Something Old....

A re-post of a work posted on DeviantArt

Sometimes I have the feeling of burning, even though I am so cold my teeth clash together in a cacophany of frozen sound. The epiphany, the amazing thought that I arrive at is that the feeling of burning is wrought by the feeling that I am melting into the fabric of the universe, silently and unamazingly, no bang to resound as I begin my descent.
I see myself being that which I wish not to be but am powerless to stop it. I can not wring out of myself that which I desire. Perhaps the power within myself I have sought so long does not exist, never existed in me. But how does one ever know that. when all around you tell you that only the weak give up reaching for the power that exists within them. When does one know when they have reached the limitations of that power, when continuing to try proves fruitless? How does one discern this from apathy?
This is a question for the ages surely. As mysterious and as unanswerable as the question of God and just as hollow, if not more so. Do all people ponder these things in the dark hours before sleep takes hold of their minds? Perhaps they do and forget it in the morning. Not I. These things do not only exist in my brain but they take hold of it tightly and refuse to let go until my head is screaming with questions it cannot answer.
Do you ever get the feeling someone is watching you? Feel a non-existant breath on your shoulder or see the flicker of human form in that ever decietful corner of your eye? I do. Sometimes. And the shivers come unaided uninhibited. Their icy fingers like a persons breath on a cold day crawl up my spine. They try to take purchase in my very flesh, their icy claws like glass, but under my thin skin my black coal heart is inpervius to them, but for how much longer?
Can one forever hold off whatever is trying to attack them? Wether it be madness or else? Or will I become like the forgotten Kings in castle sieges? Holled up in my castle watching all around me die and fall away, all hope for an end without torture and death lost?
If I find answers to these questions, what then? Will there be more or will I live forever having nothing left to answer? Would I be serene? Scared? Or perhaps so bored as to take my own life for the knowing of all life's answers must surely be not only a lonely place but also a place of no comfort, for thats what lies and theories are meant for.
Perhaps we are only inhibited in finding answers by our own fear. People often do not understand that fear is often what makes one take their own life. Not the usual fear of death and the unknown but fear of life, of living forever the way they are. Fear of the known, and that fear is so much more powerful. It sucks you down like a vortex into a pit where rational thought becomes fantasy and where death seems the only door. The key can be any number of things, but get it wrong and the consequences can be dire. That is a thought which scares some back into rationality.
Others are not so unfortunate.
If we could see the minds of others, really see them in all their fullness and complexity oh how the mentally ill would benefit. To be able to see what a cured life, what a charmed life can feel like. Living that life scares me more than anything else.Will I still feel with the intensity with which I do now? I do not wish to feel the lows so intensly but will my highs be dulled too? I could not live that life. I think I would kill myself from the sheer mundane bore of that.
It is a hard thing when you know that you don't want the cure but you hate the way things are, that constant state of limbo is the worst part of depression. At least when you are suicidal you can see an end to that, almost taste it.
Alas, alack rationality comes back. Or else some other reason to stop ones self and so now I am back at this self inflicted state of limbo. All because of black thoughts. Pain, fear, uncertainty, to much certainty.
The chain, the cycle is again repeated, the bonds that hold it together grow stronger and harder to break. No mere medication can save me now. Some kind of intense treatment is needed. Perhaps if they noticed in grade 5 or 6 or earlier, at the tiny signs that showed up during my pre-pubescence I could have been saved. Perhaps if I'd had the power then to ask for help I could have saved myself but then we get back to my original question. Do I hold that power? Did I ever hold that power? The power with which one saves ones self. The power one needs to survive their own mind. Do I have this? Do I own it? Did I ever?

An introduction to a book I never wrote...

Too much these days is made of worshipping yourself first. Popularity of sayings such as “Your body is your temple” and “Look out for number one” has meant that society is now a bunch of people looking only to help themselves and never anyone else if it is at their expense. Whilst I do not seek to espouse that we should help our fellow man at our own expense it does delve deeper into the self. Why do we worship ourselves above all others? What do we hope to achieve by amassing knowledge of self help techniques? Why do we seek to create a life for ourselves rather than destroy it? Part of this no doubt is the chemical structure of the brain, and I am sure I will be written off by some as a talentless, depressive no hoper, but this is just another path to self destruction, sweet glorious destruction. I only to show those that think like I do that self destruction can lead to inner peace, that putting yourself last is sometimes the way to become whole and that normal people can become the nothing of the universe.
I do not seek to have people kill themselves, maim themselves or to follow any part of what I say, but there has to be something said for the other side, for how the other side lives, for the destructors, the depressives and the totalitarian anarchists. Put yourself last and discover the world of the trodden down, the beauty in pain and abuse. Put yourself last and become the monster you feared. It isn’t that hard, but here are some tips to help you start. Here is my beautiful downfall, enjoy.

