loneliness

The Slit.

Night after night. My head is haunted by visions. They are gruesome and sometimes, terrifying. Maybe it has to do with the kind of phase I’m going through in life. It is ugly. Humanity as we know it is turning into a rotting carcass and we are surviving off cannibalisation, not just in the sense of eating up each other for our own progress. But also, in the sense of the culture of death. The culture of stringent values being imposed on free souls. Indoctrination of the masses. It’s paralysing and soul-shattering at the same time to see a species so high in potential, grasp and level of intelligence has literally stooped to the level of anarchy and the literal standstill in terms of foresight the older generation has.

 

The escalation. It frightens me. I shake as I write. Again. I wish things would be better. But things never do. It’s like a giant spiral dragging you down and the faster you go, the more chaotic it gets. Until nothing is left except trying to hold onto what you once held dear and near to you. Only, everything changes. Friends become foes. Family become strangers. Strangers become acquaintances. Maybe it is my misfortune that I have been born in such an age, such a place. Things never really worked out that great for me. I was always.

 

The Underachiever. I don’t see things linearly. Maybe it’s my curse. My personal eternal hell. Is it so wrong to do what one feels right? Has humanity reached such a tipping point that right ceases to be wrong. wrong ceases to be right. All that’s left is the desperation. The moving along, the finding a fucking job. The finding a fucking cheap imitation. Killing yourself plastic coarse hypocritical mass murders inside your head. They don’t stop screaming. The visions. Brother killing brother. The infinite slaughter. Of all that was, all that remains.

 

A rotting carcass. Rivers of blood and spine-curdling screams. Where is your god? Where is your mercy? Is it background score for the little child that sits and cries day after day looking at the blank stare of her own mother, once animated full of life, a beautiful soul. What has your god done for her. Where is the humanity. Instant Slit.

 

They all slit. My knees turn into purple blue jellyfish and all I could see were chairs moving, chairs smashing down. upon heads. Upon feet. Upon all that’s left. It smashes down like a slivered nightmare. It’s a purple mist that descends after all is lost. It’s a severed limb, this joke of a humanity, that we call it.

 

Mockery for everyone. We have fruit punch and potatoes in today’s special of massacre served with a cold side-dish of despair and hysteria. Run for your lives, while we drink your blood through and through. One lives while millions die. Is this equality. Is this where I rest my head on. Contamination amok. All creation runs foul. one way or the other. One day or the other.

 

It’s all a circle seesaw merry go round before they kill you in your sleep. They blind you. It was just manic laughter till the blood spews out. And the day it did, it was ugly poison. They drink and rejoice while I kill myself a little slowly one day after the next.

 

Before.

The Slit.

Stories of Long Lost Faith

Vacant eyes.
An isolated head.
She was a beautiful nightmare.
Heart full of teary-eyed half-broken dreams.
She could breathe.
Living in a plastic-packaged cheap dream.
Selling all she can buy.
Living it all.
Seeing it crumble behind her.
All the things that die.
She could live for ever and ever.
A packaged cold-storage for all the world to touch and feel.
Awfully struck brilliance.
She took everything she could.
Living by the road.
Creating a violet-red streak of fire as she passed through the town.
People could smell the light.
And everybody peaked out of their windows to see what was the bright light in the middle of the dark deep ocean.
Shooting up like an earthquake.
Tearing up the sky like a midsummer night’s dream.
Too horrendous to see it stumble.
Too brilliant to see it stand back up again and pose for the cannibalistic cameras.
The lights. Diabolic peaks of unaccounted energy burning up the atmosphere like a rocket on fire.
Violas screamed.
Sheets of paper tore themselves up.
Another one lost in the static.
Trying to scream their way through.
Never really found out what she was living for anymore.
She lept and jumped through the rabbit maze like a lone finger trying to catch up with the rest of the fanfare.
To be followed and to live life like there’s no tomorrow.

Nobody knows.
She was faith.