Entries from May 2003 ↓

I wanted to kill myself today,
Once again I got blamed for nothing I did.
All this pain building up in me,
They have finally cast their last bid!

I am mad; furious,
They have no idea what I feel.
They just yell and discipline,
I am through with their deal.

I walk by everyone,
And tell them good-bye.
For they have no idea,
That I am about to die.

I go to my room,
Out the window I look.
I think and I realize,
My world has been shook.

With blade in my hand,
And thoughts in my head.
I slit my wrists,
And collapse to my bed.

With sheets blood stained,
“It’s over!” I said.
I take one final breathe,
On the floor I lay dead.

Painless end to life
Cannot take it anymore
Blade; slice; blood; fall; dead.

In dreams
you taste the cocaine rain,
and frolick through opium fields.
If you look up high into the light heroin sky,
it all seems endless, so real.
Eat the precious marijuana fruit,
ripe and sweet like always.
Let it sink it, take it all in.
In dreams
be happy and carefree.
Skip these meth crystals
into the rivers of esctasy,
so clear and iridescent.
In dreams
take a risk.
There’s a chance
you may never wake up again.

Ten past twelve shows the clock, moving its metallic hands, with every second to mark. I am tiered of being alone. People point and stare at me because I am different, different because I think! Higher forces of people control our lives; they control us with lies that lead to pain and suffering. I can not stand how stupid and controllable these people are.

The clock ticks second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour. My classmates talk silently not caring about their fate, believing in a so called heaven to avoid fear of death. Believing somehow that death is not the end, that death is the beginning of something new.

The clock keeps ticking. I pull out a shotgun and the silence roars into screams of panic. I look into the eyes of my classmates, fear is on their faces; fear of dying and discovering that there is no past-life. I killed them one by one. Blood rushing onto the floor, painting the carpet with a dark red. Twenty-three bodies lay in front of me. Blood is all over the floor and walls.

The clock ticks on. A tear falls from my eye. I raise the gun silently to my head and pull the trigger. The blast echoes through my head, darkness blinds my sight and I fall with a thud to the ground. Twenty four bodies lay on the class floor. Silence is throughout the room, the only sound that is to be heard is the sound of the clock ticking rhythmically, second by second, minute by minute…

…tick, tick, tick, tick…

Friendship is a gift,
A gift we all receive,
Friends say they’re there forever,
This we all believe.

Time you spend together,
Time your not alone,
Endless nights talking,
Upon the telephone.

They like it when you’re happy,
They help when you are sad,
Friends say they’ll stay forever,
Even when things go bad.

They say they’ll keep your secrets,
They say they’ve never lied,
You don’t think twice about telling them,
You have nothing to hide.

You trust them more than ever,
You think they’ll always stay,
But others see right through them,
And tell you not to play.

Why do we believe them,
Why do we think they’ll stay,
As soon as things get hard,
These friends all go away.

They make up little stories,
They think its all good fun,
When people see them lying,
That’s when they start to run.

They slowly get more popular,
Your not needed any more,
They snub you for the others,
It’s like you’re just a bore.

Friends they come and go,
And things will always be the same,
There is one thing you can be sure of,
In the end only enemies remain.

Friends will never change,
No matter where you go,
You just have to find someone genuine,
Then you’re sure to know.

Know that they’re not lying,
Know they’ll never leave,
This is what we hope for,
This is what we believe.

This was meant to be happy,
But how can you stay that way,
When all your friends desert you,
In every possible way.

Red is the colour of fire,
Red is the colour of the hearts desire,
Red is the colour of the anger within,
Red is the colour of devil and sin.

Red is the colour of blood stained sheets,
Red is the colour of slaughtered meat,
Red is the colour to signal a stop,
Red is the colour of the suicidal drop.

Red is the colour of death and destruction,
Red is the colour of a volcanic eruption,
Red is the colour of the heart which beats,
Red is the colour of depressions defeats.

Red is the colour of everything inside,
Red is the colour of suicide.

So many pretty faces
Met and found at different places
But there is only one looking for you
Only your heart truly knows who
Thousands of different languages to be spoken
Everyones hearts just waiting to be broken
Cruelty and violence is a killer
But falling in love is the main thriller
So many different feelings come from love
When your in the right one your flying above
But it can change all so quick
Leaving you feel so emotionally sick
Some people can pick up and leave
Some people just dont want to believe
We all have our own ways of dealing with pain
Some forget it easily while some turn insane
But people do not see this until
The pain gets so hard you just want to kill
Not any person but just the pain they cause to be there
Burning your heart…no one seems to care

- Kim

Erupting with rage,
Endlessly giggling to themselves,
Trying to disengage,
Seeing evil elves.

Seeming so beautiful and kind,
Fitting in with the rest,
Quickly as they change their mind,
Do they become angry and distressed.

Isolation grows,
Withdrawing from it all,
Frightened eyes glow,
As they take a dramatic fall.

Not stopping anytime soon,
The dark side of the moon.

All it took was just one drive
Racing, turning, feeling the thrive
Having the seat filled by one
Holding the wheel until the dark sun
Never stopping to think about it all
Never knew you’d turn out to be the fool
I’m home alone feeling the emptiness
Your out there and couldn’t care less
Her filthy hands trace your skin
Never knew of the pain i’d feel within
Cheated kisses you give and take
I wish you could’ve seen my heart break
Knowing you lied to make me ok
Just makes me want to scream and see that you pay
But i dont want to do the same and hurt you inside
But these feelings i have i just cannot hide
It rips and breaks the last pieces i hold
Everythings gonna be ok, i keep getting told
But as life goes on things seem to die
People you loved shamelessly lie
I never thought it could be so hard to say ‘goodbye’ to the one you love
But just maybe when its time for me to leave…i can wait and watch you from above

- Kim [i dont like that ending]

Sitting alone trying to figure out this place
My memeory struggles to remember your face
The images on the T.V begin to blur
I dont want to think but I know you with her
The world seems so dark when you’re not around
The beat of my lonely heart is the only sound
It stumbles and stirs to find its place
Finding it hard to get through this race
So many people turn and walk away
Not looking back to realise you need them to stay
The petals fall and the moon tries to hide
But walking away wont make me leave ur side
The memory of you just being there
Is slowly fading and seeming to tear
But no matter how hard I try to hold onto you
Your footsteps leave me and your not the person I once knew

- Kim

Rising edge. Taunt flesh.
Edge drawn to point,
And parting bite.
Flesh drawn to pain,
For want of any to want
-the edge desires it.

