Caverns and Wind V (Squish) Mature content No. 376 Published May 26th,2023 9:46am pdt read ( words) Past entries "I need comfort. Today is Thursday, May 25th and I was supposed to roll across the bay with my old boss to look at a problem. Early this morning, though, I changed my mind due to feeling anxiety. As soon as I canceled, all of the concern fell away and I was much more comfortable. I need to keep such things in mind in the future so as to avoid the need to cancel anything. Not only did I awaken due to being nervous, but two dreams caught me upside the head, as well, and both were strange and uncomfortable. I remember some details even hours later. Hmm. Fortunately, there were no visions or anything of the like. I don’t know what today is going to entail. Hopefully, the anger from last night will not return to my heart. I felt so much pain yesterday... No more, please. I don’t enjoy being angry. The blue dress will not respond well to my bad moods, and it is empty. Mustard. Knives. I am unhappy sitting here and in dire need of a certain type of comfort. I just need the fucking comfort. Please help me. She was there and now she is not, but I still see everything. I wanted to wrap her in the dress and ensure she remains warm in this place. Rewrite? No way. Partial? Maybe. My grandfather had a partial and when we were young he would let it slip out a little just to give my sister and me the willies. So funny. That is not the same partial, though. Maybe just that girl’s pants partially off? I need to see everything... Trace, caress, love. Everything. All of her lines. There are no lines in the dress. It is filthy, too. All the wind... Blue dress. Wind. Water. Filthy. Where did she go? Can I see her again? Will she smile at me? Will her eyes still be neutral? I need to see her. I also need to see more of her. This is going to make me angry, just like all those occasions of the ‘squishing’ – yes, all the way back to the beginning of the glow. I don’t enjoy feeling so bad all the time. There needs to be some relief once in a while, but lately those moments are shrinking as quickly as my future chances of being comfortable. Maybe I’ll see her with that silly expression. Maybe not. I can’t talk about it. Not much, anyway, and I can’t even say why. This is very difficult. Something may happen soon. Something. That’s all I can say. Trust me, you don’t want to know the details. The blue dress will be floating back and forth on its hanger, beckoning me to touch the lines. HER lines. Something may happen, much like the other day when I was floored and then missed the opportunity of a lifetime. I still don’t understand... Why did she do that? Was it directed at me, or simply a matter of comfort? I hope she does it again, too. I need a repeat as badly as I need oxygen. Wind and water will dictate the path, just like those mountains and glaciers. LInes there, too. Lines everywhere I look, even inside the fucking cavern. I had a gun in one of the dreams. I fell down and everything I had been carrying ended up all over the ground, after which people gathered around me. The feeling was akin to being some kind of outlaw. I was not happy about them staring, either. I felt angry and yelled for everyone to move away and leave me alone. One guy helped me pick up my things and regain a touch of composure. Everyone else slowly retreated, too. I may have been next to an RV of sorts because I seem to remember feeling the need to flee the area and there was a vehicle present. I can’t know for certain now, unfortunately. I don’t know who I was or why the gun was present. Very confusing, rather like trying to understand how that girl can pull at me with so much power. Ugh. And... Ugh. I need comfort. No more squish, please. Leave it alone. I have already been hurt enough for a lifetime. I need comfort to offset all this other shit over which I have no control. That would be a big offset, as well. Believe it. If the dress can survive all this time in the cavern with harsh weather, I can find some way of residing where I so badly need. The fetal position, just like many years ago. She was right there. And then another. And then another. On and on it went. I need that right fucking now so the dress can live out life as it should. I’ve been in enough pain, thank you. Plenty. God damn fucking hell do I ever want to... Knives, for the tenth time. Knives in my brain. I caught a glimpse. Knives. Water. Mustard. Loss. Thighs. I will not be unwise. More lies. Try them on for size. Slender, this is true. Slender. Need. Want. Nothing. I have nothing, she has power. I don’t know what I’ll be able to accomplish today. Having canceled the trip this morning, I gave myself lots of time to do whatever seems best (or comfortable). All I have to do is get her form and flowing hair the hell out of my fucking head, and the day can progress. Dress. No success. God bless? No less. I can show her... Everything is dark now. BREASTS. Right there, never here. All square? Full of fear. I can show her. I’d die if she showed me. Why did she do that? I saw but did not see near enough. I saw a little, and then my weakened, pathetic brain computed that somewhere inside her pretty head was the intention to allow me a glimpse, yet I was not prepared. Scared. I could swear... Right over there. Oh, that hair. Beware, my dreams can scare. Aware? Nowhere. I’ll work on something or whatever today, I guess. The typical mid-morning motivation is being tempered by daydreams of comfort; that magical place I have not visited for years. The thoughts keep violating space better reserved for productivity. I can’t do anything about them, however, because the power inherent in my needs has been amplified over the years and there is simply no way of squishing it anymore. I am in pain at this very moment and I want her to hold me and state that everything will be ok because she UNDERSTANDS. There it is... Right in the middle of the cave... The words which govern everything I do. I can wrap her in the dress – all flowing blue and soft – and then the world would right itself in an instant. Lovely. Soft. Beautiful. Blue. Mustard in my head. Maybe I should go to bed. Feeling partially dead. Instead? Paint it all red. Paint it with anger. I need