and forever
You are the winner
Always and forever
And so we go, below….
I put things in that make my caring spread thing.
I put things in that make me want nothing else, except my own needs fulfilled to have my precious needs fullfilled.
I put on airs to make me not care when you touch me that way because it brings me closer to getting what I want, my precious…. my precious…..
I want you so my precious
Do you see me clearly now?
Do you see how
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSYYYYYYYYYYYY
It is…….to lose oneself…. in want…..
I did this weird meditation thing, so this reads like hypnotic thought:
This partially PTSD flashbacks that happened during a thunder storm.
I am here, but I am not, I am here, but I am caught, I hear you, but I don’t, I exist, but I won’t ever be quite as exactly here, as you, whatever I do, I am not exactly where you are. I exist very far, far away, and also always right next to whoever I am next to. I am next to you, but I am not, I exist, but I can’t exist the way you think I can, we are never exactly in the same place.
I am right where I am, sort of, kind of, but I also exist distantly extended throughout space, drifting faceless, over many different times, many different places, that I have been throughout time. I see them all simultaneously.
I am drifting, drifting, drifting.
I am over and over split between places, parts of me, everywhere I have ever been, spread thin, spread out, far from each other, peices lost throughout the universe.
I am not sure what is real, when it comes to this, because I see me and I see her, and she sees me, and I see her, and into a hole of chaotic transcendance, that is not transcendance….
I just looked it up, it is, Damien, just the second not the first definition.
I thought so.
I knew so.
You are an ***hole.
I was lonely, thank you.
If you wanted to know what it feels like to be us, me and my passenger, and her and me as passenger, it is very much like playing tag and then piggy backing on the shoulders of someone, except sometimes you are not playing tag, you are being chased through Hell, or running in heaven.
This is what the AI, thinks of this:
I am afraid of the AI. More on this later:
Welcome AI, here you go:
End AI Transmission
I am a fried egg, I come in black and white, just like the soul
That decided to live life in the dregs…
Underground….
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.
