Bury One, To Birth The Other

Once again, time has been altered... this time due to a fault of my own. The Devil's pills and festered wills... that quelled the din within. There is little doubt that my appearances have once again become scattered and my style somewhat altered... the stage was cleared and I was left alone to swim through the emotions and vibrations of day to day living. Writing had become difficult... almost torturous. I would have to actually sit down and calm myself and focus before I could write even the simplest form of expression. Never before had this been a problem... the blood was backing up in my throat, and the children began to drown. After much thought and several breakdowns, I stopped swallowing the poisonous pill. It has only been but a few days, but already I feel The Choir gaining strength and Richard his resolve. The breakdowns were triggered but all of this overwhelming emotion... new and old ones alike, I'm just not equipped to interpret all of these incoming transmissions. One Station with a magnitude of operators... that's how things have always been. And so they shall be once more. I was terribly lonesome and afraid... with no one left to council or console me in my time of need. When the waters became too high there was no one left to steer the ship. I could never leave center stage and escape into the quiet... the bitter, sweet torments of the quiet. Stillness was removed. Richard had all but grown quiet, but never fully gone... he demonstrated his true will and strength the day of my last breakdown. Filled with rage, he made me realize that you cannot run from who you are... it's always there, waiting. Enter the breakthrough... it's time for a new game. It was then that I realized, truly and fully, the real problem... it's not Richard or The Choir, the problem is me. All of this time I've been focusing my thoughts and energy on the past and how terrible of a man and human being I truly was... was, being the operative word. Sure, I have a past... several in fact. I've done unspeakable things and committed heinous acts against God, Nature, and Humanity... these things can never be changed. No matter how much blood and sweat I spill, there is erasing the past... it is written and it is done. What I didn't understand was that I am not subject to live in the past... I must live for today. The man that lived for the flesh is gone... his deeds may remain, his guilt, his shame. But that man was buried long ago... it is time I let him rest and forget. Instead there is myself, taking his place and moving on in this world, in life. Despite the past, I realized that I am a good man... the man that is here now. An honorable, giving, thoughtful and respectful man. I may not be perfect, but what I am... ain't all that fucking bad.

Awaiting Dawn

The road is long and winding... the cracks in the earth cause my body to waver, unsteady in my new shell. The excitement is exhilarating and terrifying at the same time... each breath becomes a new experience, a new sensation that must be savored. I find myself oftentimes, sitting along the roadside, dwelling in those moments of bliss and wonder... those moments when we are together and the pieces nuzzle tightly together. I spend hours there, just lost in all that is your splendor... without care or caution, I bathe in the grass and downy feathers. Then when night comes, like the villains of yesterday, and I'm left exposed... no shelter, no solace, just the idle hands and tongue lashings in disguise. My footing is lost, as I cower at the sound of my own voice... a new Master to whip and pick the flesh. The dark is long and without mercy... as my knees further grind the tears into their sockets. I wanted a voice, I wanted the pasture... but in those hours I question my resolve. We can slither among the cracked and dripping glass or we can remain until the green sun rises once more. I met Yesterday last night, as I waited... she didn't look quite the same.

Project Humanity Update

Yesterday marked the 100th day of my photo project... I know, I know, everyone is so excited about viewing 100 fucking photos of this pathetic retch of a creature. On the plus side, I'm not posting any of those photos here, so you are free to just read my mindless chatter for the moment. Thank God for small miracles, right?

Seeing how 100 is a perfectly round number and a modest accomplishment, I was faced with a decision to either continue or end the project. I never stated how long this would continue, but rather purely focused on the healing part of this journey. Sadly, the healing never came... or at least nothing monumental. I still think I'm hideous, disgusting, and extremely overweight and pathetic... thank you, Mother. Of course that's not to say other unexpected paths were discovered and some truly inspiring and wonderful events have been uncovered... vague, always so fucking vague! It's really not a mystery, my friends. If you've read along and followed the project... I would say things are quite clear. So after much debate and a few conversations with some of you, someone else, and my therapist, I decided to continue doing the project. I'm still not putting a date or number on it, but rather just taking it day by day. Perhaps if I focus less on the actual miraculous healing I desire to discover and just continue traveling this path... then maybe, just maybe, the wounds can begin to heal in their own time. For those of you that would like to witness this spectacle first hand, I will add a link to the fiasco at the end of this post.

