Twelve Pages

 I am feeling strange lately, the sickness in my bones seems to be thickening, the voices whispering right besides my ear keep growing louder. I hear the ticks and tocks of an old clock, it keeps me awake at night, there is no such thing in my room, there is nothing in my room, besides white walls.

I am scared, in this closed room, no escape is available to me, they can come in and go whenever they please, but my fingers became free of my nails as I scratched the door for them to let me go, why do they lock me, why they keep entering and invading and taking like it is something natural? I hate I hate I hate, but why can’t I stop them? of course I can’t stop them, I can’t move my arms, they are bound, bloody nails must be the reason, when I dug the eye out of that researcher they locked me with him.


They stopped bringing me food, the corpse stank, they told me until I shouldn’t waste food, I remember the way his stomach burst open, the bloody puddle of gastric acid and his inwards.


the rattling, the rattling, how my bones rattle, I shiver from the cold, but I wonder if it is winter, I her the rattling, I wonder if it is even I that rattles, maybe the whole world is shaking and I am the only static being.


I am hungry, I am tired, they keep me awake, doing test, they test so many useless things. what does it matter the strength of my jaw if it isn’t strong enough to gnaw this walls away? it is so stupid, stupid stupid stupid, why bother, why keep doing such shameful useless, wrong wrong wrong, something so useless as this, I want to sleep in a bed once again.


I miss my mom.


I wonder when did the sky turned black forever. I remember seeing it as other color, it used to be this bright yellow, that came whenever the city on the train passed by us, it was so beautiful it was so startling beautiful that now, all my dreams have yellow, and trains, sometimes I dream that I am being run over by it, I always cry after waking up when I realize it was just a dream.


I wonder, I wonder, I wonder, there was once a shade of red in the sky if memory doesn’t fail me, but do I even have memory, sometimes I feels so hollowed out, I wonder if they scoop my brain when they come in drones, I am never not asleep when they enter, so I have no idea, I wonder if I have brain enough to remember things right, but the red of the sky is so vivid in my head that I doubt everything but the legitimacy of that, the sky did become red once, and it became permanent in my memory because it was one of the few changes I ever saw since coming here.


I like the dark sky, it is mostly dark all around, I wonder why there is so much darkness out there, maybe the sins of men became to heavy to float to heaven, so they just hang out in here. I wish I could have seen a star, but they told me there is none left in our galaxy, that is just to bad, I wonder if you can eat than.


It digs, deep in my skin, squirming, it entrails my entrails, the coiling body, the squirming wiggly worms, behind my eyes, beneath my skin, I retch with the filthy growing in my body, I puke worms upon worms, and it isn’t enough, it is never enough, they crawl, they eat, I wish they could eat me faster than I can heal, I wish I could chew them al and kill them until they died, I wish I had fire, I wonder if I would burn to a crisp if I decided to sleep in one of those, but sincerely, I wish I could see a bonfire before dying, I never knew anything but the cold.


I have eaten those worms that I puked, when they stopped moving, they weren’t so bad, I think, I was hungry, beggars can’t be choosers, and I knew that I was a beggar, otherwise they wouldn’t be able the way that they do. I wish I could puke magma, but it would be burning me on the inside, It would be so warm, I wish I could see red again, not from blood, I hate bleeding, I don’t like when it gets out of my body, it hurts so much. maybe red meat, whenever it gets to me it is already brown and oozing, the maggots are so crunchy.


I can hear the song, I love it when the song starts playing, when I am finally able to break away from the constant screaming in my head. it just starts playing, and I am the only one who can hear it. All of them have to be bored watching me having a good time, I wonder what is ethics, moral, philosophy.


The man studies so he can find answers, I wonder what kind of questions they have for the treatment that they give me.


I am only an stage before the end product, I wonder what is going to happen to me once it is finished, I remember strolling around the facility, they held me in chains and the wheel of my carrier kept jamming, whenever the cage screeched, the face of the scientists seemed to became a shade whiter each time.


I saw others, like me, but also not at all? white fur, I wonder if it makes me a mouse, I am but a lowly test subject, am I a child? was I child once before? the chords are struck and the vains all bleed red, but I can’t seem to remember anything about my life before the grey walls closed in, the only thing I remember is… mother, she cried, she cried when she saw what I become, but I wonder.


when did I ever meet my mother? the streets were just as cold as the facility, but her embrace was so warm, I wish I could stop shivering.