Shakespearian Hatred

You are an unneeded letter, relegated to the forgotten ends of the alphabet.
You’re unchaste nature made a meal of you and it shows through in the sallow skin of your face.
You speak vilely spitting your vitriol like so much bilious mess
And lo, your capricious hatred bursts forth in at any moment; showing it knows no bounds.

To those quieted and civil in nature your character, both rude and abrupt, disrupts them deeply; but you care not for their peace.
Nor do you care for the quiet, diligent and gentle way they go about tending to the pastures of their lives.
You dance through the fields trampling their hard work into dust and feeling you have made an impact and then;
When all is done you trounce your way out through the undergrowth.
Stomping like so much of a child and leaving footprints in your wake.
Truly it is that you have never grown.
Truly it is that you, unneeded, unchaste, bilious, capricious beast;
Are all spleen, and nothing of a man.

Contemplate this...

I had contrived this idea that I needed no one in a romantic sense. I thought my loneliness was simply that, being that I was alone. I thought adding this man into my house and as a constant figure in my life would help remedy that. But as nice as he is, as wonderful as the pleasure of his company can be, it makes me stress harder, and the truth is I am still alone.
I still sleep at night by myself wishing I wasn't, and still think back to the days and nights when I would lay by Steve, where I was, filled with bliss. Bliss because I was in love, so thoroughly, so completely, I never allowed myself to contemplate it's end because it seemed to painful to even consider, but now?
Now I live it and I was right, too painful to even think about.

The Worship of a King of Hell

You appeared as one but two€
Angels on a chariot of fire;
And you spread your lies and deceit
As far into me as as my awe made possible.

Your adulterous ways were hidden
Behind a veil of beauty
But such evil and wretchedness
Cannot hide forever.

You are a King of my Hell.
You are a destroyer of the soul.
He, who does so present himself as an angel
In a deceit, to steal from me my very essence;
As if in some kind of joke!

Once touched by you, once marked;
No amount of repentance;
No amount of remorse,
No worship at the alter of the self could remove it.

For I have knelt before thine evil,
And my lips are stained with the kiss of you.

Belial

Fuck you, I love you

Here is a stupid song I wrote!

I wish I could forget you
I wish I’d dream of your face
I wish I could be stronger
Because I’m all over the place

I wish you never existed
I wish that you would call
I wish that you would just fuck off
Because I don’t hate you at all

Fuck you, I love you
Fuck you, I care
Fuck you, I love you
Fuck you, I love you
Fuck you aren’t there!

I wish I could hit you
I wish we could kiss
I wish I could slap you
Because you make me like this
Fuck you, I love you
Fuck you, I love you
Fuck you, I care
Fuck you, I love you
Fuck you, I love you
Fuck you aren’t there!

I wish you would just leave
I wish you would stay
I wish you would fuck off
Please don’t go away

It's all pretence darling

If I pretend to love you
Will you pretend to care?
If I pretend to need you
Will you pretend you’re there?

If I pretend I dream of you
Will you pretend to smile?
If I pretend I cry for you
Will you pretend and hold me for a while?

If I pretend to cum for you
Will you pretend to fuck?
If I forget I’m supposed to pretend
Will you pretend I’m out of bad luck?

Wild Fire

Puzzle pieces fit together not
So well as you and I.
Through all the years and sands of time
You still have held my eye.

You still have held my interest,
And still have held my heart
And still have kept my thoughts with you
When oft times we’re forced apart

Oh I have always cherished you
For what‘s inside your soul
You are the other part of me
My heart flames burning coal

You have started wildfire in me
As I know only you can
I will love you and I will burn
Until we meet again.

Vital Organs

HE said make me a meal of your insides
Give me your organs, pull yourself apart.
I said darling I could try, so hard
But you could never have my heart.

My heart is an impenetrable fortress
My lungs are hurt and burnt from tears and smoke
Inhaling salt water makes them useless
And my heart is tough from scars where it had broke.

HE said well can I have your liver with Chiante?
I said darling cooking it would be a trial
For I've abused that thing alcohol for years
And my hatred has filled it full of bile.

He said then let me crack your skull and have your brain
Let me me see inside that pretty head
I said take it if you don't care that it's insane
Take it if you don't care that it's dead.

Fears

Yesterday I was thinking about fears and what I fear most. I love that question but always find it hard to answer and so I pondered...
Death? No.
Being hated? No.
Being alone? No.
Being loved? No.
Being hurt? No.
I had faced all that with strength and dignity and fell and got up and broke down and rebuilt.

