Lovely Technicolor Angels from Hell

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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

Paint me like you saw me, a black and white rendering of a heart posessed by darkness and moral decay.

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.

I like eating dinner with me too.

***hole.

That’s what it is isn’t it?

What that you’re an ***hole? If that is what you mean than, yes.

No, that when I eat with you, I am eating with me.

Not exactly.

So pretty much.

This is pointless.

My point exactly.

I am sorry for the lack of clarity.

Baby please, get off your feet, and meet me on the ground.

Come back down, and hear the resounding sound of quiet.

You are daylight’s riot.

I wish only for quiet.

You are my fire fly. You are sunlight’s spy, a flashlight in the comfort of night sky. Hanging lights up so you can see, every bit of nature’s landscape clear to you, the lover of blue sky and morning dew.

Nothing of night pleasant or in view, you seek to chase away the dark vacantness, that is my permanent vacation nest. In everything you strive to erase or chase away, is every place I desire to stay.

I met you and began to think instantly of the holy trinity, not because of anything to do with religion, but because you seemed to me to be so divine there appeared to be three of you.

This is how you looked to me, not how you appeared to others

I had always questioned my ability to be like those who looked like me, and you affirmed every doubt I had, because I did not envy you, but wanted only to be someone you wanted, and you wanted someone the opposite of you.

I am not the opposite of you, but I am not sure what that means, because I am not what I am either. I am nothing, I think. I am constantly changing, reflecting only the light of other’s saving grace. I am in a place of constant lostness, at least when staring at your face.

Color me rainbow

Color me dark

I am forgetting where I start, and

Where Hell ends, looking instead at the ends of your hair, I am not all there.

I should not stare.

I am tragic hole in a human’s soul.

Yesterday and Early Mourning/Morning

The Cleansing Power of Looking Up

Re-Color

I am addicted to heroin, to heroine, to heroin, to heroine.

I am addicted to nothing right now actually, but think about you, about it, about you, about it

All the time, all the time, all the time.

I am addicted to heroin, to heroin, because you are not here with me, and actually none of this is true, except I miss you so much, and hate myself so much for the fact that I destroy everything that is good in my life.

What do head lights look like to those who run into them?

I am a runny picture of flowers,

I wonder what your painting would look like if, it was run over and over on the side of the highway, which you hated so much, but not enough to stop spending all my cash on ___________.

I am a bird with a rapid beating heart, I am tiny, and I dart away from those, without the sight, to see me pass, without a fight.

painted red like everything painted at someone, hinting at love, at passion, at everything she says she feels but running dripping colors of

Look at me, look at me, I am so badly hurt, look at me, I tell stories untold by human mouth, or loudly screamed above our **** couch..

Why is her artistic style so sad, looking like crying hands, that make me wonder what happened to this poor,

Bull**** artist, how about why do you paint flowers like you are crying over how your lover doesn’t love you, the flowers love you, and you are killing them with crying reds.

To the one I left behind

I am not quite sure if “normal” people worry as much as I do, or even if other addicts or other mentally ill people do, I worry every second I am awake, but I hate sleep because I am afraid of death, I didn’t know that, and just figured it out writing this. That is a lot of why I am doing this, I wanted to know who I even was. I was so caught up in defending myself against the attacks of my exes, I forgot who I even was, or maybe was never anyone to begin with. I have never been alone for longer than a month, always partners in crime with another drinker/user and always co-dependent on that person vice versa, we always existed in a symbiotic way, fueling eachother’s addiction. The worst was with Rei/Justin. The entire relationship centered around drugs, at least for me, I think they hate me as much as they do because of that, because at one point they really loved me, and the more that I think about it, while I emulated love… I never loved them as much as I loved the person I left to be with them, whose name I won’t say online because she asked me not to.

I am still partially in love with her as well, but she is still using, and I am so done, and she is done with me. She was always able to pay for her habits legally, she has her ways, and didn’t like my less conventional ways, so when she would kick me out I would go get high with Rei, and one day we decided to go to Cali together.

All the music I post on this site is thanks to my ex, the one before Rei. I loved her, stil do so much. She is the most beautiful person I ever met in my whole life, and she doesn’t even know it.

Rei was just as self involved as I am, which was great at first, because it made me feel better, but we were always ego sparing, except she was not willing to walk away at first, I am.

I always was, and it drove her nuts.

