Random bits of writing

Pulling into a nearby truck stop he looked around with eyes that were not exactly his and not exactly sane. Finding a one at the truck stop wasn’t difficult, since he got back he could feel them. It was almost like it was a part of him. Right now the pull was so strong he barely could conceal his need.

“Can I help you with something?” He asked the blond standing just inside the door. The blond was just passably pretty.

“Sure sugar,” It replied with a smile.

“Wouldn’t you rather have something else?” Jared grinned, this was way too easy.

“What did you have in mind sugar,” she dropped her voice into an almost sexy southern drawl.

Jared grinned a lopsided grin that he knew was irresistible before grabbing her hand and leading her towards the bathrooms at the back of the bar. Too easy, he thought, Way too easy.” She allowed him to lead her undoubtedly thinking of him as her next victim.

They entered the truck stops only bathroom. The smells struck Jared immediately, piss and various other substances he didn’t want to know about assailed him. Without preamble he pushed her up against the wall his hands pushing her skirt up around her waist. He reached for the knife at his back and grinned at her wickedly.

“A bad boy huh?” she smiled at him still not understanding. He slid the knife under her panties slicing them cleanly from her body. He didn’t really want her. He wanted someone he could never have. The blond ground against him as her panties fell to the floor. He shivered thoughts of Morgan shimmering through his mind making him rock hard. He unzipped his jeans with his free hand and hoisted her up against the wall. He entered her quickly, roughly. She just laughed taking his length into her. Jared began to rock against her their bodies making a wet sound along with the thud of her hips against the wall he held her too. He grinned as she rode him squealing at the sensation. His other hand came up the knife still gleaming wickedly. He put it against her throat so it bit into her flesh with each thrust of his body into hers.

“Like it rough?” she asked not realizing that the knife was cutting into her with each movement until she felt the cold length of it pressing into her throat. Jared continued to pound into her his eyes clouding over with bloodlust as he watched the dark red liquid slide down her neck staining her white blouse. He leaned forward to lap at the wound. There was something darkly erotic about sucking the blood from the slit he’d made. The knife dropped and clattered to the floor as he leaned in tasting her, his teeth making marks as he sucked at the wound widening it. The blond began to feel his blunt teeth she tried desperately to move his head away from the wound. He continued to move inside her warmth spreading through his body as he lapped greedily at the blood not caring that he was now tearing into her neck.

His arm came up his hand wrapping around her throat and squeezing as she began to make pained noises. He dug his teeth into her shoulder trying to find purchase on her blood slicked skin. His hand tightened into a punishing grip, the blond gasped and tried to pull away as he pounded into her his teeth finally breaking the skin on her shoulder.

“You!” she whispered through his constricting grip. He leaned back for a moment never losing rhythm as he fucked her.

“Yes, me.” He stated simply pausing for only a moment to watch her terror filled eyes. So nice, the wicked thing that was the voice in his head whispered More, it pleaded and he was all too happy to comply as the power rushed through him. He began to concentrate on his movements as he slammed into her cracking the mirror behind her head. She went limp as he came inside her, the blood coursing through him as he pulled the life from her body. He stopped moving pulling out of her and watched as the light slowly left her eyes.

He dropped her body on the ground tucking himself back into his jeans and buttoning them up. The power coursed through his body. He looked down at the girl before him, a girl he could have saved but for the amount of blood he took from her. She lay bleeding still the breath long since gone, the life gradually leaving her.

Jared sighed softly instantly regretting what he’d done to the girl. He moved over to the sink and stared at himself in the cracked and faded mirror. Blood covered the lower half of his face. He rinsed it off and picked up the knife. Just do it, the dark voice whispered, Do it and you will never have to go through this again. He unfastened the leather band that he wore around his wrist. He growled softly pain lancing through him as he sliced the top of his arm creating a perfect bleeding line deep but not deep enough to need stitching. Thankfully Morgan kept the knives sharp. This cut would join the other striped scars on his wrist some new others long since scarred over. He snapped the leather back over the bleeding wrist and watched it as it turned darker blood seeping from around it. He cleaned himself up checking his shirt for telltale signs of what he’d just done. He picked the girl up and put her into one of the stalls where she wouldn’t be found for a while. He closed his eyes for a moment, “I’m sorry,” he whispered not knowing to whom.