all of her all over all of me. Remember? I am a basket case and worse with each passing day. The past continues to rise and cause me pain, and as time rolls along the rails, the nature of being closed off and knowing nothing is out there (no HER) increases the severity of the pain. Every fucking new day is exactly like the last. I might end up in this fucking cavern forever. Right there, sometimes. She is right there. Sometimes. I saw that maneuver and lost my shit. Was it for me? Not likely. The wind of my life will never shift again. This is all there is to be... One direction; no turns. I need to wrap her in the dress and I rarely like dresses or skirts. Some are ok; pants outweigh. No way? Okay. When I see Saundra, I want to gently rest my head on her chest. Every time, too. I want more, but that would be enough. Maybe she fits the dress? Eh... I have no guess. What a mess. Round and round; from here to there, Zero pulls equally, I swear. Drink the wine; prove the love, Show her there is nothing above. SHOW HER. The cavern is cold. I need her arms. I am in pain. Sadness prevails yet again. I need her so badly that I can’t fucking see straight most days. Clarity is ruined nearly all of the time because my head is clouded with visions and desire so strong it could alter the nature of the universe if set free. If a moment comes along, it will be ruined like all the rest because I am too far detached from reality. I will remain in this place forever. The dress? It stays put as a reminder of all that has been burned away in this life. There she is again... Saundra. Those big, beautiful eyes could help me, but alas none of that can be real. The only remaining thought is to worship her tenderness and demonstrate my appreciation of her as a woman. That’s all. No big deal. Softness and warmth. I need comfort. Ugh... Nothing. This cavern will remain cold and damp. I will remain in pain and full of sadness. The dress cannot help. It is empty. I am covered in mustard. Salmon? I don’t know. Gold, too. Purple. One year back and I lost my mind. One year ahead and I lost my mind. Five years? Holy fucking shit, Batman... My brain melted at the darkness and colors. Purple? Maybe. And then Saundra and her bulging breasts. Purple. The dress is blue. I am blue. There was salmon, for sure. Black. Gold. Big eyes. Windows. A view of the world going by, just like what I see every fucking day. I am squished again. I need a demonstration, but where is it? Can I? Will I? No answers, just colors. I want to slather the world in mustard. Fuck everything. I don’t need this shit. Not happy; not entirely angry. Just not happy. The planet will not slow or cease its rotation due to my problems, either. I am no one. A tiny soul with a keyboard and penchant for typing, nothing more. My voice does not seem to matter anymore. I have become overly weak and sensitive; likely entirely too much for one person. Am I a person? Ugh. The dress remains empty as a result of every fucking thing I’ve tried for many years. Empty and blue, covered in mud and mustard. The trees pay no mind because they are similarly dying. The cavern is beginning to feel like home. All I need is a pizza and a television. I will die in this place. Thankfully, this is only the fifth visit in less than two and a half years. There will be more, and eventually I will not be able to leave. At least I know as much. Mustard and mud. I’ve been sliced to ribbons in this life. I need something to be different. What? No answer. No idea. No power. Only pain. Sometimes when a topic bothers me, I will research it on the Internet to learn if there are others in the world who feel as I do. As of yet, there have been damned few occasions of finding just that. The only result is not learning, but an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach which requires a massive shift in circumstances in order for me to find any semblance of comfort again. I am referring only to the physical type. Inside my head and heart, true comfort is far too elusive anymore. If I could sit here and press one button which would immediately annihilate all of human society, these would be my last words. Believe it. Human beings are the scourge of the planet. Disagree? You are one of them and don’t know it. Fuckhead. Come to this cavern and I’ll demonstrate true sadness. Bury yourself here along with everyone else. Nothing good is on the horizon. And there is Michelle again with her sympathetic, understanding tone and loving manner. God fucking damn this cavern, too. I see her eyes and hear her voice and then wish that she was here with me. Michelle knew. She just fucking KNEW. The girl could lay rest to two problems and maybe even put on the dress. Bless her. She is one of two, the other being Fiona nearly five seasons from now. That kind of caring may not actually exist in reality, but then again, is there anything I need that is actually real? Aside from part of the routine, I’ve been in this chair for roughly five hours today. Compulsion is a negative term, and I am the fucking poster child. Forever searching. Never ending. Never happy. I need comfort. God damn it all to hell... I need comfort. Mustard everywhere. Water. Mud. The color of the dress is barely apparent. None of it will stop. I need her. I need her to tell me everything will be alright. Nothing else in life is as powerful a need, and the roots of such dire feelings were created by none other than me. Oh, there have been strikes against me – squishing, posturing, pain and the like – but the fact remains that I need her because I created such a woman. Maybe I’ll drown in the mustard and mud and then no one will have to hear my shit anymore. My feelings don’t matter. Platitudes. Placation. Squishing, all the while. Believe it. I already know. Mustard. I need her in this cavern with me. We can hide ourselves away forever, much like Andrea and me in Florida all those years ago. Oh, God... What a fucking dream. I need her with me, here. NOW. I don’t want to continue on the same path with nothing and no happiness. I fucking need her in here with me so badly that I can barely see straight. I am unconcerned about the wind. Rails again. Rails before me; rails behind me. The line may have been straight this