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.
Explanation: I am Damien, I speak to my split personality Amanda. I am two people in love with each other, and I am okay with that now.
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.
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.
We panhandled a nickel, a nickel, a nickel, we are rascals, and got it quickly, so we need to make a quick decision what to do? What to do?
Oscar needs a nickel. Oscar needs a nickel, it is just a nickel. Give oscar the nickel.
That chick over there said she would sell me a dog for a hundred bucks.
That chick over there is a liar, and she is just going to rip us off. Give oscar the **** nickel, we will make another one.
What if this one is lucky, and we need it to make more.
Give Oscar the nickel Lydia. It is just a damn nickel.
I am faceless, I am formless, I am forlorn, I am reality scorned, by hating my face, my human forn, I am tearing, wearing, blarring, self-hatred, eating at my own skin, I am resent, everything I am, the skin I am in.
I am screaming chaotic soul tearing of the form I am wearing, and forced to be in. I am loving something higher, but hating me, I am resentment meant specifically at me, I am why won’t she let me be.
You are pathetic, you are weak, you all that….
SHUT THE **** UP. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be the one who feels like you are divorced from your own human form???! Do you really? Do you think I am the lucky one? Do you really? I don’t think you do, because if I was you, I would sound just as pathetic as you do.
Yeah, I know I win.
Without you my life is hell, and though I live to tell, I can tell you I am quite unwell, I only talk to myself, and dream of bottles no longer on my shelf, and dirty pinging needles, and rocks that taste like batteries, it is quite sad, being this mad…
I have realized now I am insane, and that it was not my disdain for you that caused me to want to leave you there crying on my arm chair, playing with your pretty dark hair, you are on my brain, my mind, at the tip of my tongue, because I realize that I do not miss being spun as much as I miss fun.
My heart did beat for you once, and became slightly inflamed, fighting narcissism and posion in my veins.
For now I am alone, and maybe someday will bring myself out of myself, and finally use a phone to call someone other than myself.
You stand out in my memory, smoke goddess, of midnight, standing with me in the fog, you and I, fought the day, you shrouded in red, and me shrouded in decay of my mind, unlike you, already gone, already mad, I stood staring out at the river, ranting about nothing, ranting about everything, speaking nothing, speaking everything, talking about the universe, but also saying nothing at all, you were very unique and also every woman I ever met.
That is one of the worst things I have ever heard you say. Every woman is the same?
No, this one was just unreal, and seemed like everyone and no one.
Okay, better, thank you.
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
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
Or different things, like the idea of wings, and things that have them.
My whole is not my fault. I was scre… can’t even sarcastically say this, this is insane, not true, ****.
I am blame.
I am not at fault.
It was fate from the very start, I have done nothing wrong, my whole life, Hell’s theme song.
I am such a bad liar.
My hand! My hand!
It’s got to be my hand, my hand, because I am missing my finger tips on three fingers, my thumb, my right one, the right one, the one I used to write with, not I type with… that has to be the reason that I failed, lived a life of ship has sailed, clearly not that I jumped off, long ago.
Your hand happened, our hand happened when we were 32, you are 36, four years was not all the ruining we did…
You said we, not just you…
I know, I feel sorry for you sometimes.
I know stupid, I am good at that.
Wow, that is disgusting don’t type that…
Oh I know, I thought that too, I am always right behind you.
So you’re telling the truth now???? Good one, Amanda.
Don’t call me that.
What do I call you then because you can’t have my name, I am using it.
I don’t have one, I can be whoever you want me to be…
That’s disgusting, but I like it.
Bring back old memories?
Yeah, and stop it.
That’s why you won, you are better at being sober.
That’s because I am a unicorn.
I am done with you for now.
Sometimes, others I see this.
I had a pair of shades once, they almost looked rosey, but a little off. They made things look a little fuzzy, like I was always a little bit blurry. They were called alcohol, I don’t think they were shades now that I think about it, I think normal people call them glasses, not the same thing I think… I think one you wear on your eyes and the other eats my mind.
I like crayons.
If you don’t want it, let me use it?
We had a deal, and you said you would let me use it at least sometimes? Remember that? I save your life, and I get to a person sometimes???