What is Known

I know that love is hate twisted around to suit a purpose. If one thing my current circumstance has taught me it is that it is better to die fast and young than it is to live. Now I know why so many people get into prostitution and drugs. Right now I think I would do just about anything to escape.

Two of the best escapes in the world rough sex and drugs. I think I will stick to the rough sex and in some ways would make a the perfect concubine. Not so much into the whole drug experience. Can’t really deal with anything that will make me lose my grip on reality any further. It is already slipping too far beyond my grasp. I know what things should be and I know what I should do I just can’t bring myself to do it.

It is funny that I find killing myself easier than living a relatively simple life. The voices are stronger than they ever have been in the past. They whisper to me telling me what I should do and what things should be like. I am sure I could step outside and find what they are asking for. Only the knowledge that if I start doing what they tell me to do I will be lost. Since when they start realizing I am paying attention to them they will get louder and never stop talking, commanding obedience

I will trap myself inside buried deep within and withdrawn from the rest of the world. I’ve done it before and the people around me looked  into my eyes and saw nothing there. I can function for a long time like that. My body is on autopilot. I will do what ever I am told. I am almost at the point that I will do anything to not feel anymore even if it means listening to the voices and letting them be in control for a while. It just scares people when they look at me and realize that at that moment they are staring at something without a soul.

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Not OK

He said he would love me but was scared of the 1% of the time I was crazy. So he doesnt want me. Why does that bother me? Because I don’t want me. No one does.

Obsecro, mihi facultas videndi Deum angelis et demonibus – da mihi aliter vive – contra – O facultatem ad me, et audite obsecro ut interficias me, et pugnate pro eis vel.

Dieu s’il vous plaît me donner la possibilité de voir vos anges et les démons – me montrer une autre façon de vivre – lutter – s’il vous plaît m’aider et me donner la possibilité de voir et entendre les aider ou s’il vous plaît me tuer.

Gott gib mir bitte die Möglichkeit, Ihren Engel und Teufel zu sehen – zeigen Sie mir eine andere Art zu leben – zu kämpfen – bitte helfen Sie mir und geben mir die Fähigkeit zu hören und ihnen helfen, oder bitte töte mich zu sehen.

Ο Θεός παρακαλώ να μου δώσετε τη δυνατότητα να βλέπουν αγγέλους και διαβόλους σας – δείξτε μου έναν διαφορετικό τρόπο για να ζήσουν – για την καταπολέμηση της – παρακαλώ να με βοηθήσει και να μου δώσει τη δυνατότητα να δει ακούσει και να τους βοηθήσει ή μπορείτε να με σκοτώσει.

الله من فضلك أعطني القدرة على رؤية الملائكة والشياطين الخاص – تبين لي طريقة مختلفة للعيش – لمحاربة – الرجاء مساعدتي وتعطيني القدرة على رؤية نسمع ومساعدتهم أو يرجى قتلي.

يرجى قتلي.

मुझे मार दें.

obsecro ut interficias me.

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What I want

I offer to let you use me in any way that you want – no request is too strange or unusual. I would love for you to do to me what pops into that wonderfully wicked brain of yours.

Ever wonder why… every wonder what I want in return. As it turns out not a whole lot. I just want to tie you down and find out what makes you scream in pleasure… and if I can’t have that pain… but what I truly want is to find where the two meet for you, where they become one inside of you. I want to shatter you into millions of kaleidoscope pieces where the jagged pieces of you slice into my flesh embedding themselves into my flesh so that I can carry a piece of you with me all the time. I want to crack your chest open and crawl inside to curl around your heart, so I can listen to your heart beat from the inside and feel its deadly rhythm beating all around me.