I miss California a lot, which is pathetic because what I am saying is I miss my lifestyle in California, I have an adrenaline issue, without something causing adrenaline release , I create problems on purpose to cause adrenaline release, another thing Rei/Justin hated and my other ex loved.

We used to throw glass bottles against our doors at our house, just to have something to clean when we were bored, and wanted to get rid of them before anyone saw them. Oh my god, I miss her.

When I say I miss California what I am really saying is I miss living on the streets and not caring about anything, because I am weak and this is hard.

Even if you don’t believe what I believe, the whole God or god thing, what I will say is this.. for me the reason it helps me is because in the Christian tradition the use of the character or real person Jesus, makes it possible for me to meditate on the idea of someone doing the right thing no matter what when faced with adversity, which is the opposite of what I do, and as much as I say I don’t care, that is the source of all my self-hatred the fact that I know what I should do, and do what I want anyway. That is one of the driving forces behind why I am doing any of this, I got tired of justifying being a bad person. I thought it might be simpler to just do the right thing.

I was always arguing with my higher power about if they only knew they would have done it my way, until it hit me that if I believe what I believe, and I do, then they know what to do because the outcomes have been weighed and the right thing produces the most desirable consequences.

That really bugs me out, and made me have a hissy fit about it, about the lack of the point of everything for decades. I figured that one out at 8. I almost died during nuerosurgery at 8, and grapled with the meaning of life from then onward.

I am tired of myself.

Peace

Damien

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2023/03/26/rdp-sunday-muskrat/

I didn’t know the river, that I thought was a river, was really a swamp. I couldn’t tell from where I was standing, it was too dark.

I had not paid much attention either, having had to make a quiet escape, while my “friend” was sleeping, so as to not offer any explanation and justify my leaving.

I am looking out over the water, I am hot and itchy, it has been days since I showered, and by days, I mean… probably weeks, probably a month. I don’t know the difference between the segments of time, they make no difference to me anymore. I am itchy, and there is water… or ehm.. I was itchy.. and there was water… I am not good at the whole tense thing sometimes either… I am always tense…….. tense….. it is just a state of mind….

I jump into the river, or what I think is a river, and it feels good for a second, just one, till I realize what I have done, and the fatal error I have made. This is a swamp. I panic, pulling at weeds, and struggling to not sink too far into it, it takes me 45 minutes to escape my failure at showering, and I look like a drowned muskrat.

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

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

Not mine, not a wild boar, not hers

I just thought of this because I am

INSANE

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

IT DOESN’T

And there is no fear in me to admit

WEAKNESS

Anymore, because I have realized that the

WEAKNESS

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

FEAR

And I am no longer

AFRAID

Or have to roll around in

AGONY

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

I am your admission that your guilt is real,

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

FAILED

But I am also your strength in admitting this and

Casting it out.

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

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

I am you. I am fighting you

To be real

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

UNREAL

Making you unreal with a desire to un-feel.

The late hours of the night are so much more peaceful now, thank you God.

I am so grateful to be sitting here, able to get up without people thinking I am going into the bathroom to fire heroin into my arm, I am thankful they are seeing a change in me, because I want so bad for my existence to cause no more pain on this planet, than it already has, thank you God and to anyone who has helped me in any of this.

I am elated to be in the quiet of my house with my family sleeping soundly instead of killing themselves of me killing me, and me being pissed because I think they are being selfish for not wanting my arms to stop being covered with sleeves in the summer when I hate long sleeves but I am cold all the time, no longer.

I am so grateful for this. I am able to type right now instead of having a bed time like a child because I am no longer in a shelter.

I am so happy.

Thank you.

Damien

Can it!

Okay.

I am spinning back and forth space, thinking man isn’t this great, I am no longer doing anything to cause harm, missing hands no longer missing arm

Cheap shot

No, it wasn’t it cost 20$

Every time I fired up desire to live. I am disgusting.

I am glib I am mean I am ad lib?

Add liberation, an activity devised to be liberating, even though I am pretty sure that is not how you spell that, but to lazy to check that, so don’t judge me, I know everything, even though I don’t.

I am learning okay.

Yes, I see that.

You are me, of course you see that.

Lunatic.

You are talking to yourself again.

I know, I am.

At least it is on a screen not a street corner scaring people and at least now I am just insane not high and insane threatening people with posed presence into giving up cash to a man holding a sign at 3 am.

Yeah that too.