Lines, thin, red.
Like swelling memories,
born and carried.
Edge, hard, goes in, out, in.
Breaks skin. Fills flesh,
With red. And goes.

You fucking wimps are still here,
Get your Mothers razor that she uses to clean up her cunt with and slash your throats you faggots.

You all saw me as a soul crying out for attention but were you right?
no you weren’t.
I was myself, i liked who i was, or did i?
I was always left out in the shadows while She got all the attention.
I hate her.
Ive always hated her, but you said it was sibling rivalry.
but its much more then that.
I sat alone in the darkness i sat, hating you all while She got the spot light.
I wasn’t at all like her, but you all insisted I was.
I was discriminated against, ignored.
you all said you cared about me..but you never did i knew it.
When He came into the family, you all ginored me even more.
but Im used to it.
I dont bother anymore to make you proud of me.
I shut myself up in my room, you wonder why.
I dont have manners, I dont like being in crowds for a long time, you wonder why.
Im angry inside my head, and I show it when i want to, but you continue to ignore me.
I get pushed away, mentally beaten and putdown.
I sit ther and take it, at the time I think its true, when its not.
I like the dark and evil things, you all wonder why.
you all think im mental and need angry managment, maybe I do, but only because of you.
I was a happy kid, the kind you saw playing on play grounds and laughing and picking flowers.
that didn’t last long, i changed that when i was about 10 years old, because i saw what was going on.
I light my room my candle light, and you ask my why I do this, but I dont answer.
I play with fire, you tell me to be carful, but do you mean it? no, eventhough you say you do.
She and..Him get all the attention from everyone.
everyday its “how is she” or “how is He”
but never “how are you”
Ive learned to deal with this.
to accept this.
but Im still hurting inside, I cant help it.
I want to break down crying when I see Her and everyone talking to Her and Her showing off.
I just want to crawl into a ditch and die, but I dont, physically anyway.
My face is always expretionless, and you all think Im fine so you ignore it.
I know you all hate me.
So why dont you just say so!
its obvious.
but…Ill leave this issue alone for right now, maybe for another 16 years.

-poetic

The morning, the sun,
light beats my face
Another day in ‘paradise’
Hell in heaven
good place, bad people

-

Hate, not so much as jealousy
jealous of the happiness
bourne by the rest
I bear but a curse
Of darkness, of hate

A curse that weakens
to the point of
self destruction
No reason to live
but life itself

Shattered shards
of glass long unkept
glued together
too many times
Never layed to rest

shards dripping
blood
innocent or guilty
irrelevent
Only anger lets me

survive

That night I went to sleep, not worried, nothing amiss,
Even though underneath my bed there was emitted a slow, deep hiss…

I treaded the floorboards lightly, ever so much with care,
On my way to turn a light on,
I was very, very scared.

Deeming my childish curiosity, a very frightful thing,
I crawled right back into bed, and heard a doorbell ring.

There wasn’t anyone I was expecting,
Especially at this late hour,
So when I clambered down the stairs,
I immediately started to cower.

A harsh knocking came, with a voice to wake the dead,
It called upon me, making me stuck to one spot; lead.

I ran back upstairs and hid under cover,
Waiting for whatever was outside, to stop its eerie hover.

I tried to sleep just then, I really did,
But all around me, I knew something hid.

Deciding to phone someone, and enlist of them some help,
Ask them what the hell was happening, me floating like helpless kelp

But to no avail, did I succeed, alas,
The line was cut,
The phone was out,
And from salvation I was permanently shut

Deciding to try, to escape the house,
I felt trapped inside, like an insignificant mouse.

I didn’t notice the axe, as I stepped off the deck,
As the blade cut through my neck, I thought, “Aww, heck!”

With my head falling down, to the ground and far beyond,
I screamed a guttural sound, until there was no breath to be found.

My fate is sealed, I cannot change it,
But I will kill more, now, my own little hissy fit.

Just when they least suspect, I’ll cut off the head,
My murdering method, from under my bed…

Several years have passed since I have last been in contact with anyone. Alone and remorseful for all of the wrong deeds I have committed I exist; society’s judgement has condemned me. I am full of guilt; a shallow puddle of water is all that consoles me. Nothing but the moon’s subtle reflection emanates from within this puddle. Its solidarity matches mine in more ways than I can imagine. Its personified life seems to mirror mine. I can only hope that within this dull life I can somehow find happiness.
The stars have come out, gradually appearing behind the veil of clouds. Each light holds a faint hope that someday I will escape from this hell. Nothing has stopped me thus far from thinking these thoughts; in the beginning I had expected them to brainwash me, conforming me to their idealistic society. I no longer respect, nor appreciate them: did I ever?
A thatch hut is all that they have provided me with; well, wood to build a thatch hut. I had to hike this jungle-desert to find the thatch myself, in pouring rain. The day I arrived it didn’t stop, allowing me not a moment of sleep. The ceiling was dripping even before I got here. When I did, there was no human touch, no compassionate human touch.
As I lie awake, bare and alone, I always think. I have never once conceded to their beliefs that I am guilty; I am not, so why should I? It is already too late to gain sympathy, to return to the normal living of society; how could I even want to, after what they’ve done to me? I cannot forgive them. Damned and forgotten, I will pity none of them for whatever guilt may come of them, if they may be so humble as to receive it.
I think I am on an island; I haven’t been able to go all the way around yet, but I have climbed a treacherous mountain, punishing in itself, and looked all around me. There is nothing but black water, a morbid reminder that there is only one way to escape.
I haven’t seen anyone else on this great rock; maybe that’s why the water is so black; maybe I’ve been lucky. Occasionally I’ve heard a primal scream, late at night. Maybe that’s where the other prisoners went.
I think. I always think. There is nothing but my tortured thoughts to caress my being, deprived of living. This has happened to others before, and will in the future, all because the majority are different. Is this pain and suffering justified by what supposed crimes I and others like me have committed? When did this world turn against its own kin, for what reason? This future is not that far off; even today, it has begun. It is just a matter of time before it affects you.

In the darkness.
All alone.
A forlorn shadow.
To never be known.

No emotion showing.
On his apathetic face.
The masochist this world created.
A portrait of death’s embrace.

Scars running down his arms.
Like a seething fall from grace.
Oblivious to the sorrow inside.
Deep in his soul, pain doth reside.

