I'm Married to the Sea

nothingendsnothingbegins

This is a very special one to me. Thought I would share with my readers a little of what made me the writer I am today. This one is straight from my Muse...

alterior motives
Current mood: anxious
Cool and slow on the outside of this rotting shell you see. Inside seething with death,torment and what you humans call hell.
Theres a beautiful storm coming and its eye is in the great black hole where i once believed i had a soul. No longer here no longer there,caught in the broad understanding of the two opposing forces wound together and spinning so fast that they have meshed together like the dead with the cosmos.
Indifference. No riddles here all too blatent yet so much grey that returns to black and grows like vines up around my throat,not yet tight enough to kill me but growing tighter everyday. If I were a sign it would read REAP IT!
Thier beautiful tongues lash out and slit my wrists and then slither back only to wrap around their own throats.I watched as she masterbated in the glow of the million year blast within me She used the serpent that emerged from her throat to make herself cum so gracefull it made me wanna cut my own throat and be lost in it forever.
The shimmer off of the serpents scales reflected images of her being made a victim as a child,being so pretty must have been rough when it couldnt even buy the ones who were supposed to protect and raise you. I can see her playing in the dandelions that have now grown teeth and reach out from her subconcious killing grounds to chew out the hearts of those that get too close.
I understand all too well.
The serpents of you have writhed theyre way out of me to envenom everyone as well. I try not to speak to much in fear of catching attention. Im covered and strangled in blackness, the presence of all too much with nothing left to give.
I see through to the broken places and too much more.
I watch as they vomit antimatter Synthetic love and plastic compassion.
Excuse me while i burn myself with this cigarette for a change of sensory.
Nightly lullabyes from the dead I cant bring back. Too far gone theres a hole in the ground for me somewhere. It seems harder to give a fuck with each passing day. All these maggots writhing over each other to feed off of the dying and point there fingers.
Persecute and feed make your winged parents proud. Be afraid of the dark, young larvea for it grows within us dying, and as sure as it will consume you. There will be a moment of clarity that will reveal you to yourself to be nothing more than a fleck of blackness in the eye of the high ones from the place where nothingendsandnothing begins.

Read more at: http://www.myspace.com/bigdaddybloodgod/blog


He was my spiritual mentor and my soul traveling guide. He taught me that time and space and all else that humans call reality Ultimately do not exist. He taught me that there is another plane that exists parallel to the tangible one on which we live. It is on this plane that our souls transcend time and distance and circumstance and are eternally tangled with one another. This is the realm of spirit and memory. The realm of pure love.

jedi supernova necrophile

I am on the path to finding a comfortable position nestled between science and spirituality. But isnt that the Ultimate search of mans heart? To marry what he can see to what he can feel. I have so many vague fetus beliefs that I am still nurturing with research and contemplation. One day, when I have found myself, I will write about my journey. That will be my best seller.
I have concluded very few things to the point of difinity in this life. One of those rarities is this: You have to have something to believe in. In reading "The God Delusion" I have concluded that even athiests are adamant about something. That is turning other ppl into athiests. "Believe what I believe or your wrong, oh and not to mention inferior...." I beg to differ Mr. Dawkins. I personally am playing with the idea that maybe, just maybe Belief and Faith is a per case scenario. Maybe if I believe in Pantheism, then perhaps in my perception of reality, in my dimension of existence, in my heart of hearts, that is the Truth. Some theoretical physicists believe that based on quantum theory that all of reality is dependant on an observer. That its all in our head, literally. A concoction of the mind, if you will. What I believe, thus becomes real and true, simply because I believe it. If I want to worship cheese, and believed with all my heart that the block of swiss in my fridge single handedly governs and orchestrates existence, in MY REALITY it does. See my reasoning?? In a nut shell, I believe ppl should be free to believe whatever they want and that everyone should be tolerant and even open minded of other belief systems. The whole "Live and let live" lifestyle.