I tried biting my tongue, multiples times, I can’t seem to get it right, I know if I stop breathing I would die, but it is so hard to drown on your own blood, I keep drinking it down instead of breathing, I don’t have much of a tongue left, what is in my mouth feels more like a tattered piece of clothing, I wonder, I seem to wonder too much, maybe I should stop wondering, there is no wonders left in this world to me.


I see smoke in the distance, the windows are too high, but I can jump to their heights. I wonder what is that coming from the horizon, it could be a storm, it could be salvation, I wonder if it could even be worse than my current situation. I wonder if I should care, they seem to care particularly about it, seeing how they can’t stop crying whenever they look at the horizon, I wonder about them, I wish I could care for the people that I knew my whole life, the only people in my only life, but I truly preferred that they all went away anyway, so I doubt I could feel anything but peace at the sight of their despair.

I am at peace right now, and I stopped wondering, change is coming, and I am going to sleep

Madness is not something that I am used to dealing in my day to day life, but I have seen my fair share of it, my family was never known to be quite right in the head. No, they never truly were, I wonder if deep down I am not quite right either, but right now, I need to tell you the story of my teacher, who also was my aunt from the side of my mother, that probably doesn’t say very much to you, but the heads up, everybody from her side of the family is who we will be discussing it, my father is so not of notice that who couldn’t bear to tag along with us, I resent him, but it is not like I don’t understand it.


My aunt, who we were talking about before that brief tangent, just thinking back to when she was alive, it fills me with mixed feelings, she was such an warped woman, and I thought she was the only normal one, I learned who she truly was after she died of cancer, what she hid in her closet.


Me, my sister and her daughter were cleaning her place, seeing what would be kept, what would be sold and what would be thrown into the garbage, that aunt of mine had quite the hoarder tendencies.


well, we were doing what we came to do, her daughter didn’t know if she wanted to sell the place or if she wanted to rent, I wonder if hurt her to be there, I think it might have hurt harder to see your loved one waste away in a hospital bed, did she felt relief after the death of her mother? I know now that she had deep resentment for the woman, and the woman had few love to give to her own daughter, learning who she truly was outside of a classroom was a shock, knowing that she was a deep paranoid woman who lived in fear at everything outside of her house, but also was able to be so bitter and spew vitriol to a passerby in the street for the smallest of slight.


But that is not the madness I am talking about, no, her personality having this kind of duality is just one of the facets that she showed to the world, every living being has their flaws, and I loved her, so I had colored glasses when looking at her, even after learning how she bared herself in life.


I was cleaning the kitchen, seeing the dirty dishes growing mold in the sink, she had lived weeks in a hospital room after her condition worsened, I don’t know why the sight of dirty dishes made my heart wrench so painfully in my chest when not even her white face in the casket or her skin cold to touch didn’t elicit anything out of me. I wonder if it is that just now that it started to sink in, cleaning the house of a person that would never come back, she would never come back.


She was gone. Not that it appeared on my face any of this petty inner turmoil, I just felt tired, so tired that I didn’t even attempt to clean her porcelain plates or kitty mugs, I knew it was something passed down to her from grandma, I would be scolded for not caring about her memories, but the crash of each piece after shattering inside the trash bag laid on the floor set my heart slightly at ease, I wonder if the answer to that feeling was to destroy anything that she had left, until nothing could remember me that she ever existed? it sounds dumb. It was too much work too, so I just kept going through the kitchen, seeing all the expired food on the fridge and cupboards, seeing the mold “garden” really made me sigh, it was just so much work, and there was no reward for it either, just that gnawing feeling on my chest growing wider, hollowing it out. I sighed at the same time I heard the loud scream of my sister coming from aunt’s bedroom.

I didn’t run to see what happened, it was the middle of the day, it probably was just a bug, maybe a rat, I remember hearing the scuttling and sound of scratching coming from her walls whenever I came to visit her. But the smell of rot hit me as soon as I opened the door. The scream didn’t stop in the slightest, I wondered about my sister’s lungs, they were very good, I hope she never starts to smoke, it would be such a waste to end like our aunt.


and there was this naked mole rat dude, but he was no longer breathing, by the state of his decomposition, it seems it has been fermenting for a long while now, I sure hope my cousin didn’t mind throwing all those clothes away, I doubt she could ever make them clean again after all that acid stuff and bodily fluids that got into it, yeah. that was really disgusting.


Then it dawned on my, the sounds of scuttling, the scratching on the walls and sound of chains, even the wails deep into the night that I thought for sure where just ghosts from where our ancestral have desecrated the tombs to build houses on top of it, but no, n, I was sorely mistaken, this poor guy, here at her closet, he has been the source of all the disturbance all this years ago.


