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Later on, the same digression.  Returned to the same physical location on the second, sort of a repeat of an action committed the day before but actually started the day before that.  A curious find and once more brought back to so so long ago.  I believe this time there was a long white box – the type which may hold an assortment of sports cards – but this can’t be right, can it?  And where did that go? 

Ah, I see now.  Was I even mentioning this last time?  of course right after the discovery of lines and ridges.  Everything so glorious and commanding and awful.  We cannot forget that there is nothing more awful than me. fuck I’m just so fucking awful.  I fucking hate myself so much.  Vile individual.  Gotta just eat the gun, pull the trigger and blammo instant scrambled brains all over the walls of my posh flat.  What’s happening to me?  is paranoia present at all?  I have no idea about anything.  Something is inside my head, crawling around in there, can barley think straight.  Did I mention replacement at any point.  Of course right afterward, like I said, the lines, the ridges, another reality opening up, replete with laughter and mockery.  Gingerly tied and flat and then pressure and strangulation and laughter, strangulation from the floor contact points.  So perfect.  And affection through the thin .

Everything is empty.  And everything comes from me.  that is a very unfortunate realization.  But a needed one and so very honest. 

I’m dancing in front of the opening curtains now.  It is a very freeing feeling. Though I suspect that piece of broken glass will be used on my wrists and not anything else.  That’s the reason I don’t own metal.  Too scared that I’d use it on myself.  Of course that would be the only proper thing to do. 

How odd to be using one addiction to subjugate another.  And yet how richly appropriate.  He was going crazy earlier.  What a pedestrian phrase but it’s the only one that fits.  Couldn’t think of anything else.  Around my face and arms and legs and everything was too perfect but this was the source of all the problems.  No, of course the source was me. it always comes back to me.  I am an ugly evil disgusting thing.  And everything is me. 

Jumping around in the narrative again but its all related.  Is there love in the strangest of places.  Traversing upwards.  No, think more carefully, what a stupid thing to say.  Need to get this off my chest.  Lot of bad writing tonight.  But need to say this all because it is there and so controlling. So many from so many different places.  Produce.  Self checkout.  And then please one last great one from somewhere else.  Need the strength. To murder the awful evil side. 

There is a repetition taking place.  After the departure other swooped to take the place. There was bountiful beauty.  But sentimentality is hard to break.  This is so obvious. 

But here, now. Somehow seems less profound but really is not.  But I know why it seems less profound and that is due to the relative time investment.  You see, it has been so difficult.  The acquisition of knowledge.  Early on, working.   But only once.  Nothing similar.  So sheepish at the very beginning. I can no longer recall how the initial realization even came about.,  one of my many seeds of corruption. Does it really matter how?  That is the interesting thing.  The external origins are not important, only the ugliness that comes from inside.  The external does not determine anything.  But the internal is what dictates and manifests as something vile and repulsive.  Should have blown my fucking brains out a long time ago.  No one would even really care.  All over in a month or so in terms of mourning and questioning. Should have left bits of brain and fragments of skull and much blood all over the walls of my posh flat long ago. 

Ah, but memories….  Whatever.  Was the first encounter yellow?  This has all come and gone.  Multiple identities.  Was the first encounter soft yellow. In the end everything was more beautiful than has ever been imagined.  The throaty laughter.  This was everything.  Reverse and forward. Boiling heat.  Multiple names. Again I should have asked the commerce related question.  No, I am wrong and terrible and all at once nothing makes sense due to my disruption.  I am drinking again and this is a good thing.  Always the question hung in the air. And there it shall remain until we all are rotting.

Odd thought just occurred to me wondering why there are only two of us.  And for the times when two does not suffice I have to wonder why that was set into motion.  Mayhaps it seems I am having something of a crisis.  Oh well, it doesn’t really matter.  Nothing matter. 

So many little boxes.  And boxes in boxes.  And the tentacles.  Wrapping around everything.  I could not see straight but I was not deceived.  I hate myself.

But wait, I am doing a disservice to a great service and one integral to his self destruction.  See when the heart is pumping so fast and dancing so alive with the thrill of sin.  You are putrid and vile.  So many different colors and a question regarding preference.   And then the flattery of years.  Do you know what this word means?  Wait, that doesn’t make sense right now. Is it numbers or taste or something else.  I’ve had too much booze to know.  So important and yet taken for granted.  Try to recover.  Ah, but recovery is such a self serving mechanism.  All you really mean is the benefits for you.  How predictable and disgusting.  There were tiny little boots and this was grand.  Everything was so strong and sturdy and this was how it should be and it all disappeared one day and I will likely never know why.