Eyes like tarnished jewels.
Taking in all around him.
Sadistic soul;Bathed in sin.
A cloak of dread surrounds him.

Dreary eyes of suicide.
Hide in a wilted garden.
Deep inside the graveyard lies.
A tormented shadow disgarded.

Then lo’ the pale moonlight came.
Tearing an ebon veil from his face.
To show the festering pain.
That love came to create.

Living in an isolated exsistance.
Death’s poetry floods his soul.
His heart dark and empty.
Yearning for feelings he would never know.

With a trembling breath.
He brought the knife up to his neck.
To embrace the peace of death.
And lay his darkened soul to rest.

But ’twas only his body that died.
His soul, to this world is tied.
He was now a vampire, imortal.
Cast to the earth where torment would unfurl.

He was evil’s greatest creation.
By god himself he was forsaken.
The principle of evil made flesh.
No longer left with nothingness.

He would rule over the world.
Killling all who caused him sorrow.
He would be the new god.
All would worship him on the ‘morrow.

He is in your dreams.
The darkness in your eyes.
The rapture in your screams.
VAMPIRE ARISE.

SUPREME VAMPIRIC EVIL

There is a part of me that is quite empty indeed. There was someone there once, but now a section of my heart has been emptied, save for the dust and webs.
That part of me was once inhabited by a vampire.
I never understood it, at first, how I would have a morbid fascination with dead bodies, why seeing blood on the evening news made my stomach double over in hunger and make my brain work double.
I never understood why I hurt people.
See, when I was about nine, I felt these… I don’t know, erotic urges. There was something lustful about them. Not sexual so much as… wanting to take. Wanting to control, a part of me commanding subservience. A desire to coerce people, usually my age but often older, into opening their skin and serving me their blood.
I’d arrange meetings sometimes, so that I could seduce someone into surrendering. Other times I’d camouflage myself in the night, exercising expert stealth to sneak into a home and sap the occupants of their lives. I realize, looking back, that it was a force of impulse, like going out for a midnight snack run.
By night I was this… creature. Something animal and savage, something my conscious mind thought that I had to subdue. And by day I was this magnetic personality… but people I was around complained of fatigue and headaches while I felt more alive for it.
But this wasn’t my identity at all. Were my nighttime ventures were a regression to animalistic behavior, something primal and beneath my consciousness, my “real” self?
No, this wasn’t any regressive behavior. This was an alternate personality, a roommate in the cell of my body. A vampiric parasite within a parasite… one who fed off of those I fed off of for it.
Doctors were baffled by my wounds on the night I attempted to kill myself. There was no knife, no razor, nothing metal of any kind. There wasn’t any blood on the floor, only on my shirt. It was as if an animal tried to attack me, then cleaned up after it was done. This, for all intensive purposes, was true.
I remember the illusions, the dementia, the hallucinations. This alternate, this parasite, wanted me that night. My life was the candle it wished to snuff.
I fought it, with all my might. But the insanity grew to the point I couldn’t bear. The illusions too powerful, the dementia too strong, the hallucinations… too real. The vampire cut my wrists with its fangs…my teeth… and began to drink.
Finally, it decided to leave. I couldn’t survive in the state in which it left me. I gasped for breath and called the police.
I claimed that I couldn’t remember what happened. It would be too unbelievable. How should I know? I scarcely believed it myself.
I researched after that, learned what vampirism meant for people. Both bloodlust and psychic draining were things of which I was guilty, and as soon as I learned of them, I did my best to control them.
To this day, I still absorb an essence from people I come in contact with. They’ll complain of fatigue while I wonder where a memory came from. They’ll wonder at a headache while I decipher one of the questions burning in the backs of their minds. I don’t draw it in at all, it simply comes. A magnet amidst iron flakes.
But the bloodlust has gone, its host with it. For fear of harming myself or a dear one again, I took a nail file to my mouth, grinding away the points of my sharp canines. In doing so, I ground away the base of the small house that once contained this parasite. To this day, it has never returned. It knows, I reason, it would come back to an empty home with no one to welcome it. I pray it feels the same. Its tools of the trade gone, its mission to destroy me failed, its one-time companion having closed the door to it. Ground down fangs hardly make suitable tools of its trade, and a one-time victim hardly makes a suitable host.

you showed me the path
and i choose to take it
when i was down
you knew i would make it
we’ve had our good times and our bad
we’ve had our happy times and our sad
but through them all you were there
and now i realize how much you care
you gave me a lot that i didn’t deserve
but to you, my heart, i reserve
i act like i don’t care but i really do
i don’t dare to think the result of loosing you
you mean so much to me i can’t even explain
you’ve helped me through so much of my pain
i will always have you in my heart
even after the day we part