entire time, all the way back to the first shit situation that still brings me pain every day. Straight. The line is akin to that long run into the resort when Julie and I blew up everything. I wish I could do the same at this very moment. I also wish I could see her face again (along with the rest of that little beauty). She helped, always, and then died for it. That type of girl was good for me, and I hope I was the same toward her. I don’t know if anything like that will ever transpire in my future, yet the train is always apparent. Rails. Nothing else matters anymore. Well, the mustard matters. This day is going nowhere, much like the rest of my life. I need her. Today is Friday and I need her to tell me a few things. No, not the lovely little Julie, but the other one. Oh, any number of forms, honestly. There is rarely a limit to my imagination. This morning I have been picturing hurtful situations again and then watching them morph into blissful consequences right before my eyes. The power of memory cannot be overstated. I just need what I need, and the fact that such needs are so far out of balance these days, well... Read the older shit, I guess. Don’t provoke the knives. This is not a good morning so far. I have coffee, but also I am seeing the empty dress swinging in the wind and there is nothing I can do about it. If she were here with me, the dress could find a purpose. The mud could be removed. The future could come along sans knives. My head is beginning to haze over right now, too. Thoughts are becoming disjointed. And the blue is paired with orange for a moment. Pulled back. Smiling. Adorable. I need her. Yes, her. No, not the other one. Just the one I mentioned. Follow along. There was orange and blue and I began to lose my way on this page. Orange and blue. Adorable. Warm. Right over there, yet still not over there like the other one. She pulls the most from me. There is a different blue now. Darker. Somewhere beyond the blue is all that shit I need so badly. Very badly. This is dire and I see the depth of my position every fucking day. Not a good morning. I really need her. Another dream. I was trying to escape some place with a few others and nearly succeeded. I can’t remember if we made it out of the place or died somewhere along the way. They had guns. I want to dream about her again. Alas... No control there. The bra strap. The kissing. The hand-holding. Above all? The knowledge that she understood. She was right there and my worries began to fade away as those eyes telegraphed everything I’ve waited years to hear. Everything. Maybe she could have helped the dress, too. I don’t know. I missed the maneuver and it still hurts me. I missed it. Rarely have I seen the screen behind the fucking mirror, too. I am desperate to see more than I have, yet still the entire topic and all related ideas are off-limits as regards the site. I could probably describe what she did – much like conveying the appearance of that woman at the goddess market when she tugged at the waistline of her yoga pants – but nothing I say can ever get across the feelings inside me knowing there was a sliver of previously unknown information revealed right before my sad, desperate eyes. I missed out on something wonderful. These days, anything standing out from the din is extremely rare. I saw from a distance. That is all. Now I can’t reconcile myself with such facts. I am a basket case. Um... More than ever. Right there. Over by the other place, too. Ugh. I am sitting here miserable and sad yet again. The mornings are always wide open to whatever I need to do, mostly just gathering thoughts and placing them on the screen, yet the real need continues to evade even my strongest wishes. I need her and I need more. Maybe too much. I never wanted this shit. Black. Ah... And then the other color... Brown. Fucking hell. Cute beyond words. The dress is blue so there will be no clashing. Wow, I’d like to... Knives. What does that mean? Nothing to anyone but me. The cavern will continue. Water, wind, mud and mustard... Everything detrimental (wasn’t that the previous entry?) to my well-being and comfort in life, what there is left of it. She has all of the comfort. She owns it. I need her to share. Payment upon receipt of said comfort. She does not know. No one does. And then over there... I saw more. Not much, but more than last month. Dark. Smiling. Mysterious. Down we go. Again with the dreams. Again with the dreams. Right over there was the maneuver of a lifetime and I missed it. Oh, I saw it, but not as closely as I could have and now the incident hurts deeply. Maybe I’ll just go over there and ask, afterward the only likely result being the soil. I have rarely asked. The mustard always gets in the way. Sense attempts, but the mustard dictates. The wind pays no mind. Knives. I can’t say much anymore. Everything is coded and veiled. The filing cabinet inside my head is beginning to buckle under the pressure of so much information. My behavior has changed some, too. Just a little, but enough. The change has been to the negative side of things. That’s what happens after being squished. People will just have to live with the alterations I have made along with those still underway. I am not happy. There was something... Over there. I saw a little bit, but the light level and other interference combined to hinder my method of vision and I missed something wonderful. I can’t talk about it and the feelings are fucking killing me. Mustard, yet again, has foiled everything and left me a ball of desire with zero recourse. I did not do this. And now the mood dictates a change. The time has come for ‘we’ rather than ‘I’. ‘Us’ in favor of ‘me’. Live with it. We are driven toward the worst goals. We are on the edge of destroying everything through the hidden philosophy of evil. It is in there, deep. We are close to losing control and denying circumstances. We need her more than anything – the feelings which are seemingly permanently elusive – and the more time that passes, the more we see just how far away she actually is. And then anger. And then coldness. And then whatever else we can flex, and that is not much at all. We are powerless for all intents and purposes, and the only real power left inside