| Words used to be fun and now they are a prison for thoughts I can not say. There is no boundary between what I think and what I despise. I am surrounded. No help will come. Everyone is blissfully girt by their own nightmares. I wish I could ignore the nightmares. If you think that’s creepy, you’ve never lived. There is a calling, it is pale and weak and does not listen to me. It sneers and mocks me and it might be a disguise. I can never tell, and I will probably never tell. I wish I could tell good from evil, but no apples I ate helped. My dentist explicitly forbade me from eating apples so now I am appleless and unable to tell right from wrong. I wish words meant something. But they don’t. I don’t even know why I’m trying. I am writing all the time but it is all vain and futile. It is like I think I am better than others and the worst at the same time. I could never kill a person, but I really wish I could. I wake up every morning next to a lady, skinned and smiling. She bares her teeth because she can not cover them. I forgot to mention I also sleep next to her. I avoid mirrors because I am afraid to see my own face skinned. There are pieces of meat all over the ceiling. I live in an abattoir. Which is why I never smile. Lady doesn’t speak, she thinks into my head. I know nothing about her but everything about me. She tells me. She does not withhold. I have been dancing with the lights on. I am terrified to turn them off because the meat might move. So I am dancing. I do not want to hurt the visitors and I haven’t slept for days. I wish I could just… I wish. She whispers into my ear, not by sound, by invasion, she calls. She entices. She tells me hell is here and it can not get worse. So i get up and dance again. To jolly no-brain music that makes me shake my ass. Have you ever driven demons out by shaking your ass? The woman wants to make love to me. Or so she says. She is always there. She never scolds me for leaving. She is an angel. In a horrible, terrible disguise. I still can’t tell right from wrong. When I get tired, I lie down and stare into her eyes. I find it strangely comforting and I prefer it to having her behind my back, grinning. She might be lying. She might be me. I get home from work, being careful to turn on the lights instantly. My hand creeps into the ajar door, terrified of touching something other than the switch. I know the meat is there, I just do not want to see it. She is there. She has been waiting for me all day. Unlike others. I wish I had a cat. But cats deserve better. I have slept before. But she follows me. She is kind and accommodating. We made love falling into the abyss. We fell and fell and it felt as though we flew. |
| 21/06/2026 |