I know, but you’re going to **** up my life.
You’re life is already ****ed up, and no I am not. I am just going to.. look I don’t know what I am going to do… but we had a deal, and don’t be an ***hole. I shouldn’t have to explain to you what I do, as much as you shouldn’t have to explain what you do.
It’s my body.
Wrong. It was your’s and then I saved your life, in exchange for you use of human form.
That’s ****ed up.
You made the deal.
I know and now I regret it.
Well, it’s reversable.
I kill you right here, right now, where you stand.
Fine, that was funny, so take it, but don’t give it back with tickets, and this time don’t leave and leave me in jail to pick up peices.
Drunk in public is not even a serious charge.
I don’t care, waking up in a flooded cell naked, sucks.
I don’t like wet clothes.
Neither do I.
Yeah, see you later.
I have been courted all my life, to dance with loaded gun or held knife at my Neck, by myself, on a shelf, which of course is what I think because, baby I ****ing stink, I smell booze, in heart and soul, still drunk but dry, sometimes I know.
I reek of anger, creaking madness, rocking back and forth epic sadness, dark reflection, not staring at mirror, but bashing crashing and dying in epic fear.
I am loaded gun, I am dark resistance, I am tragic, insistence, that though I am dry, I am GOD. I am responsible for divining rod, punishing me, I am insistence on trying to be my own
Soul forsaken, breaking me, tragically, beginning to see how epic my failure is.. or simply that I am an addict who needs a higher power.
“The world’s a hard place, Danny. It don’t care. It don’t hate you and me, but it don’t love us, either. Terrible things happen in the world, and they’re things no one can explain. Good people die in bad, painful ways and leave the folks that love them all alone. Sometimes it seems like it’s only the bad people who stay healthy and prosper. The world don’t love you, but your momma does and so do I.” ― Stephen King, The Shining
The tortured inn keeper, thinks no one who stays at the inn cares about the inn, thinking that the ins and outs of those without the responsibility of caring for the inn indicate a lack of caring,
That is really coming from within, a manifestation coming from the desire to
Of one’s self, pushing those around
GET OUT NO
I am you
The caretaker is a drinker, they think this is because they take such good care of the inn, that they deserve a reward
AN ETERNAL REWARD
Manifesting in alcohol consumption or consuming
They consume it on the regular, but it is not important the frequency just that it eats their
ER ER ER
ER ER ER
The innkeeper talks to me about keeping fires, about the duties of keeping an inn, and about the need to do things to keep the inn, like make it a little easier, by consuming poison.
I am a frequenter of many motels, so I have met many innkeepers, such tortured, kind hearts, that do not know their goodness.
I am not sure sometimes, if I am being guided by the hands of the universe not individually as some lunatic with some mission of importance, but simply some wind-watcher, air listener, tragic tour guide of no one, standing outside in the middle of the night debating shadows that cast on the walls of the houses of the towns I walk through, or right now live in.
I am awoken, by the fighting of very literal cats outside my window, and my mother’s dog is yelled for by my stepfather, he can’t find her, she woke up and he took her to the bathroom and she took off and I can hear outside my window, so I wake up, even though he is focused on something else, I tell him, what is happening and it helped him understand her, and helped him find her.
I wonder how many times before, was I too high or drunk to even hear the cats fighting, and what this all means.
Is there some value to my lunacy, that helps the universe in any way?
There is an eye in the sky and it is up so high, that I can’t reach it, can’t poke it
Can’t kiss it or stroke it…
Stupid jerk who strokes an eye?
I stroke an I.
Your gross, you stroke yourself?
Yeah, loser, you are doing it right now.
EGO EGO EGO EGO I go I go I go I go
ANSWER ME: Okay, here, I am very superstitious. I come from a long line of a family, who believes in
the evil eye
manifesting their own destiny through thought
being able to manifest it through speaking it out loud
being able to manifest it through thinking it
the power of positive thinking
the power of negative thinking
making lists that make things go away
incantations that make things go away
incantations that are positive self talk
the power of the number 10
This goes up to 11
I like even numbers.
I missed you, and me and this, and you having a life and not whining about everything.