I don’t even know what to do with him, I really don’t, should we call the police, wouldn’t they take the home into investigation? and how would that reflect on us, as the family of the woman who did such a thing, for all that they knew, we might all be accomplices into his kidnapping, and to see such a thing, how his body was so thin, almost straining against the bones, he starved to death, such an horrible way to go, to die, I really feel angry, so angry at myself for not having realized that a human being, a literal human of being was suffering all this time in the clutches of my evil aunt.


I will avenge him, there is no way that I can ignore the plight of those who justice had failed, I took the decision to look all over my aunt cabinet and thing and stuffs, trying to figure it out for what reason did she do such a thing, such a horrible and disgusting thing, so reprehensible in all sorts of manner.but I found nothing, not an iota of a clue, besides this white board that she had, with pictures of what looked to be the guy at work, it really was disconcerting how many photographs she had.


I am running on second wind right now, I don’t know how to express this feeling of hopelessness, of despair, of wanting something so much that it hurts, I read her diary, I knew she was obsessed, she wanted this guy all locked up so she could make him pay, and make him pay she did, those unspeakable things he did to his victim, she did to him.


and this story that you thought was going somewhere deep when I told you about the sickness of my family, but the truth is, I am probably the sickest of them all, I can barely remember the facts straight or come with a way to convey them more properly than a written format. but well, I really don’t want anybody discovering any of this things, so, if I am showing this here to you, is because you are the only one that I can truly trust in the whole world, or maybe you are just the next victim that I locked into my basement, I want free therapy, so I am sorry for all the male hookers forced to die for the sake of my art, I truly am the worst.

My love is just as rotten as moldy take out, I am as mushy as the fruit left by the window that you forgot. I have vines with thorns wrapping my limbs, rooted on the ground as your arms pin me to the wall. Why must it be you to have taken hold of my heart? a monkey from the zoo, those mean living in the alley beside my house and a wet tissue paper, you know what they all have in common? they all are better choices for me to fall in love with, compared with a scum such as yourself.


The fact that our paths have crossed at all is proof that God is dead, for no benevolent father would lay such a cruel punishment on his dear child. But one day you appeared on my house, you broke into from the fire escape, the sweat running from your brown, the sound of police sirens, you carried a paper bag filled with cash, by your mortified gaze at the window, I knew you were in deep shit, and since you invaded my home, it extended to me as well…


how romantic our beginning was, I can just sigh as the memories come back, since that was all that you left me.

…

I woke up with a ruckus in my house, it was the sound of glass breaking and somebody stumbling their way in the living room. It got me right out of bed, I knew I didn’t live in a very respectable neighborhood, so I took the baseball bat besides the night stand. Today might be a night of violence, but I am not going without a fight.


The shoots have bloomed beautifully in my little garden, I don't remember when did I ever got interested into plants, but I had an indoors garden, sadly, all my hard work turned into waste as ruffian tumbled all those poor saplings on the floor, the burglar stepped all over them, an he laid on the ground beside the kitchen table, I didn’t know if he was under the influence or not, but I had no Idea about what to do, I was gripping tightly that bat, adrenaline was telling me to bash the head of that unconscious man to a pulp. but as 21 century man, I knew better.


I grabbed the flex tape on the kitchen cabinet, I eyed the sack of money that he gripped tightly against his chest, I was late on rent, I have been eating nothing but instant noodles and eggs, and my car needed once again to be repaired. like, if I was I better person, I would already have called the cops, but maybe god send this drug addicted that might have robbed a bank to solve all my problems for me, I knew it was naive to think that, but what could I say, I am the kind of person to see the glass half full.

\----

I woke up with a flicking light above my head, I saw dirty tiles and a bloody knife over the counter, my heart started racing in my chest, the last thing I remember was running for my life, the cops where just behind me, thank god I have no family, otherwise boss would’ve already slip their throats, I don’t know if I am on the safe or not, but if my stunt paid off, they would be all behind bars and I would be a very very rich man, if only I am able to escape.


Now that I think about it, I am pretty sure boss slipped something in my drink, bu I double crossed him before he could act whatever scheme he cooked up, when the feds stormed the secret room, I was already bolting, upstairs obviously, I knew how to jump buildings like none other, that was why I was able to maintain my courier with at least nine intact fingers.


