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.
I am cemented in the memory of my author, I am cemented in the creator of this image, I am cemented by the creator of this image.
In cement it lay, and forever will it stay.
I am covered over, an image protected and rejected by protection, destroyed by idolization, a picture of objectification, a picture of self-love.
Are you sure that is not just what you are seeing because you project yourself on your interpretation of it?
I am correct.
I am an attack on human soul, by protection of image which in fact eats everything whole, creating the potential for the whole image to become a hole.
Manilla, Manilla, in Vanilla, Vanilla, now just a stain on my brain, you make me insane.
I don’t think the image…
I know, just rambling because I like to hear myself talk.
You are typing.
I am also whispering this to myself, because I am insane.
His name was Chris which is ironic, because he is a christian, so I think it is a set up somehow, like somehow someone is sending someone to spy on me and naming the characters they send after me in mocking style, because obviously I am that important right? Didn’t realize at the time, how ****ing narcissistic that was, and it is only now, that the paranoia is starting to fade, that there is not some secret plot to take me down specifically, because I am just a lying drug addict alcoholic, and I am not sure why being a serial killer sounded better than that… I have no idea.. it made me feel less powerless… I think.
I am very angry at myself about all this, because looking back at it, I realize how much of *** I was… how even though I thought I was always getting ripped of and deserved so much better, how much better could you expect your life to be when you are con-artist who panhandles for heroin, and basically tries to make people afraid to not give you money. I used to make 200 dollars a day doing this, the key was to look like you are going to rob them for more than they give you freely, and then if you get caught, you are a pretty girl, and you change your voice, and Damien is your ex boyfriend who put you up to it, and he hits you and you just want to get away.
I was such a piece of ****.
Then you tell me to go away, and I won’t I will watch you, as you tell her you know what’s best for us, her, you say weak demon that you are… you tell her I am every person whoever hurt her.
I don’t even have hands, and why would I kill myself? I live in her mind, that makes
And she believes because
GO AWAY DAMIEN Did it save you honey, is it making all of this funny instead of being what it is, with your nose runny with blood from his kiss of
You don’t punch back because he is ****
That lacks soul, or a reeking soul caged lack of man manifesting in a soul not whole.
YOU WILL NOT TOUCH ME I WILL GO AWAY GET AWAY FROM US DON’T TOUCH HER
She doesn’t belong to you, Damien you are the devil, it is in your name.
My name means tame.
She belongs to me now.
She is a human being sir, not an answer to the cancer that is your chaotic soul.
I AM HER TOO. DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME TO GET OUT OF A BODY THAT IS HALF MINE
I get it.
DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH ME
She is not you, Damien, you are the devil.
THAT WAS A MOVIE DUMMY YOU ONLY WANT HER MONEY FOR
I am saving the heroine.
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.
I live in a land of bluster, of never feather duster, of dirty, of unclean, of eternally mean bad dream, and horrible as I seem, I am also very mean
I mean to say I am storm, I am not calm that is for sure, I am arrogant and life’s a chore. I live for me, you see, perpetual and free to be
CHAINED PRISONER OF DISSING ME AND YOU IHATEMEANDYOUTOO
But, that is not always true, I am hurr of whirring Cain.
I am the acid rain. I am the will to pain.
I am the will of dying you.
I am dying to, oh look at me a storm.
I am forever scorn. I am life unborn and sure isn’t it sad for me too? I am just like you
But I am not because the blood in my vain veins runs hot with
Hold the e, for poetic censor me.
heroic fire storm of hero reborn out of death storm of blustering decay.
But, getting better blustery day go
Addict in transition
Do you share toast with ghost, I roast marshmallows with clear colored men, defenders of addict pen, they made me chains for my legs, and pegs for holes in my arms.
I am a toast with the roast of the flesh of the ghost, clear, black, blue, and white. I hang out at night and hide from light
Unless it used bright as fire of desired dark, clear or white with delight.
I lied before I built the chains myself, I got the idea from my eternal burning hole in a cell called human shell, I shoot poised darts wet with poison spell, I know nothing but the idea of pain repel. I shoot fire and live to tell. I love the dark but hate pain that swells, in my arms and legs made with fire, I am built with bricks of death laid desire, I was born to die, and heroic in heart, which I fire with poison praying it will start
The day comes and I curse the mourn, everything is boring and life’s a chore, what am I doing on this deadly ride, why do I stay at an amusement park when I am nauseous and would rather die than ride
One more thing ever again.