Dedicated to a certain someone….lol

The tides push forward, receding, and then back again. Like an eternal flow they carry on: powerful, majestic, peaceful with an evil smirk on its face. Two years ago my last touch with humanity was snatched so viciously away; pulled from my feeble grasps of despair. I console myself with this journal, the last to be ever written. Soon I will join my wife, soon.
My story begins in my youth, when I was about 9. I lived in a very small community where everyone knew everyone. I lived a tad out of town, about half an hour away, on a small acreage. The acreage itself was quite dilapidated, and there were no animals. The grounds were fairly well kept, but the hired gardener we had was growing old, and the weeds were catching up with him. My family worked not on the farm, but in town where there were a scattering of jobs for most of them.
One night while gazing through my telescope a few minutes from my house, I spotted an abnormal star. It grew brighter at a brisk pace, yet not moving. I decided upon the explanation that I was witnessing an extraordinary event of Mother Nature, a Super Nova. That was quickly dismissed after it grew to about the size of my fist I had put up in the air beside it; and now thought it to be a meteoroid about to come in close contact with the Earth near to me. I, along with my helpful telescope, scurried over to behind a rock face. With its light growing in intensity; its speed gathering; its noise close to deafening, it flew past me with enough force to knock me down while also succeeding in taking the air with it. The rock face I had hid behind protected me from getting burnt or obliterated. With a great explosion, it crashed into a field a few hundred feet away, but not before blowing a few trees apart and a fence. I rushed over with growing excitement, mixed with a little fear, combining into a startling adrenaline. The ground around and leading to it was burnt, destroyed, and moved. It had created a crater more than a few meters wide, while smouldering with an incandescent light; a strange, burnt-atmosphere smell which lingered around it not unlike after an electrical storm. The air was warm and surprisingly moist. My first look upon this heavenly phenomenon was not a good one, for there was still smoke and haze hanging about in the ether. After it had cleared, I quickly got two sticks in which I was going to place my outer-worldly companion. I cautiously stepped down the embankment while all of my concentration was on not slipping.
Once I got down right beside it, it looked rather normal, except for small holes developed all around it. It looked warm and was glowing faintly. Not until I had placed the stone on my meek gathering of two sticks did I see inconspicuous blue ooze flowing silently from some of the holes. I decided rather half-wittedly to touch the substance. When I did, it was warm and flowed freely almost like water but with some elasticity. It seemed to evaporate soon after I had touched it so I kept on accumulating more and more on my hand. It was after a few seconds that I had realised that it was amassing itself inside my skin, for my surface was glowing not unlike the goo itself. Frightened yet interested, I was clueless upon what to do. The meteorite, I guess I will call it, seemed to have cooled down a considerable amount from when I first gazed upon it. I licked my fingers then quickly touched the rock, checking to see its warmth, carefully retreating afterwards. I was foolishly curious; I tasted the residue on my feeble fingers. They tasted almost metallic, yet not quite. Another taste that was almost recognised by my other senses, was none like I had ever tasted before. My fingers were still wet with saliva, so I assumed that I could hold it in my hands. It was only about 9 or 10 inches wide with close to the same as length. Now, in my youth I have done silly things, this being one of them, and I can’t even try to forgive myself for it.
As I carried this celestial object, I found it to be rather light, also. I managed to carry it, along with my telescope, back to my house. I had to go a variety of different paths before reaching my home because of the vast debris and burning objects. When I had reached my house, I had found that my parents along with my sister were all asleep. I quietly sauntered up the stairs to my bedroom. I put the telescope back into my closet, placed the meteorite on my drawer, undressed, and went to sleep.
In the night my dreams were fascinating, at first. I was flying close to ground level, then suddenly willing myself to fly higher, I did. It was so wonderful and felt so real. But, the surrounding earth was quite different. Everything was wilting, dying, and I had felt that it was my entire fault. I was overcome with a sense of helplessness and a failed dependency. No one that I could immediately see was around; in fact cars were parked in the middle of the street. As I came down for a closer look I saw that people, skeletons, were leaning on the seats. All the buildings were as if they had been left behind for hundreds of years, left to rot and degrade. In another thousand years this would all be gone. Everything reduced to the pile of dust everything began from. Nothing was left except complete and utter despair. Newspapers blew by silently, going wherever the cold wind would take them. Little dust devils appeared then dispersed, their short lives the only ones left.
Why, why had this terrible thing happened? Why was it my fault? So many questions I asked myself that night, none of them answered. I felt compelled to get the answers, but I knew of no place to find them.

In the morning I’d forgotten the whole thing, happy as a normal nine year-old boy should be. But then I saw the hunk of rock staring at me cold in the face, already making an unnoticeable depression beneath it. It: a solemn reminder of my dream, of all the suffering. In my schoolboy anger I hastily threw it out the window and watched it fall into the little creek where I loved to go fishing. Cursing myself for throwing it where I’d have to see it the next time I went fishing, I went downstairs to have breakfast and try to forget about it.
I went downstairs, but only to have it smothered into my face. A news reporter was conversing with the weatherman about the meteorite that fell last night near our area. My meteorite on my land.
“Well, Tom, that was an unexpected meteor-shower yesterday, what was up with that?”
“Well, nobody saw it coming. It just appeared out of thin air. Also, coincidentally, there was a great electrical disturbance 19 miles away from the edge of the atmosphere. We’ve already dispatched a team to go and collect the meteorite, if there’s anything left, and find where it fell. We’re all stumped back at NASA, we’ve never-“
“Hold on a minute there, we’ve just received word, uh-huh, yes, we’ve just received word that another meteorite has fallen in Odessa, Texas. Whether these two incidents are related, we’ve yet to find out; there was also, however, an electrical disturbance, a few minutes ago, which was exactly twenty-four hours from the time the last electrical disturbance was recorded, which was followed by that meteorite. There was nobody hurt; it landed way out in the middle of nowhere, in the plains a few miles away from Odessa. We will keep you up to date on all of this, please stay with CNN.”
Right after that there was a formidable pounding on the door, almost as if on cue. Two suits had been sent out to find the meteorite, and now they were here, questioning my family. My family, of course, had no idea what had happened. I didn’t plan on telling them; it didn’t seem like something that you just told your parents. Well, my parents acted like normal, unknowing folk, which was what they were. Then they questioned us separately, as if they had something to hide. But I knew they didn’t know a thing, just as clueless as I was. When it was my turn I quietly remembered what I was going to say to him, what I had previously prepared.
“Son, your mother tells an interesting story. She said you were down near the area where we believed the meteorite to have impacted the land. What was it again you were doing, looking through a telescope of yours? You’d think that you would’ve at least seen something.”
“No sir, nothing at all,” I lied.
“With that telescope of yours, you’d be blind not to have seen anything. So why are you denying knowledge of any of this? We’ve checked this whole area: thirty-five miles square. Not even a single singed blade of grass.”
They checked a radius of thirty-five miles and uncovered nothing. That took a while to sink in. For a moment my brain tried to rationalise what he’d just said, like all people do after something incomprehensible transpires. I thought what had happened wasn’t real, that I had just dreamt finding the rock, with all of its destruction, even up to now, with this man in front of me, interrogating me. His rancid stale breath brought me back to reality.
“No sir, I didn’t see anything, not even a flash of light. But I did get in early; I might’ve missed it. Sorry, sir,” I lied again.
“Well, if anything happens, anything you do see, you let us know. Your father’s got our number.”