But them, whatever that was in my organism just started kicking in. You know, the perks of being a big guy is that it take longer to state altering substance to affect me, I could really hold my glass, but after almost stumbling head first into my death, I decided to be smart about it, I just need to hide until morning, the cops would be to busy dealing with the gang to come for me, I was aiming to the trash dispenser below some fire stairs, but before I noticed, I simply lost control of my body, balance, everything, then when I realized, I was falling through a window on the fourth floor and into somebodies apartment.


I tried to lift myself, but could only drag myself on the floor a little before I lost consciousness. and now, looking at the flickering light, the bloody knife, the sickening smell in the air, I was bound and gagged… really, of all places, I had to bust through Jeffrey Dahmer’s window?????


I really felt like crying. but from the shadows, came crawling this horrible, monstrous… underfed teenager?

- I am going to ask you questions, I don’t want you screaming and waking the whole neighborhood, nod for yes and shake your head for no, I want truthful answers, I will know if you lie.

Is that what the education system did to teenagers nowadays? are they now all crime lords waiting to pounce on any prey they could get their hands on?

- Okay big guy, I want to know, this bag of money you were carrying, did you stole it?

Well I wonder how to answer, does it count if it was from someone who had been apprehended? is not like they could take it with them to the jail, so truly, I was keeping all our hard earned money from being stolen from us by a corrupt system, we made it through hours of back breaking loan shark labors, punching middle aged man who lost track of their lives was hard when you did it more than once every day of the week.

So I shook my head.

- Bullshit. he said before kicking me hard in the shin - You think I was born yesterday? beside the cops, will be any other group that could be after this?


he was holding my bag close to his chest, MY BAG OF MONEY, YOU LITTLE PSYCHOPATH THIEF, YOU MENACE TO SOCIETY, but I could not express my true feelings, so damn frustrating, not that I would say anything if my mouth was free anyway, I kept stealing glances at that bloody knife over the sink, I strained against my restraints, But it wasn’t budging either.


I could only shake my head, like, if those were able to get free, them sure, I was fucked, but I a pretty sure it is harder to bribe a whole force of them when you had a meth lab installed in your basement, worse of all when you got caught with the stuff in said basement. ha… I really hope the America’s justice system don’t fail me now, but I had a cold shiver running down my back, I had to run, the further the better, if I could only put one or two border between them and me, I heard that Brazil is lovely this time of the year.


I thought he would kick me again, but maybe the teenager found something he wanted in my expression, I really just wanted to get away, and really what is up with that fucking bloody knife. seriously? he followed my gaze to the sink,, and his expression changed to… embarrassment? -Sorry for the mess, it is not like I was expecting visitors. at that he cast a sharp gaze at me. Mom, I don’t think I am going to live to see the sunrise.

The bloody knife and funk smell come from the fact he had liver for dinner, really is very nutritious, and best of all, it cost less than two dollars, that it was what he had left, truly, in this economy, it is so damn hard to keep yourself alive, it was a miracle not having to dumpster dive for food

I am looking for something, I am still not sure what that is, but my feet take me from dark alleys to empty streets, the cold wind makes me shiver down to my bones. But I can’t stop walking, it doesn’t seem to be going to happen. I have a weak flashlight, it shines a pale yellow light in front of me, I don’t know if darkness would be better, the shadows seem to grown larger with a source of light, and like the rotting fingers of a giant hand, everything seems to be getting closer to trap me.


But it is not true, t really isn’t, I know there is nobody in this town, a single soul wouldn’t be able to survive so deep into the mountains when the source of water is miles away. I hate the desert, even on this ghost town, the influence of sand seems to be swallowing the thing whole, there is more sand than pavement in every direction that I look, the grains peeled away the paint, the sun dried everything out, like a husk, it is mummified every edifice. I find hard to breath, with each draw breath, it seems my lungs are getting filled with shards of glass, and even though I cough clumped lumps of grains, it doesn’t escape me the sight of blood leaking from my own lips.


I am so tired, I feel so weak, there is no moon, on this sky, but there is also no storm clouds, so I can’t understand the reason as of to why the darkness is so all consuming. but I go on, looking for something that my heart feels it is dearer than my own life, I wouldn’t say I traveled miles to get to where I am, but the moment I woke in a bank with no memories as of to how I got here, I didn’t panic, my body moved with a supernatural purpose that my mind could not understand, there was something I had to find, I couldn’t even stop to drawn a breath pure of sand, I just go onward until my lungs felt heavier than my pockets, and my legs so tired, it felt as if the hamstrings where on the open for every one to touch, to feel. I could barely feel my legs.