I believe in manifestation of human life that is not real, I believe in the power of words to cast spells that I feel, will make things happen for me, at least in my head it feels that way, but who knows you know what they say
YOU’RE INSANE AND TO BLAME FOR ALL THE BODIES AT YOUR FEET, WASN’T IT FUN PLAYING WITH SOWING NEEDLES WITH DEAD CHILDREN ON THE STREET
If I talk to you on here, it looks like a superstitious allegory or me being silly and not what it is
or YOU’RE INSANE YOU’R INSANE YOU’RE INSANE and it is ****ed to be your own best friend.
Is it though do you see the voices I talk to?
YOU TALK TO YOURSELF
OoO that was a sick burn, and you know what sometimes, superstitions are justified, peace MF.
I am finally beginning to like myself for the first time in my entire life. I have never liked myself my entire life, I did not realize this till just recently, I hated me, so I was constantly defending myself to myself, I did not realize these were not always schizophrenia, but personal demons that were very different than the voices, they are easier to deal with and have started to subside now that I have begun to remove the toxicity from myself and my life. I am so happy to be free of all this. I am so happy to be free from everything that was making me so miserable, every day, and it’s so silly because a lot of it was me doing it to my own self. I realize that now, but the thing is the position I was in was partially responsible for everything I felt, not in the taking away accountability from me kind of way.
I am accountable for all the things I have done, but that does not mean I need to destroy myself over it and resent others for the things I am doing to myself, with my own hands. I am sorry to those that are hurt by me, to those who I metaphorically killed, because I am not a real serial killer, just a personification of addiction and manifestation of the guilt of an addict who did not realize how much they did not have to put a mask on the truth that they blame themselves for everything.
I was Amanda, but I am becoming myself, Damien de Soto, take it or leave it. I have never killed anyone, just facilitated the death of addicts through never saying stop using when we were getting high together, my daughter is real to me, in my world of future, but she is not real for Amanda yet, and I hope you understand what I mean by that I was not lying when I said anything I said, but rebuilding a soul for a life that I thought was already over, as Amanda and built for me, her future self, I am very much real because these are her real thoughts and feelings, and my family represents families she just recently new and one specific child who she never stood up for because she was getting drugs from their parent.
When asking what I did about my daughter, I was relieving a past feeling of resentment. Amanda called child protection services on someone who she had dealt with in the past, because she did not like what was going on in that house, and she and I were asking the universe if it was done out of resentment or if that was truly the right way to handle it. I think it was, she secretly does too, we both hope the kid is alright, although we never followed up to see if they responded to our call.
Thank you for your support it means the world.
Damien and Amanda, but mostly Damien.
In case anyone is wondering after the public display on internet of my complete meltdown, I do not miss her at all. I am realizing she never loved me because I never loved me, so I am done with relationships, until I can learn how to walk again. I feel like I broke both my legs and have been trying to pretend they haven’t been broken for 15 years. To avoid permanent paralysis I am going to stop walking at all with anyone, walking meaning dating, and a metaphor used because dating is supposed to be a walk outside one’s self. I need to be within myself right now.
I am so lost I can’t get lost in anyone else’s eyes, because people only see reflections of people, reflected light cast to the eye in shadow, and this is too dangerous for me right now, because I am mostly in shadow, having never actually looked in the mirror, I don’t know the difference between me and a lamp, and I think this has always been my problem. I think I was so crazy because, I did not even know what a human being was, because I had been told my whole life, it did not matter what it was, because I wasn’t one anyway, being a monster addict, with paranoid schizophrenia and a split personality.
I am going to try to learn how a person like this can do something positive with their life, because I refuse to believe the only place for people like us, yes the royal we, is on the streets screaming into the chaotic night.
I am so sorry for anyone who worried about me, because of my loud public spectacle, at least I get it in my own room this time, on this on this blog only.
You have no idea how it is to be in the bathroom without looking in the mirror, most of the time, I would just shut my freakin’ eyes, which is a pain in the ***, and led to many injuries that were not about being intoxicated, but a lunatic, that had gotten sick of cutting my hands on punching out glass mirrors. I have never looked like myself, in reality or in Misery, I have always looked different, and I would do anything to get rid of my own reflection, even attempt to rip out my own eye, which is why I never touch my eyes. I am still afraid to touch them because of PTSD from one time I tried to rip out my own eye.