After that day, where and when it all began, nothing happened; no explanations, no more falling meteors where there shouldn’t have been; nothing for fifteen years. In that fifteen-year absence nothing remotely related to what had happened that day transpired. Through those uneventful years I graduated from Guelph University with a Masters in the field of Meteorical Archaeology, and a Bachelors in Biology, quite an accomplishment, in my mind. I guess that incident when I was nine must’ve had an impression on me.
The next part of my life takes place while working for the university. While I had still been in the university I had been offered a dig at the run-down little town of Odessa, Texas. It involved a craterlet that the Texas Aeronautics and Space Agency had overlooked and had believed it to be part of a larger meteorite that crashed hundreds of years ago. At first, something clicked in my brain about its significance, but I didn’t know what. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity, not just because of the money but because there’s some adventure and travel in that whole aspect.
When I got down there, the first thing I did was to book myself a hotel room at the Rio Calitoro. Cheap government. The one I was in wasn’t exactly up to my best standards: cockroaches and mice, not to mention the unsanitary patrons of the place. But that wasn’t the most notable thing about going there.
The day after, when I went to check in with the team, I met someone there. I didn’t recognise her, physically. In a weird way, almost like tuition, I knew there was a link between us. Now, I’m not talking about love at first sight, but it might have been that too. There was no doubt in my mind she was beautiful. When I went up to her, after introducing myself to someone else, the moment she saw me I knew she could sense the same connection as me. After chatting briefly for a few minutes and finding out her name was Adrianna, we went our separate ways into the site.
The site itself was immense; I don’t know how those people at the TASA could’ve missed it, what with their satellites and everything. It was just over a mile wide and close to the same length. It wasn’t all that deep, only three quarters of a mile.
As I began to sift through the first of the hundreds of layers of the sand, I happened to glance over and saw Adrianna looking back at me. Foolishly I dropped my brush and bent down to regain its grip. When I looked back up, she was once again busy.
Five feverishly fun hours later I was in my hotel-room. I had finished that days work and was cleaning up. Just as I was about to get ready for a shower, I heard a knock on the door.
“Coming!” I quickly replied.
As I opened the door, I thought about how I should’ve just remained silent and let her pass. It was Adrianna, and she looked like she had some important news.
“Turn on the news, quick!”
I did so and what met my eyes shocked me. Images of millions of dead people lining the streets and in hospitals, in schools and in office buildings. All of them were rotting already, but they had died probably only minutes before. The newscaster’s voice droned on.
“What we are seeing here is worse than all the diseases mankind has ever dealt with, ever imagined. A fast-acting lethal virus we believe that was carried on a meteorite is now spreading worldwide. One hour and twenty minutes ago that meteorite impacted directly in Hiroshima, Japan, ironically acting almost as powerful as the Atomic Bomb which destroyed it many years ago. Now, it seems as if this meteorite was almost intentionally sent to hit Hiroshima because of its significance and such a direct hit. Oh, we’ve just received word that France and Europe are now feeling this spreading hand of death. Oh, the world’s ending, it’s over! IT’S-“
And with that the reporter was cut off; it seemed she couldn’t take it anymore.
“You’re from Guelph, the place where the first meteorite hit. This is taking a leap, but were you the one who found it?”
“Hey! How’d you know I’m from Guelph, but, yeah! I was; I never told anyone.”
“You can learn a lot from the Internet. I think the key for the cure is in the stones. Unfortunately, mine was lost a long time ago, in a house fire. My parents were… Anyway, I had to find the owner of the other stone. I knew it was you! Together we can give this stone to everyone, help everyone! I think the stones are the same, yours must’ve been absorbed into your skin. That’s what the cure must be!”
She had a good point, but there were many things left out. Why were two stones sent? Who had sent the first stones, and the last poisonous stone? I still had to retrieve the stone from where it sat at the bottom of a creek.
“We have to go to Ontario.”
“What?” She timidly replied.
“The stone, it’s in a creek where I threw it a long time ago. We have to leave quickly to recover it and use it accordingly.”

With that, we both just up and left. An hour later we were 20,000 feet in the air, cruising along, the only two passengers minus the pilot and a rabbi. I guess they thought the world was ending, the pilots, to not care about anything and go on living. I respected that and even thought they were courageous.
When we got there, in the small Guelph Airport, I thought of how many more lives would be lost in the plane-ride here. I shuddered, but Adrianna didn’t notice. We hailed a taxi, kind of. There was an empty one running that had been left in an alleyway. On the ride there, we were both dead silent. The weight of the world rested on our shoulders.
When we got to my old house, we found everything was in abundance, except for the house. The water was fresh, the trees and bushes lush. I walked over to edge of the water and gazed down. The water had a bluish hue to it and in one part was glowing faintly, which brought back memories. I took off my shirt and shoes and dived in. The water wasn’t cold, but soothing. The creek wasn’t very deep, and once I found the stone I brought it back up to the surface. The first thing I did was giving some of its energy to Adrianna, accidentally, as she was looking at it. Without a word, she slipped it into her pocket and we drove back to town.
The first person we saw who was sick was at the hospital and we healed him; the sickness had reached the Western World. With the sickness acting in less than an hour, I had little if no hope for the world. The gentleman was happy, I don’t know what for; nothing was left. I looked at Adrianna and she gazed deep into my eyes. We both knew the fate that would befall mankind forever.
We would become extinct.
We both decided uncommunicatively what would become, what should become of the stone. With no hope left, Adrianna hurled herself and the stone over the sidewalk and down past the jagged cliffs into the ocean. I cried out, but I knew it would happen.
I travelled back to my old house, found some paper and a pen, went to a rock beside my creek, and started writing. Now, I am finished writing. My story has been told. But who is left to read it? The only man alive besides myself now is that gentleman we should’ve left. He was so close to the Truth, to treasures unimaginable. But instead he will suffer, alone, just like me.

–please read to the end, the story comes together fluently at its end–

(ghost speaking)
An empty shell, of what once was, is all that can contain me now. Here in this dark and dingy palace of the dead I am overcome with the emotions of a gutted mind, haphazardly piled onto one another, cancelling out everything. To talk about what brought me here or to what I am experiencing right now is unlikely, unimportant. To say what got me here would be the speech of the dead, which fits perfectly. Nothing will ever replace my previous being, mentally, but especially physically. Right now it’s rotting away in some crowded wooden box with diseases and cockroaches, a feast of disgusting proportions. A wandering, aimless spirit is all I am… for now.

(human speaking)
Less than a year to live, how can I fit everything into that? What makes it so acceptable to have some doctor tell you your chances of never having to breathe fresh mountain air, to gently kiss the supple red lips of a girl, to feel the warm sand between your toes; to never again have any life left in you to do all of this? After my life ends, who will do what I was supposed to do, what my destiny had planned for me? Already my life is dead to me; my family, their condolences bringing forth only grim reactions and sadder thoughts. When will Death come for me, bring me from this pit of despised hell? I can only hope now for some sweet elixir of life, or for a swift deliverance.
Night after night I’ve gone out and partied with everyone in the world, trying to escape the inevitable. I’ll know soon if I’ve succeeded. Nothing will help my fearful and apprehensive mind save what is causing me to worry.