I don’t know where I am, I could barely register anymore, I just decided to close my eyes, it is not like my body needed my directions, it wouldn’t obey me otherwise, but I felt a pulse in the wind, it is something thrumming, it feels like a heartbeat, I hear it deep down in the earth. when my eyes opened, I was inside a cathedral, ravaged by time, the sand invaded even the temple believed to be sacred, the windows where broken, but that didn’t seem to be times doing, the corpses on the benches told another story.


the bone black, charred by something searing hot, I wonder if a war happened in this place, wherever it might be, I could only see charred bodies all along the far from pristine church, I don’t know what my purpose was, but the closer I got to the altar, where a robed corpse had still extended arms, he hung tall, not limp on the floor like every other dead body, the answer was obvious, if the metallic glint reflected by the light from the flashlight wasn’t enough, the wooden arms extending from the earth would give me a clearer picture.


It was barbed wire, the thing that hanged the priest on the wooden beams, it clung painfully to the rotten skin, it had dried splotches of blood all over his face and arms, but the robes where pristine white, as if someone came before him just to change the filthy drapes, it was beyond logical, worse of that such barbarities occurred in such a sacred place, but that was the trailing of my thoughts, I was barely able to keep focus at anything but that horrible loud thrumming, banging on my ears, banging on my skull, hammering my brains, I felt wet coming from my ears, it came hot, I felt it coming from my nose and mouth too, but even if I tried looking down, my face faced the altar as I got closer and closer.

My body was not my own, that was clear alone, I don’t know what was controlling me, but I knew that whatever did this to the priest, It shouldn’t be around anymore, after all this time, after all this destruction, right? my situation was far from normal, I had no hope of safety of my body, as my legs kept me going forward, I reached the altar. I pushed the priest with a slight shove, and the bound corpse came tumbling down, lifting a puff of smoke and sand.


I took his place, overlooking all the refugees, because that was what they are, the citizens of a nation torn by war, looking for respite, for safety in their faith, the bombs, I wonder if it was even bombs, I doubt it, the church felt so fragile, it didn’t seem like it was sturdy even in its better years, so I felt doubtful to what could have immolated them.


I was feeling unbearably tired, at the same time magma came pouring from my veins, it was such a shock the sudden unbearable pain, I couldn’t even react, but I doubt I would be able anyway, my body made no grunt, no reaction, I was petrified, I was at the mercy of something greater the myself, I knew now, I knew for sure that the impurities where being burned away, and something… divine was feeling me.


I felt the warm liquid come flowing from my eyes, I knew that my nose and ears were bleeding, but maybe it was tears that sprout from this deep sense… exhilaration, I was looking for something, all this time, even before I found this abandoned cathedral, even before I came to this husk of a town, forgotten by time itself, when I was only a lowly desk job worker in a no paying, no future job, my soul was crushed since before I started my journey, was I set up to fail? I wonder, I knew I shot myself in the foot at times, the regrets I had collected during all my life, I felt them all burning away, as I realized that after all this time I was born for this, that was the greatness I wanted all along, as the divine flooded my veins, I couldn’t help but sing.


My lips where mine once again, my arms raised for the gospel of divine, I felt so comfortable in his light, I felt like nothing would ever hurt me anymore, the loneliness, the sense of loss, it was all gone, realising that it was all gone just made me more and more ecstatic, as my voice started to raise, I knew these chords would do no justice to his voice, he whispered the truths I yearned to learn in my ears, I know them to be truth, he could only say as such, the song came even them it was no perfect, perfection was not something this body was made to accomplish, but even them, I tried, I tried so hard for him, and the crescendo of my song, I doubted it could reach all of them, charred by the fire, the divine fire, as I found myself being purified at the moment, I wonder if I am going to be able to be forged in a purer self, or if my charred remains will end like the rest of my brothers and sisters, but it matters not. for just having the chance of being touched by his flames, is enough to feel it was worth the life I had.


I resented my existence, until I did not, I found him at the end of my life, and so I came to understand, I was born to meet him, and now, that my purpose has been reached, I can finally feel true and lasting happiness, be for millennia to come, or for the measly seconds my body will be able to handle, which I know are sure falling, failing, my organs, one by one I can feel shutting down deep inside of my being, with the powerful beats of a heart that isn’t mine thrumming in my chest. mine stopped long ago, the song though, it never stopped, his voice joined mine, and from there, I learned tru happiness.