is knowledge. We are not in a position to do anything with it, though. More anger is the result of such a realization. Anger. The slim positive is that the anger recedes a bit when we see her because she is unrelated and unaware, most likely for the rest of time. We will be dead and she still will not know. She cannot know. Dead before or dead after is still dead. And we need her anyway. The cavern is lonely. Sad. Dark. Cold. We do not know which way to turn anymore. She is not there; she is elsewhere and looking delicious. Elsewhere, though. We can do nothing about this shit. Elsewhere, like all the other shit. The maneuver of a lifetime, as if she knew and tossed a vision solely for our benefit and subsequent fall. Now there is nothing we can do. Nothing. We stare at the dress and imagine something inside, all warm and lovely. But no one is there. And? No one is anywhere. Nothing. No one. A gross bastardization of love and affection; the reverse, to be sure. Quite the reverse... Barren; cold (again); mustard. Black. Blackness everywhere; warmth nowhere. She is not there. She is not here. And we need her. Down we go. ‘Into the abyss I’ll fall; the eye of Horus.’ We go. The old keywords barely apply to us now. They are becoming as irrelevant as life itself and have been replaced... Power. Rejection of authority. Manipulation. Violence. Disgust with societal norms. There is only one direction left, and it is nothing we imagined a few years ago. This is not a physical direction, nor is it a standpoint aimed at people. It is within. We have explored and learned. We have come to understand our place. We have created this place with the assistance and reckless disregard at which those fucking people excelled. They have been expert in their movements; brilliant with the snowstorms. No more. We have to find it; we will find it, eventually, and then more alterations will take place than a seamstress can perform in a lifetime. Negative plane actions; frozen mindsets; walls larger than life. They will all come to pass. The cavern? Set ablaze at long last. This direction has been mapped and railed by those people. Them. Believe it. We have finally had enough. Squished. The battle, ongoing. The end, not far. The realization, stark. The pain, acute. This is the line. We have been hearing it for decades. We no longer find reason to listen. They can go away or waste time, the choice being obvious. Our preference matters not because we are now in a place bereft of chance. There is only one way; one set of rails left. There is no turning, ever. The rails dictate. We died on those rails. Believe it, we already know of their power and influence. The others will see both soon enough. Us? We will relish. We’ve heard it for years. Now the time has come for us to do the talking. Beware, and remain mindful of the fact that these words carry only micrograms of representation for what we are truly feeling inside. Nearly nothing. We must do the talking. There is no other way. Blister the timeline; blast the shit; forsake everything. Leave the others behind. Leave them out. Let them wonder. We no longer care; not even a little. Knives? Probably not. We no longer feel the need for physical weapons. The sentient weapons have already caused enough damage to alter our stance and cement the mindset that the enemies know no end to their attempts at derailing us. The sinful realm is filled with sex and suicide; the inevitable fall has been stopped. The latin is now finished. We already know. They do not. They will never know because every single fucking syllable has been forfeit. Deprivation. Ice. Mystery. The knives can remain sheathed. You caused the birth of this. You did it. Now live with rotting fruits of your labor." Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
Caverns and Wind V (Squish) Mature content No. 376 Published May 26th,2023 9:46am pdt read ( words) Past entries "I need comfort. Today is Thursday, May 25th and I was supposed to roll across the bay with my old boss to look at a problem. Early this morning, though, I changed my mind due to feeling anxiety. As soon as I canceled, all of the concern fell away and I was much more comfortable. I need to keep such things in mind in the future so as to avoid the need to cancel anything. Not only did I awaken due to being nervous, but two dreams caught me upside the head, as well, and both were strange and uncomfortable. I remember some details even hours later. Hmm. Fortunately, there were no visions or anything of the like. I don’t know what today is going to entail. Hopefully, the anger from last night will not return to my heart. I felt so much pain yesterday... No more, please. I don’t enjoy being angry. The blue dress will not respond well to my bad moods, and it is empty. Mustard. Knives. I am unhappy sitting here and in dire need of a certain type of comfort. I just need the fucking comfort. Please help me. She was there and now she is not, but I still see everything. I wanted to wrap her in the dress and ensure she remains warm in this place. Rewrite? No way. Partial? Maybe. My grandfather had a partial and when we were young he would let it slip out a little just to give my sister and me the willies. So funny. That is not the same partial, though. Maybe just that girl’s pants partially off? I need to see everything... Trace, caress, love. Everything. All of her lines. There are no lines in the dress. It is filthy, too. All the wind... Blue dress. Wind. Water. Filthy. Where did she go? Can I see her again? Will she smile at me? Will her eyes still be neutral? I need to see her. I also need to see more of her. This is going to make me angry, just like all those occasions of the ‘squishing’ – yes, all the way back to the beginning of the glow. I don’t enjoy feeling so bad all the time. There needs to be some relief once in a while, but lately those moments are shrinking as quickly as my future chances of being comfortable. Maybe I’ll see her with that silly expression. Maybe not. I can’t talk about it. Not much, anyway, and I can’t even say why. This is very difficult. Something may happen soon. Something. That’s all I can say. Trust me, you don’t want to know the details. The blue dress will be floating back and forth on its