(ghost)
The only chance for redemption, the sweet kiss of possibility that seemed so close to me right then. Reaching out I could grasp it in my clutches of unjust suffering with the thickly scented essence of closely attainable difficulty. The time was immediate so I acted. Without so much as a wisp of regret I swooped down and into the vessel that would lead me out of my current restraints. The weakened subject’s defences were minimised so I easily overrode them. His state of mind was such that he was inviting an entity of the likeness of myself in. His acceptance shone through warmly to the coldest of manifestations that life had thrown at him. All of this was for me; the grandeur of his welcoming nearly knocked my presence right out of him. But I was leeched onto him now, and forever, becoming more and more a part of him. Each second that went by would bind the two of us closer and closer until we became one, until I became the one.

(Human)
The answer, it seemed, lay within myself. Perhaps my body’s reaction to the shock of having to let go so soon had reproachfully abated my sorrow and created solace in knowing that I would have company in the end. This company might just have been myself, but it still made me feel better in knowing that I could talk to it, and it would have a concise answer that I didn’t know, and would have to listen to find out more. It was friendly, helpful; but I couldn’t help but feel it was exaggeratedly and almost aggressively benevolent; its true feelings hidden, a secret agenda of selfish desires. But what more could I ask for at a time like this? Never before had I experienced such companionship, such loyalty. My human soul mate had neglected to call me up so I was stuck with this new toy.

(ghost)
The bonding was always happening; unconsciously he was bound unto me, wrapped into a mangled shape that fit the mould of my liking. He never saw me for what I was, always thinking about the positive, when the negative was filling every gap in his life. He would melt into nothingness, wisps of an imagination that are written in stories of fantasy. Eventually even I will gradually forget him; his life will become mine; his experiences will never have been his, but mine. All that will be left of him will be the reverie that fills my mind and my pen on parchment. I may later question even the existence of his mind, unsure of the assumptions that I place on my seemingly borrowed life. But that will be a great time from now. I must completely take over his mind and soul; nothing is sure until the moment when I become him. With his current thinking, that may be soon.

(human)
I couldn’t tell anyone about it. That would just make me seem crazy, emphatically trying to prepare myself at all costs for the journey that so few knew about. I couldn’t give it up now; not when I’d found a wondrous joy that would leave me feeling so depleted if it was eradicated from my life. It didn’t matter how it found its way in, or how I let it in or created it, I wasn’t prejudice. This pronounced desire in my head had most undoubtedly spawned its existence, and therefor it was personally bound to me, not mine to share at will with whoever might or might not believe. If it wanted me to tell them, I would. But until that happens, it’s all one big secret that I’m in on alone.

(ghost)
I’m really getting sick of this degraded little reject, his sappy explanations about life and its curves. Sure I may have sounded a small amount in certain ways like him, but that was moments before my death. What does he have to complain about? In our luxurious talks he hasn’t told me about anything. If you ask me his life is pretty good right about now. None the matter; once he loses his mind, I will reoccupy the wasted space with myself. I have only to endure in a seemingly righteous presence for a devout wait of a few months, and then I will have no need to conceal my clouded contrivance.

(human)
With death nearing, I prepare as best I can with the actions that I believe are most helpful, most rewarding. The wisdom I pick up may not be around for much longer, nor the chance to grab it. My depressive self has seen convoluted images filled with rage and despair; I do not want to become that. When I die I would like to be at peace with the world, in nature where animals are taking advantage of the warm summer day. These thoughts are so pleasant, that must mean that death, or what comes after, must be pleasant. It must also mean that death is near. Acceptance is the final step towards dying. I will have dissipated into an unrecognisable fusion of legacy and opinion. But I wonder what will happen to my friend, the one inside my head? He will probably just disappear, away with me out of this material world. The best of luck to him, as he nears the destination of his journey. He’s been a great help to me.

(ghost)
What do I care as long as he leaves? I do not know why he is depressed; I only sensed his mourning and like a vulture went in for the kill. It cannot matter terribly, just so long as his current self will become a nimble outline of what once was, so that I may replenish what is left. Ah, the plans that I wish to carry out once I am alone again, in my own body; well, soon to be my own body, and the things that I will do. Incredibly simple things that bring so much peace and comfort into everyday reasoning and being. Alas, some of this human’s humble reactions and feelings are rubbing off on me. I will always be a self-centred energy sap who takes life by vigorous storm. Just a few more weeks, maybe, and I’ll be free to enjoy it. There won’t be any lingering residue of guilt to affect my happiness.
But then I don’t want this to ruin my newly found exultation. I will tell him, and that will make this arrangement all the sweeter. I have no sympathy for him or his family; the friend I have been is now his oppressor. He doesn’t have much time left before his mind goes leaving me in charge. This is the first time since I was alive that I’ve actually felt alive again. The charge of excitement in the depreciation of human emotion; it tickles my senses once again. I’m new at this, it being the first body I’ve taken over, but it shouldn’t be too hard. Once this body dies of natural old age many years from now I’ll assail the possession of another. Amiable talks at first; I’ll see how long I can stay in them with their knowledge that I will take over their lives entirely, soon. Make them suffer and then not matter at all, their minds nothing more than an erased scribble of pencil.

(human)
The betrayal that reeks in me could never have been foreseen by the oldest of books. The essence of that thing that once I shared amicable debates with has decided now that it was all a façade, all of it false. My security now is only in the pertinent knowledge that I currently hold and that it will never, until the last moment, discover and forever more repent. Even the most humble of holy men could not redeem this wretched and pathetic leech. I can never see my dying self forgive him, it. My cold revenge, my bittersweet victory that will not unravel until the moment my unfaithful friend I thought had helped me prepare for. He thinks that he has won, won a prize of prolonged life, more than what nature would allow. He may think that, but when the time comes that I die, I leave this body not just in mind, then he will be bound to me. He will not be allowed to torture another and steal their body, I will make sure of that. The time is near to act and when I do, this being that fraudulently gained my trust will pay the ultimate price.

