suicide diaries, specimen DwJ.40, part 9
because it just makes no sense. chained to the chair. cup fused to one hand.razor to another. itch just below the chin. fucking cut above the eyes. from repeatedly smashing the wall. so pain can dull away the rest. take control. smearing blood all over the screen. laughing at gibberish. manic yet not insane. stop saying you are ok because you are not. neither is anyone else. all part of the fucked up mosaic made out of pleasure and control. punishment and joy.gloom and grin. because it just makes no sense. sporadic moments of purity. enough to fuck you up some more. for they give you a glimpse into what could be. but you know that is just a day dream. nights have long stop being for sleeping. they are for lucid nightmares on the most conscious level. guilt ridden rollercoaster rides. because it just makes no sense. fucked up psyche. toxic soul. betraying heart. beat to a pulp. and the memories of the past eat into your present. like a wounded animal you scream. because it just makes no sense. nothing is fine. all is fucking lost. illusion finally blown. path illuminated. razor sharp. release the heat. become one with the cold. because it makes perfect sense.