Empathy
is the ultimate art
and I
a man of little identity
complete myself
in the image of a killer's demons.
I've lived another's hell,
and dreamt viciously of my own.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 1:27 AM UTC
I threw my fist at the desk my face slept on.
My face disfigured under the pressure of misery and tears.
I speak through teeth. "You run away, because you're a coward."
Tears are streaming, unraveling into an ultimate truth.
My lungs prepare, taking in all the air around me.
The words scrape my throat:
"YOU'RE A COWARD!!!"
The message echoes through the house.
It's empty.
It's just her and my hatred.
My chin is soaked.
My expression falls into a flat frown.
The house is engulfed in silence.
I am alone.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
"You've eyes that bleed violence" they tell me.
Sometimes I grip my bat so hard,
my chapped nails break into my skin.
I inhale my surroundings
and spit out the excess misery.
They glare at me
as if I were the spawn of Satan.
It would explain much if I was.
A demon..
It's fitting; they all hate me anyways.
That's fine. 'Cuz I hate them too.
Not sure why everyone gives me the cold shoulder, though.
I roam the city vandalizing everything in sight,
maybe that's why.
I've been in every street fight that's come up in the last 13 years.
I've been begged to join in gangs. I don't like those.
Been on the streets since I was 7, back then I was spit on while begging for food.
Resorted to stealing everything in sight in order to survive.
Stabbed a kid for stealing my apple, then realized I had power.
I could defend myself.
Learned to steal from other homeless thieves like me,
got beat up and failed miserably the first hundred times.
Stole a bat at the age of 14.
My weapon of choice hasn't failed me since.
I spray paint **** everywhere I go, beat the **** out of anyone in my way.
Everything I "own" is stolen.
I'm a thief. A criminal. I survive.
People know it, they can smell it, I'm sure of it.
.. Though I've been treated the same since I was a kid..
Maybe I'm a demon of sorts.
So that's my name.
My name's Demon.
Lately I've been feeling someone's presence.
Maybe I spend too much time alone.
Like hell if I care, though. I don't need company.
..
Still..it's comforting..
It's not a ghost. It's someone out there.
It's a girl. She's real.
I used to hang with some alley cat; I'd feed her.
The presence reminds me of that cat.
Maybe she wants me to feed her.
Maybe she needs protection.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC
I love cloudy days.
Everyone is inside, safe, while I am outside, walking.
The wind violent and loud.
People hide away, and the world belongs to only a few people for a moment.
Cloudy days are like the night.
The people sleep, and the world outside
twists and contorts
and is reborn a new world.
There are barely any humans left.
It’s silent, it feels dangerous.
Forbidden.
I like cloudy days.
I like the night.
When the world dies, and is reborn a new,
I am able to love myself. I am able to be myself in peace.
My true nature is released.
Change takes place.
I learn more, I grow faster.
I think I am a nocturnal being.
I think I was meant to live in the wind.
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 3:07 PM UTC
I rue the day I began to wonder,
"Who will be the first to insult my dead Father?"
I am nearly 20, and it's finally happened.
Though it would be easy to say
I am tempted to rip the boy's throat out,
I can't.
The path is too smooth, too short;
to which I say:
I avoid as best as I can to take the shortest path,
not because I am stubborn, not because I want to prove anything,
but because the shortest path
-often filled with smooth stones and the scent of roses-
is often the wrong path.
You are tricked into feeling rewarded before realizing you've plunged deeper
into your selfishness.
With every decision there is the offer of the short path,
and with every short path taken,
you become smaller, and smaller,
until the world around you is but a forest of colossal leaves and giant insects.
The world will be too big to understand,
and you will be small, confused, and sad.
You might lie to yourself and say "But I am big! I see what many cannot; I see what YOU cannot see!"
And that is not correct, but it's alright.
Maybe you can die happier,
believing you have not been consumed by your choices,
believing you understand,
believing you are big.
Lie to yourself, it's alright.