hanger, beckoning me to touch the lines. HER lines. Something may happen, much like the other day when I was floored and then missed the opportunity of a lifetime. I still don’t understand... Why did she do that? Was it directed at me, or simply a matter of comfort? I hope she does it again, too. I need a repeat as badly as I need oxygen. Wind and water will dictate the path, just like those mountains and glaciers. LInes there, too. Lines everywhere I look, even inside the fucking cavern. I had a gun in one of the dreams. I fell down and everything I had been carrying ended up all over the ground, after which people gathered around me. The feeling was akin to being some kind of outlaw. I was not happy about them staring, either. I felt angry and yelled for everyone to move away and leave me alone. One guy helped me pick up my things and regain a touch of composure. Everyone else slowly retreated, too. I may have been next to an RV of sorts because I seem to remember feeling the need to flee the area and there was a vehicle present. I can’t know for certain now, unfortunately. I don’t know who I was or why the gun was present. Very confusing, rather like trying to understand how that girl can pull at me with so much power. Ugh. And... Ugh. I need comfort. No more squish, please. Leave it alone. I have already been hurt enough for a lifetime. I need comfort to offset all this other shit over which I have no control. That would be a big offset, as well. Believe it. If the dress can survive all this time in the cavern with harsh weather, I can find some way of residing where I so badly need. The fetal position, just like many years ago. She was right there. And then another. And then another. On and on it went. I need that right fucking now so the dress can live out life as it should. I’ve been in enough pain, thank you. Plenty. God damn fucking hell do I ever want to... Knives, for the tenth time. Knives in my brain. I caught a glimpse. Knives. Water. Mustard. Loss. Thighs. I will not be unwise. More lies. Try them on for size. Slender, this is true. Slender. Need. Want. Nothing. I have nothing, she has power. I don’t know what I’ll be able to accomplish today. Having canceled the trip this morning, I gave myself lots of time to do whatever seems best (or comfortable). All I have to do is get her form and flowing hair the hell out of my fucking head, and the day can progress. Dress. No success. God bless? No less. I can show her... Everything is dark now. BREASTS. Right there, never here. All square? Full of fear. I can show her. I’d die if she showed me. Why did she do that? I saw but did not see near enough. I saw a little, and then my weakened, pathetic brain computed that somewhere inside her pretty head was the intention to allow me a glimpse, yet I was not prepared. Scared. I could swear... Right over there. Oh, that hair. Beware, my dreams can scare. Aware? Nowhere. I’ll work on something or whatever today, I guess. The typical mid-morning motivation is being tempered by daydreams of comfort; that magical place I have not visited for years. The thoughts keep violating space better reserved for productivity. I can’t do anything about them, however, because the power inherent in my needs has been amplified over the years and there is simply no way of squishing it anymore. I am in pain at this very moment and I want her to hold me and state that everything will be ok because she UNDERSTANDS. There it is... Right in the middle of the cave... The words which govern everything I do. I can wrap her in the dress – all flowing blue and soft – and then the world would right itself in an instant. Lovely. Soft. Beautiful. Blue. Mustard in my head. Maybe I should go to bed. Feeling partially dead. Instead? Paint it all red. Paint it with anger. I need all of her all over all of me. Remember? I am a basket case and worse with each passing day. The past continues to rise and cause me pain, and as time rolls along the rails, the nature of being closed off and knowing nothing is out there (no HER) increases the severity of the pain. Every fucking new day is exactly like the last. I might end up in this fucking cavern forever. Right there, sometimes. She is right there. Sometimes. I saw that maneuver and lost my shit. Was it for me? Not likely. The wind of my life will never shift again. This is all there is to be... One direction; no turns. I need to wrap her in the dress and I rarely like dresses or skirts. Some are ok; pants outweigh. No way? Okay. When I see Saundra, I want to gently rest my head on her chest. Every time, too. I want more, but that would be enough. Maybe she fits the dress? Eh... I have no guess. What a mess. Round and round; from here to there, Zero pulls equally, I swear. Drink the wine; prove the love, Show her there is nothing above. SHOW HER. The cavern is cold. I need her arms. I am in pain. Sadness prevails yet again. I need her so badly that I can’t fucking see straight most days. Clarity is ruined nearly all of the time because my head is clouded with visions and desire so strong it could alter the nature of the universe if set free. If a moment comes along, it will be ruined like all the rest because I am too far detached from reality. I will remain in this place forever. The dress? It stays put as a reminder of all that has been burned away in this life. There she is again... Saundra. Those big, beautiful eyes could help me, but alas none of that can be real. The only remaining thought is to worship her tenderness and demonstrate my appreciation of her as a woman. That’s all. No big deal. Softness and warmth. I need comfort. Ugh... Nothing. This cavern will remain cold and damp. I will remain in pain and full of sadness. The dress cannot help. It is empty. I am covered in mustard. Salmon? I don’t know. Gold, too. Purple. One year back and I lost my mind. One year ahead and I lost my mind. Five years? Holy fucking shit, Batman... My brain melted at the darkness and colors. Purple? Maybe. And then Saundra and her bulging breasts. Purple. The dress is blue. I am blue. There was salmon, for sure. Black. Gold. Big eyes. Windows. A view of the world going by, just like what I see every fucking day. I am squished again. I need a demonstration, but where