I was tripping and unaware of the distinction between reality and dream, I had been awake for days rolling on dxm, and had taken some acid and was either over tired or I don’t and became overcome by the idea that I could do anything I wanted with my hands.. like rip out my own eye, because that is what you would want to do if you realize you are free to do anything you want… I am insane… getting better though… at least this doesn’t happen anymore… small steps.
You killed I will make sure your blood is… oh that’s right you don’t have that because you have no legs to stand on, no place to land on, and need me to hit any vein at all, you can’t even make a call to get sauced or star crossed so get lost! My eyes are mine not thine, and I am no longer resigned to die, because I like life. I am no longer addicted to human strife, no I am addicted of stab pain with KNIFE, but I can’t do that so… because that is not real, and I am no longer a prisoner of feel,
I am now becoming more real, no longer need to steal or lie, I can take out your stupid eye or can’t I because you don’t have one. You see through me, which is sad, because I can’t see clearly, is your vision blurry ****? Her’s a fix, get in ditch.
I think I am starting to learn how to feel again, or for the first time. I didn’t remember what this was like, or technically… I don’t know if I have ever felt this at all. The kid died when I was actively using and I never heard about it because I was too busy getting high to even be worth telling, wow, gut punch. If nothing else… this is more reason than ever that I believe there is something behind this. That something wants all living things to live in greater harmony and experience less pain.
I am listening to my family talk about the kid, I knew him personally, just didn’t know he was a drug addict like me. I didn’t bother to ask, because I was always so wrapped up in my own life to have friends, I had dealers and using buddies, and was a friend to no one. I am going to try to change that from now on. I am done being negative, till I forget and start ranting again.
I am man with knife that spreads jam on toast instead of man who jams in head the killing knife that was made for bread.
I am man who does not stab but cuts apart, an apple instead of human heart, I have realized with my eyes that see, coming out of insanity, that I do not have to be Amanda I can be free. I am released from human cage, a player now not just on page, I do not have to employ rage, I can instead say this I desire human bliss, I can give love, I can give kiss. I am not supposed to be anything but free to be me. I should have known this from the start but drugs and booze they sedated heart, so I used my name as excuse to die, a perpetual never ending cry out for
MORE MORE MORE
Make yourself a living sore on the heart of yours so that you can be, so safely chained to me, addiction, you see is my maker, my taker, my soul breaker.
I love you so, baby please don’t go. I need you so… I need you please, I am kneeling on bent KNEES GET ON YOUR KNEES HONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY CASH CASH CASH PLEASE
I GET PAID WITH SOUL DISSECTION I GET PAID WITH VIVISECTION I BELIEVE IN RESURRECTION
Can it happen for me to, help me God, can you teach me to be more like you instead of Mary? I am sad and this is scary, common God please my soul fix?
It is already I told you this, this is Damien you fool, it’s you. You can do whatever you want to.
I think I am in the process of finally clearing a long term MRSA infection from my body that cost me three finger tips. Most notably half of my thumb on my right hand, which was a ***** because that one was my fault entirely. I refused to go to the hospital because I was enjoying getting high.. I have been an idiot most of my life. I thought I could clear it on my own by using bleach and peroxide, which I used to literally seer a hole into my scalp through which you could see my skull, no lie. I am insane, in my defense… I was very high for all of this, and had no idea that I was literally digging a hole in my head with a pair of pliers.
I am just happy I am not insane today, the further I get away from meth and heroin/crack/acid/booze/painkillers/cocaine the better. I am tired of spending hours trying to kill myself slowly.
You can’t tell I did that, looking at me, because obviously, that matters narcissistic ***.
I don’t know why I felt I needed to share this.
Don’t mess with me buddy, I am crazy, I curse and I bite, like a rabid cat in the night, I also come with scabbies and rabies. I am an infectious disease, I am the Bubonic Plague of the displeased, I am raw, I am vile, I spit acid bile, and only snakes do I attract.