If the short path is what you've chosen all this time,
then truth is not what you seek.
Lies should not be a problem to you,
should they?
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 7:57 PM UTC
Sometimes
I scream
and the neighbors
don't do anything.
Sometimes
I shut my eyes
and scream
and the neighbors
don't call the cops.
Sometimes
my body stops functioning properly
and it twists and contorts
and it brings pain
to my muscles
and I scream
but the neighbors don't do anything.
Sometimes
I warn mother
that I will **** her
and I don't want to
but one day I might do it
one day
when I shut my eyes
and scream
I'll hurt her
and my body will tense up
my muscles will hurt
and I'll cry
and the neighbors
won't do anything about it.
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 4:47 PM UTC
It's late.
The day has been engulfed in moonlight.
The clouds are consuming the sky;
the rain is violent.
My legs lead me into an abandoned shed.
the wind is cold. Cruel.
I need to rest.
"It's no use."
A familiar voice shatters my concentration.
A silhouette steps out of the shadows.
The hell..?
Oh.
Bird.
He stands for all I am against.
He's a risky mother ******
He had been aiding her in her quest to banish me.
I hate him.
"She's leaving as we speak.
No matter how fast you run, you won't catch her."
..No. It can't be.
He's buying her time, he must be bluffi-
"It's true."
...
"I can let you go if you want. You want to see for yourself?
You want to run, feel the rain slam into your skin,
and see how it gradually starts to pierce your flesh?"
He steps closer to me.
"You want to die trying? Die alone in a ***** street?
You're not human. Nobody can see you but her.
And you won't reach her.
You'll be alone.
You'll die alone.
You're going to die, kid.
She's going to **** you.
It's over."
I can't breathe correctly.
My throat is closing.
My vision is blurry.
Tears are streaming down my cheeks. ****
My knees give in.
Everything is suddenly so heavy..
"It can't be." I think to myself.
"She's strong enough to **** me now.
I was too late. I wasn't strong enough.
I couldn't get there on time.
..I'm going to die any minute, now."
I can't even blink.
I can't express emotion. It's like I forgot how to.
Tears are flooding my vision.
Suddenly everything is too alive.
..
So many memories..
"I don't hate you.
But she needs to grow. You need to leave.
You are her demon.
You are a part of her.
But she'll never be happy so long as you are alive.
You tie her down, you keep her weak.
All so you can stay alive.
..And even though..
part of you might actually love her.."
No. I know what he's going to say.
I'm not that kind of being.
I do love her. I do.
"..you're still a weak selfish *******
I break.
"NO!! I LOVE HER, I WANT HER TO BE HAPPY!!
I WANT HER TO BE SAFE!!"
I'm sobbing now.
He raises his voice.
"She's been kept safe for far too long, now, demon!
She wants out.
You keep trying to convince her that keeping you alive
is the only way she'll break out of that shell.
When in reality you are her shell.
You are what keeps her from being happy.
And when she comes to you in times of need,
you lie to her, telling her to do things that only fuel your existence.
You're a liar, demon.
You're selfish and weak.
You're pathetic,
and she knows that."
I can't feel my hands.
There is a pause.
I can see clear again.
I see his boots; he's standing there,
towering over me like some kind of god.
The words crawl up my throat,
barely escaping my lips:
"Yeah..so what?"
I try to stand.
"I'm a selfish little **** yeah."
I'm coughing blood.
I get dizzy as I try to maintain my balance.
****
"I did want her to be happy.
I wanted to keep her away from the humans,
I wanted to keep her safe.
I didn't want her to suffer anymore.
In the end..it was too much.
I didn't know what else to do to help her.
I tried giving her satisfaction in misery.
I gave her the gift of laughter whenever she was screaming.."
I clench my fists as hard as I could.
I felt myself getting weaker as I spoke.
"..whenever she was screaming in agonizing pain
over memories and betrayal!!
I gave her what I understood.