(ghost)
This enervating human has been acting strangely, though what really would I know about it? He has been keeping me from something, that, I am sure of. Again, though, that doesn’t matter. I know that I will receive the last laugh. Just hours away from pure freedom, and I will rule it for the rest of my second life. I caught this depressed one at an ample age, where I will be able to govern the future choices for many years. Where will he end up? Like me, he could end up not wanting to leave this earth, risk being judged by the supreme finality of death. His soul would wander aimlessly for centuries, maybe. Or, his soul could be weak enough to be whisked away into Heaven or Hell, and justly serve whatever term is appropriate. Then again he could just be discarded dejectedly into his old brain matter, forgotten by all but himself. His old acquaintances I would make sure to forget about, and thus gently by them be forgotten. Just so long as he is gone, and I am left.
His mind, I think, is leaving now. This is so new to me, I don’t know what is right anymore; I never did. His body is weak, vulnerable. Physically all aspects of him are slowing down. It must just be the original mind leaving and mine staying, that must be all. I wish I knew; I wish I could see through and into him, not just exist though him anymore. In mere moments I will know, in mere moments I will be alone once again and I will begin my next great journey through life. He is still guarding a secret; I hope that won’t be the undoing of me.

(human)
In seconds I will die; move on; perish. These feelings are rushing forth; I am unprepared, I was focusing only on the demise of my predator. And now, I am not ready. So instead, I must focus solely on completing the last thing that I will ever physically do. I am focusing on what that entity was doing all along. He has bonded with me, my body, now I will hold on to him, bringing him down with me. He does not know for certain yet, but he is beginning to suspect. He will not let go; this I know because of what he has worked so hard to accomplish and, besides, his suspicions to himself are unfounded and unsure. Seconds more and I will depart. I need now only to hold on, hold on.

(ghost)
“What punishment is this! The body I have invaded is dying! It is filth! That is the terrible secret you have held from me and now I am dearly paying. I am dying twice, but it cannot be! How young you were, how much time I should’ve had! Never! I have to let go; at least I will be able to find another.
(human)
“You will not; you so permanently etched your essence into me, you will pay with what I am paying. Judgement is upon us. You will never again harm anyone else; for your horrid deeds you will be made to pay like everyone, justly. I, too, will be judged, for that is what each man is deserved of.”
(ghost)
“You speak corruption! You know not the truth! I will rip myself from you! I will be free! You cannot and will not take me with you!”
(human)
“But I am. Now, we must go, are you ready?”

When I firs met you at the Plaza Inn
You took my hand and gave me a second win
When I’m with you I feel so free
Although our love should never be
I never thought we’d met so soon
You make my eyes a black full moon
My body’s numb, my hands are weak
Now you love I wish to seek
I’m coming down off you flight
Don’t let go hang on tight
I feel so guilty and don’t know why
Before I met you, I’d never try
You make me happy so why be sneaky
Your energy makes me uncontrollabley freaky
I hear you come why must you go
Til’ I see you again I’ll sit here and rock to and fro..
Why are you leaving please come back
Okay superman lets make a pack
I’ll see you every weekend you come around
Shh…be quite what was that sound
I’m not going to look for you so come to me
But if i have to I will but keep in mind you’re not exactly free
Bye bye for now I’ll see you tomorrow
Please set free all that pain and sorrow….

Dedicated to “Crystal”

He may be an ass most of the time,
but I do wish that boy was mine.
I would give him anything if he was my man,
His body, his eyes, his ways…damn!
He may have feelings for another girl,
If he was mine i’d give his world a twirl.
I can tell him anything and he won’t judge,
He may have his sexy ways, I will not budge.
Everytime I see him I want him more,
And his dick fits perfect, leaving no sore.
I want him so bad although he makes me mad,
I’d grant all his fantesies and all wishes,
Get his dick throbbing with my soft kisses.
I’ll leave him hard and keep him wishing,
Just untill he realizes what he’s missing.
Although, I may sound like a teaser,
What I want is to be his only pleaser.

I’m not afraid of leaving at night
I just hate the coldness of fright.
I’m not afraid of lying
I’m just afraid of dying.

I’m not afraid of being sick
I’m more afraid of being well.
I’m not afraid with the gun in my hand
I’m just afraid it will hurt like hell.

I’m not afraid of looking ugly
I don’t care what they say.
I’m not afraid of happy endings
I’m just afraid my life won’t end that way.

Without you, my life is an endless void
No laughter just silence with deep noise.
Without you, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Without you, I know you will do, too.

this is a poem my finace wrote, i thought i’d put it on here.

Have you ever had one of those day when you just wanted to die. Not so much as going off and killing yourself but you just wish someone would come and kill you. Well those days come everyday for me and atleast once a week seriously think about killing myself. I don’t cut myself because I figure if you want to be dead why flirt with the idea of the extent of having the knife right there and have people worry about you because they see the scars why not just go ahead and do it. If I could find a way to commit suicide and get away with it without being caught in the middle or it not working out and just end up in a place where I don’t want to be I would go ahead and do it. I don’t see way everyone is so scared of death and dieing. It ends the suffering and the pain. Yes a happy day might come once in awhile but what about waiting between those days, months, or years. Then you know that the happiness will go away again and the depression and darkness will take over once more.

There´s a thought that always come to my mind when I tell my girlfriend that I love her. I think about the future, the people and the feelings. I´m so afraid that we all become just egocentric machines with a mechanical love. I think it probably won´t happen… but people are getting so cold and distant from each other. The greatest value and the greatest institution of the world used to be the family, and now, it´s the work. People have stopped caring about each other, they´ve stopped taking care of each other, they´ve become selfish – I think that happens a lot because of the Capitalist system that brings ambition and perfectionism, and I think it´s normal to have it. The violence, the misery, the racism, the discrimination… all of those horrible things have become normal, it´s a part of everyone´s life. The problem is that the society forgets that those who have been forsaken are also human beings, and they have the same value that anyone in the world. The society forgets it because it´s not important anymore. The own will, the own desire, the own needs of each person always come first. In such an egocentric small world of their own, people forget to love. They don´t even have time for it. Love has become a secondary thought. And that´s not the way it should be.

Robots programmed to say “I love you” to the other robot – that was programmed to date the first one. You ask one of them why they say “I love you” to each other and he answers: “That´s what a boyfriend should say to his girlfriend.” You ask him why they´re dating and he answers: “Because she is pretty and she makes me laugh and she goes to bed with me and she kisses me and she is always there for me.”. We may not be robbots but it´s exactly what happens.
“I love you” has being told to boyfriends and girlfriends… and not to the person we love. People can´t realise how important and precious those words are, they simply don´t feel anymore, is an automatic thing.
People kiss each other because they like kissing, they date because they wanna have a boyfriend, they want someone to be there for them all the time, and not because they love someone.
Love is becoming what sex becomed: pure personal satisfaction. Sex and kissing may be about having fun and sometimes it´s good that way, the problem is that people are doing it with coldness for self-pleasure.

