Red Book Three

First, the nothingness was scary and made me seem so weary. Now it’s just life w/ the choke hold around its neck. In that pure sweet agony that my soul thrives on. Fill this container, and yet it’s never full, and never will be. It wont’ acquire this potential. This fretting overwhelming fear where all there is is forward and forward is behind and behind is going down and down just never ends.

Don’t apologize or feel sorry. For there was never any more potential inside – except for this. Except for this hellatious party with the torture mongers birthday and the hateful monsters hostess killing massacre of insane ravings – Myself included.

My heart used to smile. pretty pretty. Let it all in. crushed dead, red, disaster. once more.

There is a place where I can hide. Deep corners, hardly light, most definite, sad coming, wait. long. Endure.

FALL. DON’T LOSE YOUR HOLD. TEARS ARE WORTHLESS. BUT MY HEART IS FALLING. LOSING MY HOLD ON THE TEARS.

I think I like to suffer. To choke myself is an unparalleled delight. to stop the madness is secondary to drowning in it. But the moment it leaves, when peace warms me, it seems as if I am only looking forward to my next wound.

I can’t trust.

I waited for the call of hope and stillness choked the air. And its too damn hard not to care.

maybe if I had… * I wouldn’t want it anymore… * I would destroy it.

If all this could be erased, brought back and done again. Would you choose the same choice that you chose?

You don’t even know what pain is.