Father was pleased with me, and I was pleased to be of his vessel, please, just let me feel the eternity forever more, and I will sing my jubilation until the sun no longer burns, so please, never abandon, me, for I know not of a life without you as I know of a life without air, I need you, I need you so more and badly, I don’t want to ever let you go.


inspiration, stay with me until I no longer care, I wish for never stop caring, I wish for you to never leave my side.

I am not very good at… thinking, at all, most of my opinions are borrowed, I have no hobbies of my own, they are activities I took as myself to do to have something to talk with people who take them seriously. Everything inside of my head I took from someone else, and I am so tired of having nothing of my own, and I know it is my own fault for it, it is all my fault, I am so lazy that if someone tell me to go west, I would not even consider going east, I wouldn’t even think why should I follow orders at all, I would just do it, because it is easier to do as you are told than coming with things to do by yourself.


I'm a sheep, I am the person historians talk with disgust for letting bad things happen, for being gullible, for living a meaningless life, for not trying, not even to change ones own station, could never change the world.


And I know that, I know that I am not remarkable, no talents I can make money with, or nurture my spirit or something like that. I can only see what is in front of me, and look for instant gratification instead of planning, or working at anything more than 10 seconds,I hate myself, I have nothing but self loathing, I am such a meaningless existence, I feel that just by breathing, I am making the world dirtier with my presence, and why can’t I stop feeling like this? Why can’t I be my own person? Why can’t I do something important, something that matters, something worth living for?


I used to have this mindset, that since I was such a blank slate, I could fill myself with anything, I had freedom to be whatever resonated, even if it took a little time to reach that point, I thought that maybe one day I was going to wake up and the last piece would click into place, and I would know what to do with the life that was given to me…


But that day never came, and I am so tired of waiting.


maybe that is the problem, I have just be waiting for some miracle to happen instead of doing the thing, it just tally up on the count of idiotic things I done. I am just so pathetic, that it hurts, it hurts so much to be nothing, to mean nothing, to have nothing worthy to justify your existence. and I just want to stop hurting. so, yeah, sorry for wasting your time with this letter and everything else. Goodbye


I wonder if I expected something to happen while writing this letter, maybe a weight lifting from my shoulders, but I feel so hollow and at the same time, unbearably filled. filled with disgust, just looking at the letter makes me want to burn it to ashes, I hate how stupid and childish and whiny I sound. but I don’t have energy to write another one, and I also don’t want to leave without saying… something, even if the only thing of worth said was the goodbye. so the letter stays in the table.


the bottle of pills feels so heavy on my pocket, I thought maybe in my last moments I would feel… I don’t know, serenity, maybe some peace. knowing tomorrow wouldn’t come for me.

why do everything I think is so sappy and dumb and childish? oh, the suicide attempt is not fulfilling enough?, not romantic? I only have that twisting feeling in my gut that I have everyday, it just hurts so much more. and I haven’t even taken the pills, well, I guess that is something I can change, at least.


I look from my window, I don’t know what the last thing I want to see should have been. maybe the st ………………………………………………………………… …………………………………………………………………………...


I died then, it was nothing much of worth, I barely noticed when everything went dark, but it hurt, I who thought pills would be the painless way to go, but it hurt so much the blood stagnating in my veins, my heart stopping beating, it hurt so bad, worse than anything I felt alive, and even after everything else died in my body, my brain lasted, long enough to feel the heat leaving me, the biting cold seeping deep into my bones, it was so dark, it hurt so bad.


I woke up as a flower, I had no memory of my own, I was a flower, that I knew for a fact, I remember being a stalk to the moment of my bloom, and I didn’t know why I was a flower.


but I have a feeling that something lacks in myself, I am lesser of a flower because of it, for it seems I have lacked prior to becoming a flower, and for that I couldn't be anything but this.


Then, after being a flower for 2 weeks, I wilted and died, I never understood what it was that make me less, or what was that I never learned before being me. the cold felt familiar, the anxiety and dread I expected never came, it was darkness, but it didn’t hurt, after all, I was a flower, and flowers don’t hurt.


I was a spider, a very spindly and weak, or maybe


what am I doing? what d I want to accomplish, am I just like the sage who he was a sage and truly being a butterfly? what is the point of innocuous fantasy, I am not… I am not! and that is enough to know that something, something is weird, so very weird, I am a spider, that shouldn’t be happening, it shouldn’t be possible, it just shows that the person behind me is clearly having a mental breakdown.


I wait patiently for the dawn to come, the mildew, the water and ripples that form on the surface of the earth, are there something more beautiful than that? are there something more complex, intricate? worth looking at? is that really something worth looking at? ashes to ashes, dust to dust, dirt and wet, there is nothing worth of respect, there is no respite for the world, that begged to not be conceived, and earth shook and cried, in convulsion, for the world was cruel, and life was petty, and saddening.