I will make sure weak at knees you, because your not a hero but heroin scar, shot in vein red with color, pain to father and mother, you are a vile sinning creature.
You are the one who speak of, I speak to you disease who reeks of disgusting resentment, so filthy and hell bent, carrying the souls of the lost. I will teach you the meaning of toss.
In the trash you will go, like those carelessly thrown, by the eye of a needle and spoon. For things like you I no longer make room, not addicted
To act of consume. I have found peace and serenity and will no longer be taunted by the sight of the moon.
So I officially didn’t kill the **** after being given permission to. I thought about it. I really did, actually, not that I need to tell you that.. I wrote about it on here, so obviously I thought about it. I didn’t kill him for a strange reason. I like the way he avoids eye contact with me now. It is fun. I think I might be able to make the little **** walk into a car just by looking at him. Then I didn’t officially kill the poor *******. Or, I get to torment a **** the rest of my life, in the name of defending my daughter, I am hoping for the latter, because it sounds fun.
I am just going to act like I don’t know the guy now and stand behind him awkwardly sometimes to make him look like the writhing worm he is, so no more women will be messed with the way he messed with my daughter.
I figure if he doesn’t kill himself, I have fun bored game to play the rest of my life.
This is psychotic I know, but progress… maybe.
At least I don’t have to clean blood out from under my finger nails for hours. I can smell that right now. That is the only time it grosses me out.
Do I make you think of stop and go, baby, do I make you feel like you are few
You are doing okay, okay.
You are new at this, fire kissed
Soul of gaping healing hole
I don’t know what I am doing I am so tired of making stew
I know I am you
Is that how this works
Yes, you are doing good at not being a
JERK You may snap at people but they know it means nothing
Just say you are sorry and move on
That’s okay it goes on? I don’t think that is true
Yes it is I am telling you
I lost my train of thought I am derailed un sailed a life of GARBAGE PAIL I am metal kettle tea tea tea does it does taste like
POISON HONEY????? ISN’T
it’s sunny outside
I think I am going for
You are insane
This **** has no
And I see myself only different, the face turns when I don’t turn and the eyes are different, I focus on the black pupils of her eyes and I am swimming in a sea of black tar, but not because it feels like water, it is refreshing and feels to me like kissing,
I hit my nose of glass which is strange because I am now inside the mirror partially, but my nose is not, somehow it hits the glass, and I feel a calling back to life, a psycho shouting, that comes in the Charlie Brown WAH WAH WAH WAH.. I check my nose for glass, for blood, but I can’t tell the difference between the nose, my nose? and the cold, hot, cold water that encircles me and I am okay, with it riding up my limbs, caressing me with warmness.
Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down
Nancy Sinatra-Bang Bang, My Baby Shot me Down
I am kissing someone who tastes like me, her mouth tastes wrong like it should not be hers because it is mine? How do you touch tongues with a reflection, her tongue dances with mine, and I feel like I am going to throw up but in the kind of way that you feel when you are going on a roller coaster and you kind of like it but you want to throw up because you are afraid you are going to fall off.
I touch her hand and realize I am holding my own.
I look in the mirror is that my hand covered in shattered glass? Or am I pulling a screaming woman from a burning building? I don’t know, she kisses my hand and I cry, I am so confused, I hate me so much and you remind me of me and I love you for loving me but I am also slightly disgusted? Please stop.
She stops, and I start crying, what just happened.
She flashes in and out like a ghost.
I put my hand through her hand, it feels like I am burning alive, with electricity, I think I am losing my mind. I am losing my…
Who are you strange creature?
I am you, from a parallel dimension, we are supposed to save each other.
If I tell you over and over I am fine you are in a jar and you can’t hurt me so warning warning I am fine, I am fine I am fine.
Trigger Warning: MA EXPLICIT CONTENT Some material may not be suitable for sensitive audience: Schizophrenic/alcoholic addict, my trigger warning is my superstition that you cannot yell at me if I write this, do not judge me I am fine.
