2:26 am March 1, 2015

"Dear Jesus,
I don't know what to do... I mean I have been at this for so long. There would be risen many truths that bring out the realities; many hurts that would chisel and chisel away. First of all, there is precaution. And when that doesn't work, there is caution... For so many other cases out there, there is the danger; the danger that would probably cause death or serious injuries.
--currently, I don't know if it's the wine or the hangover from some three episodes of Criminal Minds S10. But I believe it comes from everything... The past two years, I claimed (as told to my friend just how many minutes ago) to be, by far the best and the very worst of times.

Who does this ----- who blatantly embraces in such this way ----- by far, none. How do you cry? How does the wailing finally come? For how rare is it to happen; how does it come in season? Every seven years, I had observed it to be. Today, I had put feet & eyes to forgiving; yesterday, I laughed almost my heart out; and the other day, I had simply shed a tear or a little more.

What is this darkness, you ask? The darkness that we see; the darkness that befalls us; the darkness so tainted and stained; the blood that spilled on to hundreds and thousands of years, all clearly from a darkness within...

And when you think it could not possibly get ever worse, it does: Darkness grows darker, darkness will linger, darkness knows no bounds but the ones it is given; darkness sifts, darkness hides; darkness, it knows not to rest.

The darkness gets darker and darker and darker, whether your own of from places people can't call "home" anymore. As if it could end there with a shot, with a rope, with a push, with a try, a thousand mg more, or a track and its roar.

It likes to sit there and stay, as it plans, for all the ages. When it will not linger, it will leave; leave to come again, yes, with seven more leagues ahoy. It will pierce, it will marinate; it will live to deplete, to destroy, and to just "chill".

What can I say




















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Death said, there's no where else to go...

You do not know and you do not have any idea.
Life's like that?
You always thought it was beautiful that way: LEAVE THEM LEAVE THEM TO BE ! ! ! ! ! ! TO BE WHAT ! ! ? ? ! ! !
When it's been done OVER & OVER & OVER & OVER again. This time I just saw it full blown, with my very own eyes. You think you know? Think again.

Now, I know, I understand. Crazy, the brain, the soul, the people, the circumstances & the underworld. Understand. And when all else is done, they will stand for me. Because death has called me.....
It's more than just about the enemy & "IT'S A PROBLEM OF THE HEART!"
No, it is more




















It is more than that. There is no more, such a thing as the, heart. There is no more breath; no more real; no more genuine but fake: there has not been any existence of love at all.
And that goes for all.
Because there is no more such thing,
There is no more living.

It is called: DESTRUCTION.

We are no such thing. Every little thing hangs on before or after HIM.

Death calls to HIM, calls to me.
Death can win in all he claims to be.
So then she sees and breeds, the win,
The spoils, in all he claims from me.
Because you said it's easy.

Nobody asked for it.
But HE made it to be.

WHY? Is what we will never know or see
Because that is the point of Creator and creation.

There is a hierarchy.
An absolute unreachable possibility.

HE lives HE moves but why does HE?
HE lives HE loves under whose liberty?

It won't, it can't, it wasn't made to be
To make, full sense?
That's why HE's over me.

The brain, the soul, lost in captivity.
The eyes, the world, has died, with all to see

Your world? Which world?
he brought the end of me
she saw all there was to be
HE did HE knew HE saw profanity.

What else, is there? But a new great King to be...

You lost your soul along with sanity.
What beauty?
What life?
And -reation- Creation we're meant to be?

You lost you lose gone down like history.

Become vile as you are; be dead then, as death just so wishes to be.
Dead, no breath, dead, like coal; best to burn, easy to crush, you see...

And then when burned, when crushed, when chopped to dust you'll be;
You'll know, you'll see, just what you are, compared, compared to eternity.

You're dust you'll blow
with the wind or with the seas

One click?

As you were dead, you, slowly and surely, die even more~

Illusion-ed. Delusional. You lose; no choice
because death is the only reality.

Disenchanted. Disabused.
A magnifying delusional disorder.

You have no fucking idea."




















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