Saturday, January 31, 2009

Am I?

Am I the one typing this out? It would make sense, take the time to write a mass of crippled characters on to a dark yet inviting blog, in order to explore my mind, and find out who I am, but if I'm not sure I exist, how do I know I didn't lie about this too?
It doesn't make sense... I lied.

I learned a little about her. She knows I need her help, yet she turns her back. Her facts are more important than her virtues - or rather, lack there of. It upsets me, I used to feel so much for her. She was my closest friend. I wished to spend my time with her as we explored the world, ourselves, learned together as a team. She no longer wants to make an account together of a shared past for she feels I must learn everything on my own, or it will not amount in the end. The life I spiked her drik with has become the only life she knows, but thought it was my fault she wound up there, she forgets I'm in it too. Does she long for the day I lose too much of myself to stay alive?

Maybe that would make it a little easier, for the both of us. Insanity isn't a bad thing, it's just so frightening, overwhelming. And fear is so fucking controlling! It has me stuck in lingo, to far gone to turn back, and not far enough to know where I am.

Let's face it, you're lost.

Yes, yes. I am. But is there anyway to repair the damage? Can't I escape this wilderness and find something secure? I need to hold on to it. My security blanket. My protection hat. My lucky charm. Tell me, intelligent written subconcious, am I stuck in a bad trip? If so, will I ever get out? I've never been any good at mazes.

Maybe I am the more 'in touch with myself'' part of you, but I still know no more than you do. I'm just more willing to accept that. And because we don't talk often, I don't have enough time to over-think things and become paranoid and insecure the way you do about everything. You feel dislike towards her because you feel she doesn't care about anything. But couldn't it just be that you don't feel comfortable around anything and you despise and envy her confidence?

Maybe... Oh, help me, please. I dont know what to do with myself anymore.

I am you. I am the part of you that you wish to become. But a part can not become another part. We need each part to join up and make a whole. Do you forget that? The problem is, you've scrambeled the parts so much that they won't fit together anymore. This comes from countless years of covering up for your own mistakes, hiding from the world and trying to pretend something you're not. Now, you are something you are not. Why aren't you satisfied?

I don't know. I don't know who this person I have become is. I don't know why I am consulting myself. I don't know why I broke in to tears over two people I barely even know because of problems they had and the hope in his eyes as he held her hand and begged for the strength to fdorgive her! I don't know who they are. I don't know what my hands are doing. I know nothing...

But now you know you know nothing. Haven't you always had a problem with yourself? The big 'who am I?' constantly at your minds tongue? So why are so so concerened now, of all times? Is it connected to your fallibilism? I think it is. But aren't we taking this journey to find out who you are? We're making progress. In order to fix up a broken and scattered mind, we first have to take it apart again and get inside, then we can repair it. Don't worry, we're having fin, aren't we? It's all about connecting the disconnected. First, let's disconnect the connected.

Oh, please. I'm not sure if my mind plans to help me or destroy me. I suppose I have to trust myself, if no one else.

Wish me luck.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Spiders in the walls

Paper thin walls crumble under the weight of hysteria, a fractal roof falling between the walls and ignoring the spider websas the tumble to the dusty tiles. A stain creeps up the whitest patch with oily fingertips, leaving a silvery liquid path.
Drip, drip, drip.
A muffled whisper in the back of your head.
Be gone.
The warnings will not discontine, they follow the leaking chalk that joins reality to this dream.
Be gone. Be gone. Be gone. Be gone. Be gone. Be gone.
Followed by peculiar laughter, a sinister chuckle dripping with bright, crimson blood. As you envision what picture the giggles hold, the walls urst open and an explosion of brilliant, red light fills the roof, flowing, pulsing, the wall a giant wrist, arm now ripped open from the inside by thousands of hungry spiders.
You back away a little, as pieces of a puzzle clatter to the ground behind you. You count fourty seven pieces, but you know there must be one more. As your eyes fall from the intimidating walls, to the bleeding tiles,searching for the missing peice, your fingers mysteriously make their way to the inside of your mouth.
Prod, prod, prod. It's so dark in here.
Your fingers begin to sew your mouth shut with the most intricate webs ever breathed from the lungs of the Gods, and as you stare in the shattered mirrors, the spiders make a eight legged march towards yours eyes, and with a delicate nod, jump inside to pry through your entre life.
With care, they sort out what you remember, what you forgot, what you forgot you remembered, what you thougth you remembered but really made up and the poison make-up you had painted to your eyelids for the majority of those years.
But their task proves more difficult than expected.
Hmmm, it seems that you are unsure of anything anymore. We do not know which of this is lies, lies, lies and which is a non-fictional novel, an autobiography written by the very hands of you. But who are you? Whose thoughts are these? Someone must figure it out, but you can't, for you are no longer a part of your mind.
They work more furiously now, their pace quickened as they devour some unimportant imagery. And then, they begin to sing, and dance, their little legs trotting around in the very center of your glass eyes, as if they were trapped in a jar.
So why do the caged spiders sing?
The eldest of the spiders laughed, a choking laugh, glass down his throst sort of laugh. My eyes fell down my torso and in to my lap in small peices that soon became caught beneath fingernails.
Why does the caged man sing? As he sits behind his glass tomb of cracking ice, taking in the horrors of the world... But you are free, for you took it with in yourself and you became so terribly enlightened. Lifted high with the spirits as your world merged with the drawings from your childhood, as rainbows fell from the sky and the lights would decide to fly around your head in a some kind of twisted ritual. And now you are blind, but only physoically. Can you still see the pretty colours?
A simple yes would've done fine, but by then you had falled backwards in to the pool of light. You were gone and no one could find you. And you had been away so long no one remembered you for a while, even when the bidy was found. Such a smile, decorating your pretty skin. Morbid beauty. The dead Cinderella.
But then the spiders wrote it in their web.