I think not having anyone to love is sad… as well as not being loved by anyone…
But more than that, i´m deadly afraid of not being able to feel.

(Sorry again for my terrible english… be patient with brazilian girls)

I’m working.
It’s 10:40pm.
I’ve been ‘working’ since 9:20am this morning.
I went home around 6:00pm. Thought I’d get some done there. Little did I know…
All I really wanted was a little bit of chemical stress relief. Today, as has been for about 3 days, was alcohol. Noticed I couldn’t get anything done there, so I came back. After finishing the bottle. Turned Live up full. Well, ‘full’ being before distortion. Then Marilyn. A few days I gave up. Again. Hope. Desire. The search for meaning or motivation. Alone, the warm fluid spreading, unchecked, across my lonely stomach, fantasizing of no more than Her sweet embrace. Darkness enveloping me. Succumbing to the promise of ultimate numb. With no tears. No regret. Only her. The Goddess whose single symbol is the Moon. Invisible in her full glory. My True Mother. My only Protector. I now sit, almost guilty at not being able to get anything done. Knowing only that there is only one reality that will truly free me from this that I am. This that I hate. A reality that is scorned, frowned upon, and judged in ignorance. A reality labeled as “gothic.” The term “labeled” seemingly loathed as much buy those who assume it as those who judge the label. If I had the balls to take my own life I would have done so long ago. But, alas, here I sit. In the one place I’ve found in my meager 26 years that has ever felt like ”coming home.”
Judge me, for you are human.
Love me, for I speak MY truth.
Hate me, for the truth hurts.

“We are all wicked gods. With little g’s. and big dick’s.”
- mm. portrait. MY monkey.

The blood there, was just so much of it. I loved it so much. Just the sight of blood. It excites me to see blood. How it can flow or even drip very slowly from someones body. Thats how I kill. Very slowly so theres so much pain, strugling, and sceaming. My latest victum died slower then the rest. I’ll get a new victum every month. I’m out right now looking for my next victum. I think I have the perfect man lined up right now. We talk then I say lets go to my place. i have a 17 room mansion on a hill side far from civilization. He thinks a wonderful place. wait untill he see the basement. I come up behind him with a pan. He turns and I barly have time to hide it behind me. My dog barks from the back yard and it scares him. He turn his head and thats when i strike. He’s knocked out and i drag him down the stairs to the basement. When he does come to he notices he is tied to the table I have in the basement.
I walk over with a tray in my hands and set it down on a stool by the table. I stick a finger right in his skin and pull out a few ribs. I hear then break and him start to scream beging me to stop, but I dont I press on. Next I take a knife and cut his arm. I look down and see that I have carved his name into his arm. On the other I do a rose. I start with the rose at his shoulder and draw a vine going down his arm. The blood is flowing of the table like a river and with every cut I give him he screams louder. I want to listen to misic while I do this. I walk over and turn on the stareo. The song “STUPID GIRL” by COLD starts to play. I put it on repeat. The words wrap around me like a blanket.
Wanna love ya, wanna fuck ya
wanna squeze ya, stupid girl
I start to sing while my victum whimpers. I consider all my victums my baloved.
Wanna touch ya, wanna take ya wanna shut ya, stupid girl
As I sing I dance around the room with joy.
I can’t take this,born to breack this
It’s goin away, what’s wrong with,my life today, It’s goin away, what wrong with, my life today
Stupid girl,stupid girl
I’m a loner,I’m a loser,I’m a winner in my mind
I’m a bad one,I’m a good one, I’m a sick one with a smile
I cant take this,Born to break this
It’s goin away, waht wrong with, my life today, Stupid girl stupid girl, stupid girl, Stupid girl
As I stop singing the music goes on repeating the song. I walk over to him and continue what I started slowly pilling away his skin. I take the broken bones out of his body. Each time his screams getting lower and lower till there was no sound or movement from him at all. I put his body in a bag and go to the vault door in my masement. I open the lock an throw his body in. I’ll wait for another night to bary it. I shut and look the door and go up stair to go to sleep.
I awake to a whinning sound. I go down the stair to the front foyer and see the only victum to get away from me. He carrys an axe with him. He was the only to get away because i was careless. He was my first. My love. We had been engaged and went to see a movie. The blood and guts kind. I had fallin in love with it and from there it had started. I don’t know why I had started with him I just had. He had been a lot stornger then me but after the movie I had gottin stronger. I can’t exsplain it, but like I said I had been careless. I hadn’t tied the rope tight enough and he had whiggled out and knocked me out. When I awake he was gone. I had forgotten him hoping no one would listen to him.
The police most likely didn’t listen to him or thought he did this to himself. He comes at me and I duck the swing. I run into my spoting room and grab my gun. I turn, but he made it to me first. The axe lands right in my heart. I drop to the floor and cough up blood. He walks over and whispers in my ear “How does it fell?” More blood comes out of my mouth. He bends down and kisses me. He must have still loved me. I say to him “My beloved.” I drop to the floor and die right there.

There is a darkness
Within us all.
A darkside that we can release.
Unlike the side we show,
Mercy it does not much know.
The urge to set the darkness free
Is strong for many, including you and me.
It overwhelms our goodside,
Taunting it of its megar power,
And bragging of the awesome might
It has to overcome the light.
The darkness woes our goodness with
Much power, strenght, and might
That sometimes it is too much to bear.
Our goodside succumbs to it
Unleashing out into the world
A creature that craves fear and desturction
Not of its own, but of others,
So that who or what crosses its path
May also be overcome by the darkness.

It doesn’t rhyme but oh well. My summer sux mad monkey ballz so I have nothing else to do but write and do nothing.

I want to fuckin kill you
To rip your heart out and
Throw it in your face
I want to see you covered in blood
From your head down your legs
Every inch is pain which there’s no escape
I hate living and now you will too
Your pleading me to stop this torture
But I’m so sorry, I can’t.
You deserve to die for what you’ve done to me
Look at me! You created me.
The creation kills the creator,
Isn’t that how it goes?
This is for a world of suffering
This is for all the torment you’ve caused me
Watch me now as I slit your throat
Feel the unbearable pain circulate through you
Now you know how it feels,
Now you know what it’s like being dead.