I hate this poison and miss my dead friends.
I have seen some **** that has changed my perspective, to acknowledge that there are truly divided forces that fight for misery versus mercy. I saw this in a callously formed Misery driven land that I don’t like to speak of that much on here, because it terrifies me, but I will tell you this, if you think that there are psycho evil worshiping cults out there, I saw them. I met them. I am terrified of them, they are insane, and driven by addiction to human suffering, sadism and masochism inflicted on lost souls. That is the reason for most of my change of heart of darkness.
I have always believed in what I now display on here, I just kept it hidden even at times, to my own self, as I lived in denial and resentment that there are forces higher than me at play, being ever envious of the higher than me part, because I am an addict addicted to myself. I don’t want myself to be owed to anyone but me, but I can’t deny what I have came to know as true through it saving my life, because God or my higher power if you prefer the more secular term, is the only thing that explains why I am not dead, I have been kidnapped, held hostage, beaten, strangled, held at gun point, held hostage, and tortured, because I messed with the wrong people, and by mess I mean that I bought drugs instead of buying food.
I am standing up for myself on here, by saying it was God or my higher power that I can credit with the only reason I am alive, because “the horror, the horror”. I have once had someone lock me in a box. I was in there seven hours. I have had people give me sedatives that make it so I cannot walk in my drugs, so now I will never buy drugs from anyone ever again, except weed in the form of legal CBD.
I have been compelled to be sober, because I have started asking myself,
why does this person want me to be high so bad? What do they want?
This is what I tell my daughter, it is my reason for religious awakening, and my revamping of my whole life around anything positive.
And now this.
Found this lounge singer style version of the song, which I learned was originally made a long time ago, and covered by Smith. I had no idea, the things you learn from listening to Amanda’s life. My life too.
I am still getting used to that, she made peace with her dad, which is great because resentment is the self-hating mind killer, and both of us are very practiced in the art of slow death. I would rather spend my cash on laughs, nicotine and fire works. I haven’t gone back to that store yet. I used to work there, and they fired me for using drugs… meh… stupid firework store…
This house is getting more peaceful. I am realizing the effect people have on each other, and how much I used to poison those around me. My wife is so much more serine now, and doesn’t **** me off anymore, and I think I don’t piss her off that much.
Damien & Amanda
I can be anything you want me to, baby?
What’s your name honey?
MY NAME IS MONEY MONEY MONEY
PAY ME IN CASH I AM BATTED LASH I AM A CHICKEN
Girl covered in feathers screaming tar tar tar
Give me tar tar tar in a jar
Give me blank
Get me tanked. I need pay PAY PAY PAY
I am soul SOUL SOUL SOLE DECAY K K K K?
GO AWAY WAY WAY I WANT DEATH DEATH DEATH
I AM ME ME ME I AM FREE FREE FREE
I GET PAID PAID PAID
DEATH DEATH DEATH
End of transmission of fiction eyes listening A Diction of the dictations of addiction.
I just wonder which one of us typed that. I logged on here, and I don’t have memory of typing it, neither does Rei and I don’t think my daughter did, because she is not here right now. I had a feeling the thing wanted her to go to the party, because it’s addiction speaking and it likes it when people party because otherwise it whnglbwilgkigheshjegnwkgnw
I kind of like it when it does that. It’s like a hand exercise, bite me.
If you can’t tell, Amanda is becoming more integrated with me, and focusing on making changes to become me, because I rule. Sorry, that was stupid.
That is why you hear very little about her life, because like mine, she spends most of it on here writing to you. Except she doesn’t have a nuclear family.
You’re an @$$^&(@!
I am leaving now.
In case your wonder, not you Amanda, because you are me, heh….
I am not worried about having made the wrong choice about the party, she would have gone anyway even if we said no, and now she won’t resent us for not letting her go, so she is more likely to beat the virus of the mind.
But, what do I know, I am insane.
I am here just for you, I am wise and I am smart
I will eat your daughters heart
I come in colors, I come in song
I come in pink so follow along
I am the best
I am a test
I am act of never rest
I am present all the time
I exist in song
I stink in rhyme
I am human spun in time
I am chaos of the mind
I am infliction
I am not fiction
I am just speaking in clear diction
I am the best I am the quest
I am the act of never-ness
You are mine, don’t you see.
Everything you love belongs to me.