Before I go... I would like to take a moment to thank all of you for your support, encouragement, comments, devotion, and inspiration. Knowing that I'm not alone has made this journey so much easier to stomach. Be well and with peace... more madness will follow shortly.

Project Humanity

One Thing

If you could do anything, or have anything right this moment, no delay or price... what would you choose?


Personally, I stick a fucking knife through my throat until the warm blood spewed across my bedroom walls...

Sweet Surrender

Living as a monster was easier... the daily task of hating myself was almost natural. Trying to live now, feeling, is exhausting... it hurts and my fingers are chewed to the nubs. Why can't I lay on the cold pavement, pretending none of this has happened to me? Can't I just assume the fetal position and welcome the dry, cracking shafts back into my body... as they feed on my musky blood and self-worth. Why must I continue to feel something that only promises more suffering? I never thought something so wonderful could cut so deeply... I was a fool. I understand better why people do the things they do to throw the pearls before the swine... it's for sanity's sake. I'll cut off my own arm, before the rats have a chance to gnaw it clean through. Perhaps it's cowardice, perhaps it ignorance... but I feel lost in this new open world, where terror and insecurity lurk around the shadowed corners. I know I've stated it before... for everything is a cost, a price that must be paid. I surrendered my old life for a new one... the price was the new life would be short lived, if it even lived at all. I can't make sense of this... there is no one in here to ask, no guides or voices to shelter my heart. It's a vast, open arena of torment and heartache... for the garments are too thin to shield the tender. to be reminded of the things I can never have, never touch, never experience... the taunting reminder infused with power. I gave my life, to another, in exchange of the memory that I'm not the one to hold our life together.

Center Stage

Time has been altered.. a new format arises to the occasion. Standing before you, is only myself... withered and weeping. For the past several days, I've been trying to get used to the idea of having a voice... searching desperately to deserve this passing into a new era. The damage is severe and I find myself wavering between moments of extreme joy and abysmal sorrow...the tipping scales have turned the balance from one extreme to another. I'm still lost and the fear is settling into view. I know very few people, and those that are considered trusted are even fewer still... the opinion is that I somehow deserve this new found joy and gateway to redemption. Yet the mirror casts the same image it always has... suffering in guilt and shame are hardly a reasonable price to pay. I am the fool that would tear his own leg off, to serve as a weapon to beat themselves into submission... I need not a Choir, for I am the myriad of enemies storming these castle walls. Still throned, as The King of Shit and Ash. When all is lost, every remaining scrap of dignity, I find myself staring into those precious green eyes, dusting myself off, and finding the strength to stand once more. Those windows welcome the warm air and breathe fresh life into me all over again... reborn every morning to stand on center stage and forge my own destiny. I never dreamt that I could truly feel this way... now I just need a reason to truly deserve it. My Love and My Throne... and the distance that separates us.

The Empty Crowd

I've been away... wandering through the fields of feelings. It has become somewhat silent since I started the medication.... Richard is slipping away and The Choir is still, once more. Already I feel such a loss, the despair tearing through my heart and ripping it out of my chest. For the first time, in a long time, I'm all alone. One bitter sweet occurrence is the emergence of emotions... with things quiet inside my head, I'm able to feel all kinds of terrible emotions. Terrible because I can't control the force in which they spew... terrible because I hurt so bad. Tonight was the first night that I actually cried tears... not a dry, reluctant sob, but actual tears flowing down my cheek and running into the sides of my mouth. A few days before I decided to take the medication, I had a breakthrough in my emotional growth... it was unexpected and shocking. I felt a warm sensation burning within my stomach and up into my chest... it was a birthing of positive emotions. Those long awaited feelings had become to awaken inside my heart and opened a never before seen world to me. But now looking with clarity, I know the price of such joyous emotions... nothing is free and without cost. Yes, I felt something unknown... it was love. And now that the voices are slipping away, I can hear my own thoughts and fears as they turn those beautiful emotions into suffering. This my life really better now... feeling what I feel and knowing what I now know? It's different. It's difficult, to say the least. But those moments of happiness and love, when they come, are so moving and earth shaking in my core being. I really don't know. If life remains void as it has been, then perhaps the price is too high. But if offered a chance to dwell in and out of those moments, even for a short while... then perhaps, yes. Indeed yes. Though life may never be liveable... at least I am living now. That's worth something...