I have so little space for words, I wonder if I even able to finish this thought, the screaming of the void, it screams so loud, so terribly loud, the emptiness is nothing but the worse of punishments in all the is not existence, you would think that darkness would bring respite, but it does nothing but breed the darkness that existed prior to existence itself, I don’t want to be here, why did I rushed to get to a place of suffering, of suffering so hard that nothing even seems to matter, really, I can only laugh, I am laughing so hard, my throat hurts in a way, but I have no throat left to hurt, the booming echo of a laughter far away resound in the emptiness all around me, I don’t understand, I understand nothing, I wait, I look, but it begins when I stop and stop when I begins.


Slice of beef, the hurt tearing away at my flesh, it tears and tears, it hurts so bad, it is so cold, the silver glint… there is no glint, I have no eyes, I have no bones nor flesh, but it tears all the same, I hate it.


I am not fit for existence, I wish I was never born if I knew suffering such as this is what waits for us.

I am running out of sunlight, barely have time to wake up

The running and tumbling, Half dead, still asleep

Who cares what is in the left or the right

I have been doing nothing all of my life

A waste of space, of air. Goodwill is what I live day to day

In a haze, In a state of trance, Wasting away, wasting on the way

They talk about potential, they look for the best

I had it one time, I can’t quite remember the rest


Now as the time slips through my fingers

Sand on the clock, ticking painfully fast

talk about rest, rest, you want to rest more?

Close your eyes, one last time, to wake up with gray hair

With nothing in the shelf, even the memories are lost


The ashes burning in my hand, not the cigarette

I burn myself with regret, the shot not taken

The one that follows me even in the dark, whispering what could’ve

Could’ve been if I took it, If I failed or succeed, doesn’t really matter

Taunting me as they pile in the back of mind


Sheltered life, life in a shelter, I am worse than a dog

for they say that a old one does not learn a new trick

I failed to learn when it mattered, now I can’t change anything

You learn that you can’t change anything when you don’t try to do better


Now the grease slips away, I feel filthy with the years clinging to my back

It hurts so bad, can’t even stand up, a lifetime of a head lowered

Straight again one last time, when they set my corpse to rest

Can’t say I ever mattered


Life in a closet


The damp, the stains on the sheets, the grease of a old man

Taking me by the back, making me a wreck, can’t even stand as I bleed

They say to the girls to beware of stranger, they failed to say it to me

Now like a dog, he pants in ecstasy, with the merit a job well done

At least one of us is happy to be here


One more day of school, it aches, I can’t put my finger where

Could it be my chest, stuffed with the dreams I know I can’t achieve

Or maybe last night has yet to fade, as one more failed date

to find the one? in this economy? I just want a dick to take the pain away








They pick me by the road, the post on the net, with the day and the time

to where they could find a hole that they could fuck for cheap

the stay for the room is all that I ask as they take me again

one more day, this is the last time I say, as they go away, back to their wives, back to their lives, but the whisper has short legs

it barely leaves my broken lips without the lie sounding out


So once again, the days go bye, the teacher of chemistry gives me a 10

Not like I deserve it, but he does out of fear, of what I could do if I

told anyone what he has done to me, how he made me cry, to lose my mind

he still does it, guess it is mutual then, scum with scum, what a beautiful pair we make


I am not sure what to do with my life, maybe I could start asking for more than a room, maybe their life by my side, I am looking for a golden nest

where I could lay down to rest, and not worry about what to eat in the morning, sometimes I want scrambled eggs, instead of the cum of last night


I really want to write something more, I want to have ideas, I want to fee fulfilled by writing, but dang, it is so hard to do it, I really want someone to take me by the hand and watch me write till the end, I don’t know why can’t I muster the courage to do something so hard alone, I wish for company


There was a cat on a ledge, he was a pitiful cat, battered from the head down to its stub of a tail. it meowned pitifully to the night sky, asking for the moon to sooth its heart, and the moon, taking pity for such a lowly and filthy creature, put the cat to sleep forever, in a darkness where he would never feel pain or anything again.


A stretcher down on the ground, I had it in my house for such a long time that I just remember of its existence when coming down to the basement, it came with the house, so I don’t know what the story is behind the stretcher, but it is a curious thing to be sure.