I gross my own self out.

Me too.

Thanks jerk.

You’re welcome self.

Right back at you.

I like double shots too.

Heh.

Below the belt.

Yeah.

It is the best thing in the world sometimes, and one of the reasons I do not miss sweat drenched sticky frog skin meth covered itchy scratch me writhing in dirt filth.

I am so happy to be clean and sober and away from that insanity. I am almost done with dressing the decaying wounds of the rotting infection that is going away finally. Stupid MRSA. I hate you.

That will teach me to never poke my heroes with pins again.

Heh. That was a horrible joke, and very reflective actually, I just said my heroes were my veins, nice metaphor for vanity and insanity. I like that one, this is why I have this thing. I like myself a little more now.

I am enjoying watching the cat that walked in here and decided it was his new house, he lives in both universes and is my and Amanda’s cat because our universes are merging slowly. I like it, it’s kind of like melting, except it feels like a massage for your brain?

I am done, I no longer have anything to say.

Peace.

Damien

Do you find

Do you run and combine

Concubine so binding, so ever minding, so reminding of your station and fixation with deviant sensation bringing temporary elation, but really just a meditation on

DEATH

Do you seek to die little girl or boy in a world

So cruel

I WILL TAKE OUT YOUR EYE IF YOU MOVE!

You will lose voice in my head that speaks of dread

I am not dead, I am not bread. I am not food.

I am addicted to life in hand.

I am man. I am loud. I cry out.

**** you!

You will eat what you have known and chewed, which my

LEG

Poison meat. So sweet.

Heroic for you, see I can do it too

Overdose on me.

Seasoned by disease.

I am free free free

I am me

Unshackled by the attacking attacker of lacking sacked madness

I am the hacky sacker playing with hands not taken away.

I am clay staying to play

I am go away

Misery

Today is not your ******* day.

My wife has started taking Joy with her on walks, we don’t like to go anywhere alone, because there is not a witness if something happens. I am extremely paranoid, and having an adult child is a good antidote. I do not mean to say that our daughter is our caretaker or something, she very much has her own life. My wife and I just make it possible now for her to be open and honest with us about everything, so that she can come to us with anything. I know she will most likely follow the same path we did, and I am not going to try and stop her, just be a kind voice, providing guidance when her lifestyle choices fail like ours did. I want her to have what we deprived ourselves of, understanding. Amanda had this understanding her whole life and squandered it. Not unlike me, in my parallel misery a pain miser, squandering my whole life in pursuit of flesh, worshiping death and existing in perpetual soul sucking spinning, falling over at the knees… sorry not right now…

Look at this.

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

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

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

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

I find myself yelling at this computer sometimes and telling it to stop telling me what to do, because I have already gotten yelled at by Amanda’s parents or my parents heh.. for doing weird shit like yelling at inanimate objects.

Hacer means to do, which is weird because for some reason I always thought it meant to work, which speaks to my lack of understanding of Spanish which speaks to my laziness and self involved nature which highlights why doing anything is work and I yell at objects for talking to me when they are not.

We are standing in a bar

In the back, me you and that guy I used to know with the long blonde hair.

I liked that f*^&#.

I know you did, he was basically you, just less intelligent.

Everyone is less intelligent than you.

You are just complimenting yourself.

I know, isn’t it great.

I thought you were going to spend time with your wife?

I am she is asleep on the couch behind me, my daughter is being punished for the wall incident.

She’s being punished because you kicked a dent in a car?

Yeah, because she should have known I would have done that.

Why?

Because what else was I going to do?

Be man and do the right thing.

You be a man and do the right thing.

I can’t.

What be a man or do the right thing?

I don’t even know what the right thing is.

Well it’s not tricking a&^&*%^$ at the bar to buy drinks for you and then getting paid by blonde me in things I won’t mention.

It’s not? Who knew.

You realize we are the villains in every movie that ever movie ever and also the least sympathetic characters ever?

Nope, even the devil deserves sympathy.

Did you just quote the stones?

It’s written on one of Rei’s painted rocks in here, but yes also the band even though only a couple of their songs are good.

I like Paint it Black and give me shelter.

Of course you do, demands are great aren’t they?

Yeah, why wouldn’t they be.

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

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

If I am honest

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

I don’t like waiting for anything. Pride.

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

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

Enough of that.

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

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

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

Who’s voice am I?

Listen to me?

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