"We all walk our own path..."


Speaking of different realms of reality, I just wanted to mention that I believe dreams are an astral projection of ourselves in which our soul experiences a completely different interface than consciousness provides, albeit a dimension of reality nonetheless. Dreams are special, and just because we don’t understand them fully yet doesn’t mean we can write them off as insignificant. To quote my *favorite* author on dreams...

"No one hears you scream if you die in your dreams cause your so far away...if you die in your sleep there’s no one to weep cause you lived through the day..."

I am a writer. I write for the same reason I breathe. Because if I didn’t, I would die. Riddled prose. Sometimes I think I should’ve tired harder to be his savior. Denial is part of it, why did I feel so betrayed? I have walked more than a mile in his shoes. Would I have come clean? I walked out when he needed me most, for fear of falling myself. What a selfish decision to make. But how do you know if your crossing the line when the line is fuzzy and shaking violently?? Could I have saved him while managing not to lose myself?

"I've been sticking myself for way too long...crucifying these memories..."

Your Lost Little Girl

Your lost little girl, tell me who are you??? How elusive is an answer. Feeble attempts to be a mother/daughter/sister/girlfriend/human are insufficient. Typical. Trapped in limbo in the process of evolution. A constant state of becoming. Monotony. Days drag on and mesh together. Live for the moment? Moments become memories far to quickly. Confusion consumes me. The harder I struggle against a foe I cannot even identify, the more I become entangled in the web of my own devices. I am my own worst enemy. But that is not new news. It has always been so. The harder you try, the more it hurts when you fail. Funny, I have been traveling for so long, I can‘t even remember where it was that I was going. When I believe I am making progress, it seems, that is when I am failing miserably. Am I truely that ignorant?? What if everything I believe is real turns out to be fake. Somehow I don’t think it would surprise me much. Am I destined to smother among the plastic flowers.

Facade. Nothing in this life is real. It is an illusionary interface. Every breath that we take is fake. I don’t even know if I am real. This new me that I have worked so hard to create. In reality, I am still a scared, confused little girl.

Breaking Point? What happens when there is nothing left that can console a heart that is so irrevocably jaded? When I can no longer say, "Keep trying, it will get better." What happens when finally, finally I cant find some far off glimmer of hope to hold on to?? What happens when all that is real catches me? Hurt, despair, hate. My shield of optimism is wearing thin. What happens when there is nothing left to hold on to??

Riddled Prose

In a fit of stuffy headed confusion she remembers. A vague moment of clarity taunts and torments her from its lost lonely and forgotten place on the line of time. The farther you get from the light, the darker it becomes. Seems so obvious now. It always does on this side. Sleep is either elusive or overpowering. Always one or the other. Always the extreme. She shudders to think she could ever crave normalcy. Balance just wasn’t in the cards for her she supposes. How far down the rabbit hole can she go? How deep can she dive before.....

Utter madness takes hold.

There is a point called no return and she has kissed and flirted with it for far too long. Perhaps she doesn’t want to crucify her memories. Perhaps they are what remind her that she is alive. She wonders why she would want to remember sometimes anyways. To remember is to be there again I suppose, but the trip back to reality is always a rough one. She leaves a part of her there every time she visits too. How long before the parts are so scattered that the existence of the whole is compromised? How many more pieces does she have left to leave with yesterday?
The point. Such an elusive little bastard, eh? Is it simply the point to just live until we die? Will she live forever in her riddled prose? It's the only brand of eternal life that isn’t poison. She revels in the sheer insanity of it all. It is, after all, all insanity. Even if it appears to make sense, she has found, it is mere happenstance. There is no such thing as sanity, only the illusion of it. We are all on the brink all the time. Every last one of us are standing at the edge of the cliff peering over into the darkness. Some of us stand closer than others, but we are all close enough. A strong enough breeze could push us all over the edge, arms flailing, mouths wide open screaming "Why?" the whole way down. Will we all fall forever?