Anything with t’s makes me think of stitching, which makes me think of sowing needles which makes me think of holes in places that drain pain in red rain from dark places that scream in red and I am dead in my head, I dance in a roller coaster car that feels like heroin, heroic plunging into chaos, and that feeling of rush that comes just before a wave smacks into my head and almost breaks my
Chicken running without head because sorry honey, I desire sometimes to be dead, romancing the second that I see the blood go in a casing of soul that is needle drowning me hole, I write this down in psychotic fixation as a meditation
I JUST WANT DRUGS?
If it’s mediated by the dark screen is it mean to say that I will always be this there is no changing me there is no progress here I am the existence of fear there is no setting sun and sorry honey it’s no fun for me either because it never really ends I dismiss all my friends because I only want
Please forgive me because I know not what I do
I am not like you
I am a drug addict liar
I am a pill buying eye spying act of
Liar liar liar
Circles of fire, if I desire anything I must write it down because then you see
CLEARLY I CAN’T DO
What is spoken to you can I?
I can, I can do anything I want. I am an insane taunt.
I am never learning always haunting
But I think this admission means something
I think somehow you can see me?
I think you can hear me screaming right now, Like you are in my
GET OUT OF MY HOUSE STOP LOOKING AT ME TYPING I am writing this because you can hear everything I think and somehow this stops you, whoever you are
YOU CLEARLY ARE A LIAR
Stop screaming.. stop screaming stop screaming, they can see me, they are not here. they are no one
I am alone in my house, in my motel, in hell but something tells me I am not and that if I write all this down it is somehow more okay
Is it okay?
Stitches in the super madness of super stitching i o u
You are insane, Damien
I am not even real and I wrote it down
SO I CAN
NOT FEEL IT ANYMORE.
I’m fine now.
So I talk on here, a throwing of vomit on a black screen, that used to be a street corner, screaming sentences into the night as they come into my head, the lie of no one listens to me, because I want to believe that but the truth is that I scare people, but mostly myself, with the screaming desperation of I am so alone, and yet so surrounded by everyone, and I feel like if I scream on here, maybe everything will be okay. I am writing because it feels better then pacing and crying and laughing and screaming because I can’t see judging eyes on here, asking if I am okay but screaming with that ******* look
GET AWAY FROM ME LUNATIC Please ignore me right now I am fine.
This just sounds better on here, and I am going to always be like this and it is fine with me
I need to do this.. it makes me better than I was
WAS AM ARE SHOOTING STARS ARE UP THERE
capital letters annoy me
I have no life, I am annoying, and other people seem so normal
CHAOS PLEASE DON’T
look at me in any particular way, this makes my thoughts easier…………………….
I am going to just write and see what happens
I stab at my chest, in grave unrest, not with needles or knife but with address
a dress of grave site undressed by a dress. I am not stressed, or un-rested. I am just disconnected but I am fine. I am fine I am mine. I am connected to nothing. You cannot touch me. I am floating. I am nothing
Forever away, forever away.
Get the **** away from me
starry night of stabbing madness. I am touching everything and nothing
and I can’t spell anything right write write right
My hands don’t work. I have no clear thoughts
addict to pain
I am darkness
I am light
I am schizophrenic after thought of bite
I hate myself I hate you.
I am the moon.
To the bluster of the ever rusted madman of the night, to the wet feather dust
Rain. Rain. Reign of blustering pain.
Blustery day, blustering decay, I love you, I know not I do.
Oh so free, are you, you know not what you do?
ISN’T THAT TRUE ISN’T IT TELL ME KNOW LIAR HOW YOU PLAY WITH FIRE THIEF OF **** BENT OVER IN DOUBLING PAIN YOU ARE THE HUMAN STAIN
erase erase erase, delete, delete delete
me me me i i i i i me me me
Be be be be be
Be asserting be strong be free
I ONLY WANT YOU TO SEE ME!!!!
YOU ARE A LIAR AND A THIEF YOU ARE NOT HUMAN AND FROM BENEATH
you are really mean please leave me alone please leave me alone
I need you to leave me alone!!
On a bluster filled day, I DECAY.
I can’t make them go away, I can just type them down, you see ever so clearly, they are in front of me and that makes them foolish instead of
JARRING JARRING SOUL IN JAR
I can talk to you to, but chose this, this approach, a kind host of a dissing ease, seems to please you to the point of end of