is it? Can I? Will I? No answers, just colors. I want to slather the world in mustard. Fuck everything. I don’t need this shit. Not happy; not entirely angry. Just not happy. The planet will not slow or cease its rotation due to my problems, either. I am no one. A tiny soul with a keyboard and penchant for typing, nothing more. My voice does not seem to matter anymore. I have become overly weak and sensitive; likely entirely too much for one person. Am I a person? Ugh. The dress remains empty as a result of every fucking thing I’ve tried for many years. Empty and blue, covered in mud and mustard. The trees pay no mind because they are similarly dying. The cavern is beginning to feel like home. All I need is a pizza and a television. I will die in this place. Thankfully, this is only the fifth visit in less than two and a half years. There will be more, and eventually I will not be able to leave. At least I know as much. Mustard and mud. I’ve been sliced to ribbons in this life. I need something to be different. What? No answer. No idea. No power. Only pain. Sometimes when a topic bothers me, I will research it on the Internet to learn if there are others in the world who feel as I do. As of yet, there have been damned few occasions of finding just that. The only result is not learning, but an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach which requires a massive shift in circumstances in order for me to find any semblance of comfort again. I am referring only to the physical type. Inside my head and heart, true comfort is far too elusive anymore. If I could sit here and press one button which would immediately annihilate all of human society, these would be my last words. Believe it. Human beings are the scourge of the planet. Disagree? You are one of them and don’t know it. Fuckhead. Come to this cavern and I’ll demonstrate true sadness. Bury yourself here along with everyone else. Nothing good is on the horizon. And there is Michelle again with her sympathetic, understanding tone and loving manner. God fucking damn this cavern, too. I see her eyes and hear her voice and then wish that she was here with me. Michelle knew. She just fucking KNEW. The girl could lay rest to two problems and maybe even put on the dress. Bless her. She is one of two, the other being Fiona nearly five seasons from now. That kind of caring may not actually exist in reality, but then again, is there anything I need that is actually real? Aside from part of the routine, I’ve been in this chair for roughly five hours today. Compulsion is a negative term, and I am the fucking poster child. Forever searching. Never ending. Never happy. I need comfort. God damn it all to hell... I need comfort. Mustard everywhere. Water. Mud. The color of the dress is barely apparent. None of it will stop. I need her. I need her to tell me everything will be alright. Nothing else in life is as powerful a need, and the roots of such dire feelings were created by none other than me. Oh, there have been strikes against me – squishing, posturing, pain and the like – but the fact remains that I need her because I created such a woman. Maybe I’ll drown in the mustard and mud and then no one will have to hear my shit anymore. My feelings don’t matter. Platitudes. Placation. Squishing, all the while. Believe it. I already know. Mustard. I need her in this cavern with me. We can hide ourselves away forever, much like Andrea and me in Florida all those years ago. Oh, God... What a fucking dream. I need her with me, here. NOW. I don’t want to continue on the same path with nothing and no happiness. I fucking need her in here with me so badly that I can barely see straight. I am unconcerned about the wind. Rails again. Rails before me; rails behind me. The line may have been straight this entire time, all the way back to the first shit situation that still brings me pain every day. Straight. The line is akin to that long run into the resort when Julie and I blew up everything. I wish I could do the same at this very moment. I also wish I could see her face again (along with the rest of that little beauty). She helped, always, and then died for it. That type of girl was good for me, and I hope I was the same toward her. I don’t know if anything like that will ever transpire in my future, yet the train is always apparent. Rails. Nothing else matters anymore. Well, the mustard matters. This day is going nowhere, much like the rest of my life. I need her. Today is Friday and I need her to tell me a few things. No, not the lovely little Julie, but the other one. Oh, any number of forms, honestly. There is rarely a limit to my imagination. This morning I have been picturing hurtful situations again and then watching them morph into blissful consequences right before my eyes. The power of memory cannot be overstated. I just need what I need, and the fact that such needs are so far out of balance these days, well... Read the older shit, I guess. Don’t provoke the knives. This is not a good morning so far. I have coffee, but also I am seeing the empty dress swinging in the wind and there is nothing I can do about it. If she were here with me, the dress could find a purpose. The mud could be removed. The future could come along sans knives. My head is beginning to haze over right now, too. Thoughts are becoming disjointed. And the blue is paired with orange for a moment. Pulled back. Smiling. Adorable. I need her. Yes, her. No, not the other one. Just the one I mentioned. Follow along. There was orange and blue and I began to lose my way on this page. Orange and blue. Adorable. Warm. Right over there, yet still not over there like the other one. She pulls the most from me. There is a different blue now. Darker. Somewhere beyond the blue is all that shit I need so badly. Very badly. This is dire and I see the depth of my position every fucking day. Not a good morning. I really need her. Another dream. I was trying to escape some place with a few others and nearly succeeded. I can’t remember if we made it out of the place or died somewhere along the way. They had guns. I want to dream about her again. Alas... No control there. The bra strap. The kissing. The hand-holding. Above all? The knowledge that she understood. She was