Quotes

"An unhappiness that clung to her the way a bad dream clings to a rumpled pillowcase."

February 2nd of 20??

Infant wounds healed by the Mother. A lover taught to clutch me at her bosom. Take these scars with your love. Hate those who reaped my soul, Burn the cities. Create a new world for me to discover with childlike eyes. Wander and explore with me. Lead on to adventure. Help me take back what is mine.

6/09

Lacerate me.
Open Me up for the World to taste.
Let the night air quench its Thirst
Hold my head close
Tell me it's soon
Tell me you will go on
Tell me you love me

Its Hot

I don't feel well. I have a weight on my chest and back today. My brow is heavy with the longing of answers. I can feel falsehoods concocted. I can feel the lies seeping through the cracks. Today is a day of deceit. Today my paranoia burns me, the flaking skin, the smell of burnt hair and charred flesh. The smooth scars. I can feel the thickness under the fingertips. 3rd degree no doubt. They go deep, almost to the bone. Nerves miss fire. Its becoming hard to feel.

Sit with me.

I have always wanted those that I felt special,to join me in the alienation we have been forced into by ourselves or the ones we sought to be. Instead I have become alienated from those I wish to be a part of. By my own actions or theirs I feel like the old dog begging for scraps. I give myself to them willingly only to be cut from throat to groin and left for the buzzards. I have scars from the stitches. I often pick myself back up. I wander the desert in search of the caravan , the oasis, the humble abode for me to rest and seek camaraderie. I have forgotten again, like an Alzheimer's patient. Solitude has always been my one true ally.

?

I wrestle with my mind often. Thoughts of disease, broken bodies, tormented smiles, lonely conversations. I welcome others into it. A dying machine waiting for the last of its pistons to seize. A cargo hold filled with the dead, hauling bodies to the oblivion of the stars. The heavens speak. They speak clearly and they call for us all to return to the dust. I welcome this.

My four friends.

Surely I jest. Alone in the room speaking to myself. I hear the echo. I can feel my reflection. The windows are covered with plywood. Recycled air and moldy bread. The water tastes old. Rust, or is that the taste of blood in my mouth. My muscles are tight, the walls are falling apart. My knuckles are bear and broken. Dried blood runs on my hands and forearms. I set the pace for my self destruction. My body, the hammer, this room, the anvil, my mind, the steel. I will spend a lifetime to forge a weapon. I will spend a lifetime alone.