I remember the summer of 85, you came to my house with your “maroon” mustang, maroon isn’t even a color, but you would ignore me about that, and I would laugh. but this time, I was not happy to see it coming into my garage, you brought a dead girl with you, and my life took a downward spiral since then.


Well, since the garage is so well lit, I wouldn’t have minded having to sleep there, all those people coming to our house to grieve for my mother, it was just… why do they have to camp in the house of a relative they forgot all of their lives, it isn’t like they ever sent any help when we needed it, whenever money was low, we had to pick ourselves up, bunch of trash, if wasn’t for their children, and they saying they would sleep on the street if I didn’t let them stay

I know what they are after, grandpa's collections, the many things he had that now were worth a lot of cash, but tough luck, we already sell it all off to pay Amanda’s college debt.


one paragraph at time, even if it isn’t too fulfilling yet, once I am used to writing lots and lots of ideas, I know I will be able to achieve anything that I want, so, lets get used to writing paragraphs after paragraphs, you know what, in this night here, I think I will be writing a whole story, just paragraph after paragraph, one feet after the other, we should not try to match the speed of those we want to surpass, my legs are not yet build for the strain, the feelings will go sour and for not being able to win the Olympics I will hate myself for the rest of my life, so, let's get used to a light jog around the block, and jog after jog I will finally be able to run a full marathon, I think that is what the guy of Kafka on the shore that wrote that book of running thought off, running is just like writing, and what my goal is just to be able to reach the finish line for once, and that, that is something that I know I able to. so, lets start writing our story for today, I will write as many paragraphs I am able to in, what, I don’t know, the time that it takes I guess


look at the paragraphs, keep looking at them until they become blood flowing on your veins, don’t stop writing until you are able to dye the ocean red with your words alone. and that is what the end goal should be. I want to paint the ocean red. For that reason, I must work on the strategy of, one foot in front of the other.


I am scared, I shouldn’t be, he loves me, he said so, over and over again he made sure to make me understand how much he does, carving his love in my flesh, painting my core in white, I should understand by now that this here is truly love, but even them, as my conscious fades to black and his grip tightens on my neck.


I can only think “I am terrified”, “I don’t want to die” and “I hate feeling pain”. how pathetic is that, to have such ugly feelings for the only one who loves you.


I wonder if today is the day that I don’t wake up.


I hate how hopeful I am for that to happen.


In the darkness, I dream of our lives until this point.


How we met and why we got together.

Mom, Dad, my little brother and sister, how one by one you took them from me.


I hate you from the bottom of my heart, but I can’t let you go.

I was only a delivery guy, taking over the slack of my coworkers, they promised a pack of cheap beer for taking their quota, I didn’t even drink, but I did it anyway, because I feared being hated.


Shit of a day, holy fuck, can I catch a break? The sand got in my shoes and the smell of the ocean made me nauseous. I does rich people always live in so secluded places, why even bother with delivery if they don’t even have a street leading to their houses, fucking clownery is that?


Well, I don’t really know what to think, like, I read one Room Angel… and it was a fucking masterpiece, but why, why does angels soul needs to be a middle school teenager? like, really, 14, 15, no… no, fucking hell that it is. I hate that, and the only way that I can comfort my heart is that the relationship never once became sexual, like, no lust, no inappropriate touching, just. a lonely guy and a lost soul trying to find meaning in a world so filled with negativity, and like, the art was so fucking gorgeous, like, the most beautiful work of harada-sensei of yet, and like, why harada, as a woman, why do you have to be such a creep? don’t think I don’t remember the onii-chan series, bitch, why do you make such fucked up things, why are they minors, like, bitch, why are they minors?????


why are there woman pedophiles, it is an unfair question, why are there pedophiles at all? is a better one

to write a short story for my lesbian gals

romance, lesbians, melancholy, comedy

Cass and Alex. two girls, who are very happy, or are they,

I can only think, how I want one of my mains characters from my golden projects to have this huge sweat pants, that totally doesn’t fit them, but they still use it, tying a not at the leg with the fabric, someone asks if he stole those pants from Aladdin.


I don’t have ability to write the story yet, but it is one of my favorite stories that don’t exist yet, so, I will try some paragraphs of ideas, it doesn’t really matter if they aren't very good, it will be tweaked until I am happy enough with the result.

his arms stretched far beyond the capacity of his skin, the sound of tearing as the white stump with black marrow oozing was enough to make me nauseous, he kept stretching, and the sound as the bones moved inside, tearing, creaking groaning and growing as his whole felt as if being torn apart, his skull, the feeling of it stretching, to the shape of a fawn