right there and my worries began to fade away as those eyes telegraphed everything I’ve waited years to hear. Everything. Maybe she could have helped the dress, too. I don’t know. I missed the maneuver and it still hurts me. I missed it. Rarely have I seen the screen behind the fucking mirror, too. I am desperate to see more than I have, yet still the entire topic and all related ideas are off-limits as regards the site. I could probably describe what she did – much like conveying the appearance of that woman at the goddess market when she tugged at the waistline of her yoga pants – but nothing I say can ever get across the feelings inside me knowing there was a sliver of previously unknown information revealed right before my sad, desperate eyes. I missed out on something wonderful. These days, anything standing out from the din is extremely rare. I saw from a distance. That is all. Now I can’t reconcile myself with such facts. I am a basket case. Um... More than ever. Right there. Over by the other place, too. Ugh. I am sitting here miserable and sad yet again. The mornings are always wide open to whatever I need to do, mostly just gathering thoughts and placing them on the screen, yet the real need continues to evade even my strongest wishes. I need her and I need more. Maybe too much. I never wanted this shit. Black. Ah... And then the other color... Brown. Fucking hell. Cute beyond words. The dress is blue so there will be no clashing. Wow, I’d like to... Knives. What does that mean? Nothing to anyone but me. The cavern will continue. Water, wind, mud and mustard... Everything detrimental (wasn’t that the previous entry?) to my well-being and comfort in life, what there is left of it. She has all of the comfort. She owns it. I need her to share. Payment upon receipt of said comfort. She does not know. No one does. And then over there... I saw more. Not much, but more than last month. Dark. Smiling. Mysterious. Down we go. Again with the dreams. Again with the dreams. Right over there was the maneuver of a lifetime and I missed it. Oh, I saw it, but not as closely as I could have and now the incident hurts deeply. Maybe I’ll just go over there and ask, afterward the only likely result being the soil. I have rarely asked. The mustard always gets in the way. Sense attempts, but the mustard dictates. The wind pays no mind. Knives. I can’t say much anymore. Everything is coded and veiled. The filing cabinet inside my head is beginning to buckle under the pressure of so much information. My behavior has changed some, too. Just a little, but enough. The change has been to the negative side of things. That’s what happens after being squished. People will just have to live with the alterations I have made along with those still underway. I am not happy. There was something... Over there. I saw a little bit, but the light level and other interference combined to hinder my method of vision and I missed something wonderful. I can’t talk about it and the feelings are fucking killing me. Mustard, yet again, has foiled everything and left me a ball of desire with zero recourse. I did not do this. And now the mood dictates a change. The time has come for ‘we’ rather than ‘I’. ‘Us’ in favor of ‘me’. Live with it. We are driven toward the worst goals. We are on the edge of destroying everything through the hidden philosophy of evil. It is in there, deep. We are close to losing control and denying circumstances. We need her more than anything – the feelings which are seemingly permanently elusive – and the more time that passes, the more we see just how far away she actually is. And then anger. And then coldness. And then whatever else we can flex, and that is not much at all. We are powerless for all intents and purposes, and the only real power left inside is knowledge. We are not in a position to do anything with it, though. More anger is the result of such a realization. Anger. The slim positive is that the anger recedes a bit when we see her because she is unrelated and unaware, most likely for the rest of time. We will be dead and she still will not know. She cannot know. Dead before or dead after is still dead. And we need her anyway. The cavern is lonely. Sad. Dark. Cold. We do not know which way to turn anymore. She is not there; she is elsewhere and looking delicious. Elsewhere, though. We can do nothing about this shit. Elsewhere, like all the other shit. The maneuver of a lifetime, as if she knew and tossed a vision solely for our benefit and subsequent fall. Now there is nothing we can do. Nothing. We stare at the dress and imagine something inside, all warm and lovely. But no one is there. And? No one is anywhere. Nothing. No one. A gross bastardization of love and affection; the reverse, to be sure. Quite the reverse... Barren; cold (again); mustard. Black. Blackness everywhere; warmth nowhere. She is not there. She is not here. And we need her. Down we go. ‘Into the abyss I’ll fall; the eye of Horus.’ We go. The old keywords barely apply to us now. They are becoming as irrelevant as life itself and have been replaced... Power. Rejection of authority. Manipulation. Violence. Disgust with societal norms. There is only one direction left, and it is nothing we imagined a few years ago. This is not a physical direction, nor is it a standpoint aimed at people. It is within. We have explored and learned. We have come to understand our place. We have created this place with the assistance and reckless disregard at which those fucking people excelled. They have been expert in their movements; brilliant with the snowstorms. No more. We have to find it; we will find it, eventually, and then more alterations will take place than a seamstress can perform in a lifetime. Negative plane actions; frozen mindsets; walls larger than life. They will all come to pass. The cavern? Set ablaze at long last. This direction has been mapped and railed by those people. Them. Believe it. We have finally had enough. Squished. The battle, ongoing. The end, not far. The realization, stark. The pain, acute. This is the line. We have been hearing it for decades. We no longer find reason to listen. They can go away or waste time, the choice being obvious. Our preference matters not because we are