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Ok So I am a bit more fucked up than normal

Rule number 1 Always have an exit strategy

Rule number 2 When you start to make your self think that you are crazy you probably are

Rule number 3 When you can no longer cope use the exit strategy

When pain outweighs the ability to cope then it is time not stop struggling to cope

When you want to scream scream. when you want to cry cry you know where this is heading I really am not sure that I am going to survive this.

What I want

I make it no secret that I will eventually die either by a situation I have put myself in or by my own hand. I do not want anyone to misunderstand this fact. It is not that I dislike life (I do but that is besides the point) its that I dislike living it.

It is not fair that people who want to live die and people who want to die live. Another one of god’s strange ironies I guess like the platypus or opossum. I don’t expect anyone to read the crazed rantings of what rattles around in that empty head of mine. Maybe someone will discover this and realize that it is ok. Its ok to feel like this and not hate yourself for it. Heck if you feel like this you already have enough reason to hate yourself you don’t need any more.

People may ask why I haven’t done it yet. I have often pondered that question when I slide a razor slowly across my skin wishing it were a lovers caress. Watching the red blood tickle its way down my arm trying to tantalize me into making the deeper, feeling more blood sliding down with a soft plink on the tile floor. I listen carefully enraptured by the feeling and the sound of blood slowly draining from my body. The blood caresses my flesh making me shiver and my eyes roll back just for a moment. God it would feel wonderful and decadent. But there are not that many people left in my world and the darkness is closing in.

I wish I could lose myself in the feeling. Let it be the only thing I feel, close off all my other senses to the blade, the blood, and the feel of it. I can feel your warm body beside me, behind me pushing me back against your bare chest. My head lulls against your shoulder surrendering myself to the sensation of the cold metal and your warmth. I can feel each cut, each time the blade slips inside my skin, the ultimate penetration. Not enough to kill be enough to feel it when we fuck later. The sex after is always desperate and frantic (at least for me) I am not sure if I am proving that I am alive or wanting you to plunge the knife deeper so that you can revel in the feel of my life, my blood pour out onto your flesh. Please

On the Edge

As I curl in my living prison watching the leaves that shielded me all day I realize that it is happening again. The reason why I live my life in this desolate land of twisted images and all things sharp and dangerous. Sometimes I am ok and can peak out into the world, the real world. It usually isn’t long before the mask slams down over my features forcing a smile that never quite reaches my eyes. My frayed and fractured world is safe behind the walls inside me.

Most of the time I can function in both worlds, the one of pain and pleasure, and the real one with the people in it. Then there are times that I can’t. I can feel it happening like something blooming deep inside my chest. I can feel the darkness spread seeping through the organs and bone more efficient than the spread of the most aggressive cancer and the darkness is twice as deadly.

This is not new. This is not different. This does not change. I can only hide from it for so long before I start to slip. This is just the beginning. I know it will get worse, I know how bad it will hurt, and I know what my body will scream for. I always hope it won’t come back, always hope that it is gone for good, and I can hide in my world letting the architects of this existence build their strange constructs.

People say that it will pass, and that I shouldn’t think about it. These phrases along with cheer up make me wonder what the person saying it looks like without skin or better yet choking on their own tongue.

The question that is always asked is “Are you homicidal or Suicidal?” I have always wondered what would happen if I grinned at the person asking and answered with the truth “Both.” Something in my eyes always keeps them from asking – it also keeps the people close to me from pushing me too far for fear of me snapping which one day will happen.

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Addiction

I am not sure how it happened or even if it is possible but I am addicted. Not to any drug known to man or beast but to you.

