Edge of your seat folks! More like edge of the bed Live screaming Live streaming tears Talk about true horror It’s so loud Too loud Round and round Only the hammers of hell drown They fade out the noise
Stop beating yourself! but how? How when your brain hates you
Dredging up an old fleshy skeletons And they snap snap snap They snap and snap and It laughs while I squirm While I scream and plead Snap snap snap Beat my own fists Against the floor Forehead against the bones But it’s all agony from there
Alone at 4:48 am and I can’t breathe Shiver and shake like a fever seizure Listen to a voice suggesting solutions But antidepressants are not the answer They don’t stop the nightmares; The clawing for leverage To keep myself from falling The gasping for air to keep from drowning The search for glue to keep from falling to pieces Or the quicksilver pain that follows on waking
In the small burg of Skull Creek, a death is on the prowl. Some say it is a copycat killer, out for his moment of fame, but Jacqueline DePasse and her diligent crew of detectives soon learn that it is so much more than a tribute to the only known and convicted female serial killer in captivity. Cathleen Carson. DePasse, with the assistance of crime reporter Jake Michaels and her team, soon discover that one victim survived and she will be the key, the one who must Roll the Beautiful Bones and stop a killer before he strikes again.
Don’t be too kind to me.
I’m only human and like it or not
There’s still a heart ticking away In here.
Worse yet, it feels things and I’m tired.
Stupid thing, it still wants to believe that maybe
words aren’t all doggerel and dirges
secrets and lies and wooful design.
so, please, don’t be too kind
I may believe you.
tears lived there
and I believed him
until I discovered
that numbness has
its merits and that
tequila and tears
make a fine mixture
in which to drown in
Tiptoe through ground glass but leave no bloody footprints behind.
Confuzzled by the contradictory message? Welcome to my world. I suggest you run.
you’re still here? interesting. my thoughts about the situation go as thus: Winter’s Chill is a twat. On it’s heels, the Agoniser comes with his pretty, pain poisoned stick this son of a skunkbutt…his main pleasure in existence is to torture and torment everyone.
as you see, what goes on upstairs, isn’t pretty. those damned squatters have set up shop in the braincase are back and they have drawn some fairly apt, if pornographically accurate, representations of reality.
and now, to the chagrin of only me, there’s a high frequency vibration that has settled into my bones. an epically proportional ache that is slowly driving me utterly bonkers with a touch of batshit.