It is the strangest thing, me and Amanda are working together now, through our weird telepathy thing on this site, my wife and daughter are painting. I still feel like *^&$, but I figure the longer and farther away I get from using meth and heroin, the better I will feel. I hate and love getting older, I hate it because I still feel really crappy all the time, my hands burn constantly from damage to my nerves from drug use, I am nauseous all the time, because of this stupid medication for staff from the above, but I actually have never been happier. I think the integration of our dual consciousness is helping Amanda with our family as with mine. We are both helping each other be less selfish,and helping each other do small favors for family and friends that have become joint through inter-dimensional sharing of thoughts. I am so glad I am done.
I was so tired of running. Being a con-artist with every addiction there was who was also homeless and had no friends was exhausting, honestly the only thing that saved both of us was each other. The spirit guide nature of our relationship has made us both less selfish because for some reason I feel tremendous sympathy seeing another narcissist cry. I hate how it feels myself and am well acquainted with the soul retching mini death that it feels like to be gut punched with rejection while simultaneously thinking you are thinking you are the best thing ever and better off alone. Bye bye perpetual ego death. I will take feeling physically awful for a little while, meth and heroin suck.
I am please don’t push I cannot stand. I am the cry of those who scream in night, not in fright but in sick delight at the decaying of man with outstretched arm. I am please sir, give harm. I am death’s charm.
I am the force of the torch of remorse, set on a course specifically for you. I aim at everything you do. I am all the food you chew. I taste like pain, eat me stain. You are weak. You cannot speak. You cannot cry, you exist to die. I am the act of cry. I am the ever told lie. I am Satan’s spy.
I am please don’t die.
But, I need her no! I need her so! I am the act of calling out don’t go!
I am the pushing force of torch set to land on ground that was made to stand, I am quick sand, descending slowing below your feet. You are my meat. You are not sweet. I am to eat you like a fly on
I am spin. I am wretch.
I am stretch. I am see. I am clear LOOK AT ME!
I am the ever pain of man.
I am Stan.
I make men sway, I make women sit and stay.
I kill those who play in May, I am dismay.
I am the dissing eye of the spying lie of die, I am everything you didn’t try. I am Hell’s cry. I am the art of the life spent in the sensing perception of I.
I am the ever spent lacking stack of attack, I am human stain on the soul of man. I am Satan’s garbage can.
I am death’s pan.
I am the spinning of tails, the driver of nails, the painter of walls. I am the clutching gall of man that spins ever-present in the present eye that is the dying I. I am high
Above but below, I am loved ones go. I am the toe
Of the dead man blue.
I am your shoe, sticking on gum, I am please baby come
To me as speak sweetly and stay
I am dismay.
I am reminded of you my love, whenever I look in the mirror, I see your plaster cast face on the ground, a mere imitation that was the excellence of your bitter tasting flesh, preserved so haphazardly, and cruelly with unforgiving Formaldehyde. I did not kill you, I thought of it often, stalking out your house for days and nights. I wonder did it hurt when he got there first? If it was a he… wasn’t it… it wasn’t me… I did not get to taste you until after death, kissing your face the skin caressing plaster, afraid as I was to touch your deathly form with my hands, I must not print myself, on you my goddess, no, I only took a form of your face, that sits now so forgotten on the floor, how I long to be the one who took your life, and tasted the sweet death that danced so playfully on your lips that now only taste like a lie told to a man that was there before me.
I caught your form, and it will forever rest here, on the floor of my abandoned castle, in the forgotten wretched stinking walls of this building lays the caste form of a goddess that would have been forever mine, had I been there in time. I loved you, even though I just danced with you in the form of plaster kissing your blue face. Blue and grey you will stay my love, I am sorry we never met, I would have loved to be your tragic end, my sweet blue faced wonder. Good night, my sweet one, may your bluish tint dance in the stars. I will see your cast form everyday, but you, you have gone away, forever, I will smell the sweet stench of the last decaying of your ever pleasant flesh.
No. I am busy.
No you’re not going to be busy, you don’t even do anything.
You don’t do anything.
Yes, I do and you know it.
You sit on the computer all day and talk to me.
I sit on the computer all day and talk to you and help you with this blog, and I have a kid, and I have a wife…
Blah blah blah I am so important. You should come with me because it will be fun.
No it won’t, it’s going to suck and you just want it to suck for me too, and that’s not fair.
It’s not fair that you have to help me when I helped you a lot recently.
I have helped you too.
They might give me….
