Thursday, May 21, 2009

Be my demon.

You were the first to notice it.
But dear, this is not a mannequin you're staring at. This is armor, a shell, a corset, a pretty dress, a cage.
I'm falling in and out of myself, all my links are disestablished and I can't repair any connections.
What you are staring at is a person too arrogant to admit when they're wrong, too fucked up to care, lacking too much hope to try anymore.
So, there are three options, when one feels they can not be. I could take the easiest way out, the obvious one, but I've no taste for suicide because I am terrified of death. Simply, I have not sold myself to any idea of what happens next, and the concept of the unknown sends shivers down my spine. I want to breathe. The cigarettes hate me a lot.
The next option is of letting yourself be taken over by some sheer form of insanity. While I would argue I am already quite insane, talking to demons and going on crazy rants of chaos, they all say I'm nowhere near that state. Wishful thinking, I guess.
Intstead, I let my demon help me here, because I needed to meditate, needed to freshen up, needed to clear my head. Because I let him, he's making me into some idiotic little fuckwit, so distant, so unprepared, so conceited. This isn't me. It isn't what I want. But the idea here is to drive me out of my self, not my mind, but myself. And thus, I will cease to feel, and only observe. No actions, no decisions, no consequences. But I'm too unstable to let the process complete, to download the final files and install the new program. We have a shortcut here, but that is all we've done.
I'll eventually, after hours of the dream-like-state, come out with the line "I just remembered who I am", followed by some morbid words that will turn my current friend to a wavering "Okay".
I think it's too late. I already gave him permission, whilst fucked up over fucking up some fucked up persons fucked up mind because of some fucked up reason that my fucked up self can't seem to remember. Real or not, my mind already made the decision. And I'm starting to sink into something similar to depression, but with ubiquitous amounts of self-love, the kind that people want to shoot you for, all the while you are tempted to massacre the world, and then faceplant into a sea of spikes. It's something I can't understand.
"The world ends when I end. What's the brightest thing you've ever seen?". You can help me. So can Mr. Half-smile, and the fallen Angel. My shining star can not any longer. Something happened. I can't allow myself to think about it, I don't want to, I can't, I can't, I can't.
I feel everything. I feel the rise and fall of every star. We are the last. But I'm fading.
Remark with something witty, tell me I'm talking shit and that I'm okay. But I don't believe you anymore. I can't.
And only a little part of me wants out of this arteficcial happiness. The rest is too greedy to remember. And this part that can be fucked won't stay for long. Who knows if it's even still here?So let us hope, for the sake of everyone and everything that I love and hate, the things that disgust me and the things I respect.... That I will come back to me.
Just hold me tightly and whisper lies down my neck in hot breath... Be my demon. I am completely in his control now.

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