I gave her new urges, new needs,
new ways she could alleviate her pain.
..But it was too much.
She couldn't understand my gifts.
She feared them.
I gave too much. She started to fear me."
I cough again.
Blood stains the floorboards.
My eyes lock in the sight of this proof-
proof that soon I'll be gone.
"That's when you stepped in.
It was the perfect chance, wasn't it?
She was already beginning to see me as an obstacle.
All you needed to do was give that little push, didn't you?"
I look up at him.
He's serious, his head tilted back, relaxed.
He's glaring at me with eyes I've never seen before.
..It's intimidating, but I don't care.
I growl at him,
demanding an answer.
"DIDN'T YOU!!"
He didn't respond.
He lowered his head a bit, looked at my body.
My..
"Wh- no.
No. No not yet, no."
My body is barely there.
I'm fading.
My reason drowned with my screams.
My existence faded with my body.
My vision is struggling between the shed I stand in,
and complete blackness.
And the..
the image of that ******
observing me;
he probably feels accomplished.
I try as best as I can to stay.
"I can't go!
I can't!
I love her! I do.
I.. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..
I'm sorry, **** I'm sorry..
Forgive me for keeping you down..
I'm sorry."
I see him walk back, letting himself be consumed by darkness,
like some legendary hero.
Like some ******* god.
I feel nothing of me left.
I'm torn between cursing at the guy and apologizing to her.
"Keep her safe." I manage to say.
He's probably gone.
I wonder if he heard me?
Maybe I shouldn't worry.
. . .
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
The intent
to ****
has yet to swell
What seeds
are needed
in order
to grow
such dangerous flowers?
How does one
abandon instinct?
How does one crush thought?
How does one betray the mind
in order to make space
for absolute wrongness?
How does one put aside all that is right
in order to sin,
In order to delve deeper into thoughts
society has advised us not to enjoy?
How does one find the courage
to banish a small portion of what is right
to make space
for what is wrong?
and
If truth is so sacred,
and truth knows no boundaries,
then why should we,
slaves and servants of this entity,
limit ourselves so?
Why should we let right and wrong enslave us,
hold us captive, preventing us from acting upon instinct?
If truth, the entity we respect without a second thought
is so sacred to us,
why do we limit ourselves with things of such little importance,
things like "right and wrong", things that are products of weak minds, weak souls?
If God is so powerful,
why should we limit ourselves so?
Why are we less than those we respect?
Why do we choose to be less?
Why do we limit ourselves?
Because we cannot be more than the Gods we create?
We cannot be more than the consequences we create?
We are the masters of the things we think limits us.
We are it's creators. We create truth. We create God.
We create the higher beings who have no limits.
And yet we, creators of such things, limit ourselves so.
We've limited ourselves for so long
that we think the glass wall is carved from stone.
For the wall to shatter,
it needn't be touched;
for the only power needed
is willpower.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
I was diagnosed with something I can't remember the name of.
It's terminal.
Right after I was told,
a nurse walked past me
she made no eye contact,
and she whispered
"Run away while you can."
I looked across the hall,
there were nurses preparing injections.
They were next to my room.
I walked away
or
I thought I did.
I was running
towards a window, too.
I just ran.
and ran.
and ran.
My body crushed against the thick glass.
It didn't break.
I almost fell.
The doctors started sprinting towards me.
I ran towards an exit.
It was close to the stubborn window.
I opened the door.
It was snowing.
I had no shoes.
It was cold.
I didn't know what to do.
I stood
observing the people in coats.
Living.
Not thinking
they would die
any time soon.
The doctors violently dragged me back inside.
I'm not sure why.
I wasn't struggling.
They put me back in my room,
where I waited patiently
to die.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC
I want
to embrace my demon;
make love with it's desires,
I want to
let myself be enveloped
by it's existence.
The only reason
I refuse to do so
is because the existence
of such monsters
might mean
a portion of my sanity is lost.
That both excites and terrifies me.
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 6:48 PM UTC