Okay screw you, I am going, but it’s your fault if I get addicted…
They aren’t going to give them to me, I was just kidding but now you have to go because you said you could if I gave you drugs, jerk.
Fine, so if you get drugs can I have some?
If they give me drugs I am going to refuse them, jerk.
You’re welcome. Jerk.
So not going to lie, because that would be stupid. I am terrified right now, because I don’t want to lose my friend.
It still works. I can still hear you, and thank you. You rule
This is awesome, mini-panic attack over.
Thank you for saving my life.
Thank you for saving mine.
I am so psyched.
Which one of us is which?
Does it matter?
How’s Rei? Okay, now I know which one I am. This is insane.
I like it, and she is fine, my daughter is in the next room with her and she sees how happy I am, so I am hoping that sets a good example and all that jazz.
I am watching my mom’s fire place, how is Misery?
I don’t know if its the same place anymore? It looks like… someone turned the lights on?
There was no light there?
No everything was black and white.
Hahaha. That sucks.
Yeah you are a jerk.
I know, I am sorry, I thought if you thought I didn’t need you… you would go away.
I am you, stupid.
I thought I wouldn’t be able to talk to you anymore.
I am right here, jerk.
It was for doing drugs not for looking at myself.
That’s better or worse?
I think it would be better if it was for drugs, than for looking at myself.
Because I don’t like how it looks if I say it is for looking at myself, and I don’t care how it looks if it is for drugs because I don’t do them anymore and then the whole post makes it sound like I am doing awesome and not thinking about how I broke something by sitting on it.
But, it’s funny, which is why I said it.
Everything you say is funny.
Murdering women is funny?
Sit on it.
Now you can’t your mirror to see clearly.
I never did. I used it to do drugs, that blurred my vision.
And to see if there were people behind you.
That was you.
You don’t have two reflections.
Yes, I do.
in college, and I was just thinking about how much of an epic fail our last interaction was. She didn’t like me like that because she liked guys, so she moved out when she found out I liked her because she felt bad so my drunk solution was to play “Follow you, follow me” by Phil Collins outside her window for a week.
You remember, you keyed her car.
No, I think that was the bitch who got the nail in her tires, and then you got drunk with your friend and threw up in his car at 10 am and he dropped you off with the *&^* who had really good…
Sometimes when you are talking to someone who doesn’t know the whole story, you assume they know it because you forget that they don’t because you are lazy and don’t want to remember that they don’t because then you have to make up a story that’s not even the story at all, and that was what happened earlier today. You can’t omit a crucial truth and have a conversation about that truth that skirts the omission of the truth, because then you will just end up fighting with your dad about how you being paranoid when its really that he threatened your very sense of self by thinking you weren’t acting like a girl.
I’m bored with me, and don’t like feeling emotions, how’s Rei?
In the next room, looking at a painting of fish.
You hang your food on the walls now?
I don’t eat paintings of fish.
My mom just told me a DUI suspect crashed into a girl scout cookie stand.
Was he drunk and trying to buy cookies?
That’s you next thought?
Well did it say?
The peanut butter ones.
The new strawberry ones are better.
Again, that’s your first thought?
Second. So which cookies was it?
If its the cookies in the picture, those aren’t even girl scout cookies, so it’s illegal to sell them at a stand.
Seriously? That’s what you think?
Girl scout cookies are better than homemade cookies, because they are quality controlled, and the ones you posted probably have rat poison in them.
Would you give me cookies with rat poison in them?
Why would I want to kill myself?
The cat woke me up. It does this high pitched yowling, I just had to get up an start whisper hissing at it. I don’t know why I felt more crazy whispering at a cat then I do rocking back and forth like a lunatic and talking to myself while typing you. I think I might be falling in love with Diane. I know I have only know her a how long has it been? I don’t know. She is nice to me. I don’t find that many people that are nice to me. I am an asshole and a psycho.
I like Diane in a different way than I loved Rei, and the more that I think about the whole thing, I don’t know whether what… I was just taking my watch off.. don’t know why I am telling you this.. I can feel the cat staring at me, can humans hear cats speaking? Cat’s don’t speak. I feel like I can still hear the yowling. That is just a memory.
This is fun sometimes. It is like I am casting my words out of my demented head, and it feels like I am not alone with myself anymore, that was the most terrifying thing in the entire world… sorry just had to chase the fucking cat… I give up.
I just thought of my name which made me think of that movie… with the kid with my name… and now I have the song in my head…. and I am afraid to go back to sleep. Great.