I am not sure how you did it but I crave your touch and no one elses. In any other circumstance I flinch when someone touches me, my skin crawling where their fingers rested even for the briefest of moments. But not you, never you, always you, I don’t know how you did it or why but everyday the addiction gets stronger with every touch, with ever sigh, with every slide of your knife down my body. Pain wrapped in pleasure wrapped back into pain as you toy with me. Sometimes I think you don’t know how addictive your touch, your quiet, is but the craving is worse than heroin and cocaine combined. Nicotine was easier to quit than you are.

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addiction

Daylight and Mourning

I watch the horizon carefully waiting for what I dread is coming. I can almost see the crystalline shine on the glimmering black sand. Just as when the green and blue moons recede pulling their lovely soft colour from the shimmering sand I know what is coming. The twin moons give way to twin suns blazing against the darkness in all of their red hot glory. They make the sand shimmer and dance or maybe that is just a trick of the heat. I watch as the light begins to creep across the sand making the shadows scream and dance away wishing I could do the same. The same light that makes the sands shine blue, purple, and oil slick black makes burns white hot despite their copper burning green and branding iron white colours. I glance over to the the X the architects work desperately to hide from view. The cross rises shining black above the sand. It gleams as the sunlight creeps closer to it. For a moment I watch and wonder if I will see charred remains as the light grows. I glance quickly away as my eyes fall on the gleaming misshapen white skulls of those who have gone before me. Some with horns and some horribly disfigured in unimaginable ways.

There are some things that I just don’t want to know. My eyes focus on the cross for a moment longer trying to discern whether or not he still hangs from the cross before the blinding sun forces me to retreat further into my prison. I can already hear the living bars expanding behind me, their molded black leaves creeping out to shield me from the suns’ horrific rays. I know that they will grow, flower, and fall before the twin suns set leaving me with stark thorned branches once again.

I begin to lower my eyes but not before I hear it a soft whimper carried on the hot wind and wonder if it is only my imagination.

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Why do you do this to me?

The cold stings my knuckles as I quietly tap on the door knowing that you will hear it. I admonish myself yet again for not using my palm, knowing the bone on would tapping wood only cause pain. Footsteps echo in my head as I hear you approach the door and turn the handle. You know it is me, you knew I was coming the polite call that I placed first is always a warning.

I often wonder how you deal with the thoughts that float through the air between us. I can’t read you like I read everyone else and this is a good thing because despite the reason I am here I really don’t want to know. The door opens in a rush of warmth, you must have the heat on or maybe it is just my body reacting to the cat like grace you use to step aside to let me in. I move forward slowly, cautiously, still afraid you will spook like the wild thing that you are. Walking past you making sure that no part of you touches me because the tiniest touch will have me undone. Sitting down on the worn sofa my hand automatically reaches out to pet the feline that stretches lazily on the armrest. Touching the feline is almost as natural a gesture as it was to touch you. Soon the others are there curling around my legs asking quietly for the attention that they know instinctively that I will give them because they are as much a part of you as anything else in the room.

I watch you for a moment as you move through the house only glancing up to meet your soft brown eyes with their almost girlish lashes for a moment as you set the usual choice of beverage down next to me. Not a word is spoken, even though your voice would send a shockwave up my spine. You move to the chair that normally sits near your desk. Your eyes flitting over what covers the wall before resting on me for a brief moment and then on the television that plays an inane drama that neither of us is interested in. After a moment of indecision you move closer to me making me wonder if you know how dangerous you are to me. How addictive you are.

I am almost sure that you do. You use it well to control me without making it seem like that is what you are doing. I watch you out of the corner of my eye, my hand still moving restlessly over the cat soft fur sliding through my fingers. You speak softly telling me about the things that you do and those that you wish that you were doing. I listen more to the timber of your voice than the actual words. One of these days you will catch me listening to you rather than what you are saying, trying to understand why the voices quiet and the glass doesn’t seem as sharp when I am this close to you. I am tempted to reach out and touch you but am afraid that you will dissolve into darknesscheshire