Being hated and loved struck a kind of chord though and that's when I realized, I'm not afraid of being loved or hated but being neither. I am afraid of being treated with indifference. I want to be relevant. I want people to have strong feelings about me one way or the other even if it's hate or love. I felt relieved to find an answer...

Of Death and Dying

Tomorrow is the funeral of a guy I knew. My friends fiancee'. He was a nice guy and young and he didn't deserve to die.
Every year I bury someone I know that was too young to die. Every year the pain comes back.

Every year I listen to songs like last kiss, heaven is so far away and kill all your friends and I cry and I remember all the people I lost.

It started when I was little. When I was 4 one of my cousins died of SIDS and in my scrapbook from kindy is a painting I did. It's blurry crap, like kids do but I got the teacher to write on it and it says:
"This is where they buried my cousin Michelle. I miss her. She died. She was only a baby. Everyone is sad."

So here is to you all, all the ones I remember and all the ones I was too young to remember:
Michael - who deserved to be a daddy for a lot longer
Uncle Dennis - who left a hole in the laughter
Poppy Harry and Pat - I barely knew you but what I remembered lives on in my heart
Sean -who's smile made me want to come to school instead of hang myself
Pam - who fostered my love for reading
Graham - who could fix anything but himself
Rhonda - the first adult to ever treat me like one
Mark - my first ever crush even if he was 15 yeas older than me and loved my sister
And Michelle - She was only a baby. Everyone is sad.

I hope your journey through Summerland and into the next life is a peaceful one. You still live here in my memories.

True story

Once I knew a man who joined the army to be a hero. I told him that no matter what he would always be my hero.

He told his friends that someone at home had said that.

He showed them a picture of another more pretty girl....

Ranting

Last night I had a dream of pulling out my teeth in pieces. I sat there in my teeth and ruined a smile I rarely use. Last night I had a dream that the woman was a witch and all the herbs in her garden finally made sense. Last night I had a dream of you and all the wanting in the world could not make that true.

Sometimes I wonder why my dreams are more fulfilling than my real life, and I wish that you could see inside my head. For then my dear you'd see there is some activity there. Then you might understand that though the outside is still the inside isn't dead.

And I can't tag for shit, and I can't remember the days, I can't pretend to care when I should, I can't see the forest for the waves.

Humans are the greatest natural disaster that ever happens to the world or ourselves.

I never commemorate moments in time with photographs, my memory finds nicer pictures to replace them with.

Beguiling

Honey, I can see you smiling;
Darling, can’t you tell I’m lying?
Sweetheart you’ll have to do some dying.
Baby, do you find beguiling?

Sad simple little man
I can have attention with a wave of my hand
I just have to look your way
And you’ll do absolutely anything I say

You melt into my charms
You’d do anything to hold me in your arms
My eyes smoulder and my lips pout
In the clothes you’d do anything to get me out.

The Parachute

The earth moved and pushed a precipice up towards the heavens
and for a moment I thought I was blessed. I was wrong.
Anyone on a precipice will find it is precarious I fell.
Down through the air, a feather made of lead.
Fast I fell but could not land. I was bewildered.
And all the while your Cheshire smile sung of my descent.

Down I fell through levels and layers of broken glass.
Down I fell through rains of tears I’d cried months ago.
Down I fell through my own memories I passed.
Boughs and tree limbs stuck out to whip me but none that I could grasp.

Smoke rose and covered me choking me and hurting my eyes. In it went and devoured my insides slowly blackening everything it touched, making my internal function useless. I could not speak.
Something jerked my shoulders violently, jerking my body upright, it hurt more than anything thus far that I had felt. A buoyancy to slow my descent but nothing that I wanted. A parachute.

Silken threads of hope I do not trust to hold me
Silken threads of hope I’m sure will break
Silken threads of a hope that only you and I see
They are straining and slowing my descent I want to cut them lose and set myself free

This parachute was opened far too low, I know the ground I’ll crash into. I see it and relish in its impact but I cannot have it yet. It embarrasses me that people watching me saw me so high for so little time and that they see my rapid descent. More it embarrasses me that they see me flailing above waiting for the plunge. There is more decency and dignity in crashing than there is in this.

I want it over and done so I can start to heal but now all I have is this tearing ripping descent on winds not of my own making and this is the hardest pill for me to swallow. It tears at me like salt swallowed all in one gulp, it poisons me from the inside out. But I smile up to you to reassure you. It’s ok, darling it is fine. Darling I love you and I’m here if you are mine.

1 day

In the past 24 hours I have dumped a bf, had sex with a relative stranger, grew infatuations for 2 men, helped a friend feel less depressed and argued my stupidity even though I know I am. And not necessarily in that order.