Friday, January 23, 2009


As days drip in to weeks, I still wonder what I'm doing here. Things repeat themselves and fold backwards over eachother, an endless whirl-pool of constant madness.

What walls become smeared with fingerprints and dents from angered residents, how long until we see the red flowing?

She talks softly, sometimes too softly for me to even hearher, but still, in my mind, I can make out the words, and I know she misses me just as much as I miss her, but I'm too scared to tell her how I feel.

The marks expand, a filter for the lies, as the smoke rises and ashes fall, and she sings the ancient lullaby derived from the song sung at her fathers funeral.

A cardboard copy of a person, and she mocks me, she knows I'm just a fake. Teary eyes of molten lava, a most wonderful experience to be shared with the folk of the desolate hallway, light trailing off in to nowhere.

And there I will walk.
As days fall in to months, I feel the centuries wash over me, a waterfall of time, eternal...

I scream out, but you were not there.

And as time falls over itself, I feel the changes inside of me burtsting forward in a stream of transcendant light.

You are so beautiful.

And there I had been.

The Snake

The snake wound itself around, curling, traveling centimetres at a time. So slow and graceful in it's journey, a delicate flower ready to be born, opened, ready to be harvested. And it's cold, dead eyes locked on my watery blue-grey holes and it warned me.
Go away, you do not belong, and they do not like those that do not belong.
And I knew who it spoke of, but how could I leave when I had no where to go? I should have felt leaking eyes, liquid streaking my face leaving trails of black ink, a smudged and smeared masterpeice, the battered queen. But the snake, it was so calm.
Cold skin, soft, elegant as it danced it's way up my arm, so determinated and doing so well in it's mission. For it had decided.
Dance with me.
And I could do nothing but move my eyes from side to side in an awkward jig, feeling no music, deaf to any noises but the gentle hum of a million serpents as they made their way in to my brain. A pack of vultures as they settled on their prize to feed, manipulating me with their venomous voices.
And I felt the poison rushing in, injected, my own form of heroin, as it melted away my skull and let the contents seep in to the empty shell of my head. Peices of a scattered mind falling in a bitter catastrophe as they began to feast, heads buried amongst the pale pink.
They's torn their way through skin and bone, ripped, crushed and leaking my brains all over the floor, and they lapped it up hungrily.
You mindless creation, look what they've done to you? Oh.but we warned you. We triedto get you to leave, but you kept coming back for more. Such greed.
The words dripped heavily from the serpents pretty tongue as he made his way out my eye socket, forcing the eye down the sides of my face in a full circle, then pushing it in to my mouth, my tongue wetting the already moist morsel, and as I bit down, I tasted all my memories, all the visual experience, all the colors and lights came back to me. It was spectacular. I'd never seen it all at once, and now here it was, inside my mouth, as I tasted all my visions once more.
And now the snakes began to feed me peices of my brain.
These are the thoughts you neglected to think. They were always there, you just couldn't find it within yourself to think anymore, could you? But here is the mind you thought you'd lost. It's still there.
I chewed each thought with care, the taste peculiar.
Never will I venture that far. But the experience, it must be had. And I learned so much from it, could more be taken? What an adventure, I'm up for more.
Too late, I forgot that I locked the door. I was trapped here and I couldnt stay any longer, not with my mind rebuilding itself...
Too late, I forgot there is no escape. I'm stuck in a circle, a permanant loop, and it isn't just a game anymore, Hide and Go Seek is well and truely a thing of the past. Sometimes I wonder how I can remember that far back.

The last thing I saw was my hands crashing in to my eye sockets, nails ready to tear me to shreds. The last thing I thought was...
Oh dear, I think I'm gone.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009


It happened.
Only problem is, I'm not sure what.
But there is no way of putting it other than a complete 'snap' in that imaginary thing we all pretend exists, the mind.
Maybe it has something to do with the acid. But God help me, I can't get enough! Being scrambled to the extent in which you can not deny it, constant, churning loops of nonsense whirring past your eyes. Even if I lose my mind before I'm twenty, what a better way to do it!

I always have so much in my mind. Currently, I'm wondering why I other thinking, but I can not stop. I can not stop tuning in and dropping out. It hurts, it confuses, what is the sense in this madness?

I'm becoming more and more what I should be. Not what I want to be, what I really am, or what I need to be, but honestly, what I should be.

But, I don't know what that is...
But this changing... I feel so disconnected.

It's unnatural, it hurts me.
But I know I must do it.

Wish me luck.