now in a place bereft of chance. There is only one way; one set of rails left. There is no turning, ever. The rails dictate. We died on those rails. Believe it, we already know of their power and influence. The others will see both soon enough. Us? We will relish. We’ve heard it for years. Now the time has come for us to do the talking. Beware, and remain mindful of the fact that these words carry only micrograms of representation for what we are truly feeling inside. Nearly nothing. We must do the talking. There is no other way. Blister the timeline; blast the shit; forsake everything. Leave the others behind. Leave them out. Let them wonder. We no longer care; not even a little. Knives? Probably not. We no longer feel the need for physical weapons. The sentient weapons have already caused enough damage to alter our stance and cement the mindset that the enemies know no end to their attempts at derailing us. The sinful realm is filled with sex and suicide; the inevitable fall has been stopped. The latin is now finished. We already know. They do not. They will never know because every single fucking syllable has been forfeit. Deprivation. Ice. Mystery. The knives can remain sheathed. You caused the birth of this. You did it. Now live with rotting fruits of your labor."
Caverns and Wind V (Squish)
Mature content No. 376 Published May 26th,2023 9:46am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"I need comfort. Today is Thursday, May 25th and I was supposed to roll across the bay with my old boss to look at a problem. Early this morning, though, I changed my mind due to feeling anxiety. As soon as I canceled, all of the concern fell away and I was much more comfortable. I need to keep such things in mind in the future so as to avoid the need to cancel anything. Not only did I awaken due to being nervous, but two dreams caught me upside the head, as well, and both were strange and uncomfortable. I remember some details even hours later. Hmm. Fortunately, there were no visions or anything of the like. I don’t know what today is going to entail. Hopefully, the anger from last night will not return to my heart. I felt so much pain yesterday... No more, please. I don’t enjoy being angry. The blue dress will not respond well to my bad moods, and it is empty. Mustard. Knives. I am unhappy sitting here and in dire need of a certain type of comfort. I just need the fucking comfort. Please help me. She was there and now she is not, but I still see everything. I wanted to wrap her in the dress and ensure she remains warm in this place. Rewrite? No way. Partial? Maybe. My grandfather had a partial and when we were young he would let it slip out a little just to give my sister and me the willies. So funny. That is not the same partial, though. Maybe just that girl’s pants partially off? I need to see everything... Trace, caress, love. Everything. All of her lines. There are no lines in the dress. It is filthy, too. All the wind... Blue dress. Wind. Water. Filthy. Where did she go? Can I see her again? Will she smile at me? Will her eyes still be neutral? I need to see her. I also need to see more of her. This is going to make me angry, just like all those occasions of the ‘squishing’ – yes, all the way back to the beginning of the glow. I don’t enjoy feeling so bad all the time. There needs to be some relief once in a while, but lately those moments are shrinking as quickly as my future chances of being comfortable. Maybe I’ll see her with that silly expression. Maybe not. I can’t talk about it. Not much, anyway, and I can’t even say why. This is very difficult. Something may happen soon. Something. That’s all I can say. Trust me, you don’t want to know the details. The blue dress will be floating back and forth on its hanger, beckoning me to touch the lines. HER lines. Something may happen, much like the other day when I was floored and then missed the opportunity of a lifetime. I still don’t understand... Why did she do that? Was it directed at me, or simply a matter of comfort? I hope she does it again, too. I need a repeat as badly as I need oxygen. Wind and water will dictate the path, just like those mountains and glaciers. LInes there, too. Lines everywhere I look, even inside the fucking cavern. I had a gun in one of the dreams. I fell down and everything I had been carrying ended up all over the ground, after which people gathered around me. The feeling was akin to being some kind of outlaw. I was not happy about them staring, either. I felt angry and yelled for everyone to move away and leave me alone. One guy helped me pick up my things and regain a touch of composure. Everyone else slowly retreated, too. I may have been next to an RV of sorts because I seem to remember feeling the need to flee the area and there was a vehicle present. I can’t know for certain now, unfortunately. I don’t know who I was or why the gun was present. Very confusing, rather like trying to understand how that girl can pull at me with so much power. Ugh. And... Ugh. I need comfort. No more squish, please. Leave it alone. I have already been hurt enough for a lifetime. I need comfort to offset all this other shit over which I have no control. That would be a big offset, as well. Believe it. If the dress can survive all this time in the cavern with harsh weather, I can find some way of residing where I so badly need. The fetal position, just like many years ago. She was right there. And then another. And then another. On and on it went. I need that right fucking now so the dress can live out life as it should. I’ve been in enough pain, thank you. Plenty. God damn fucking hell do I ever want to... Knives, for the tenth time. Knives in my brain. I caught a glimpse. Knives. Water. Mustard. Loss. Thighs. I will not be unwise. More lies. Try them on for size. Slender, this is true. Slender. Need. Want. Nothing. I have nothing, she has power. I don’t know what I’ll be able to accomplish today. Having canceled the trip this morning, I gave myself lots of time to do whatever seems best (or comfortable). All I have to do is get her form and flowing hair the hell out of my fucking head, and the day can progress. Dress. No success. God bless? No less. I can show her... Everything is dark now. BREASTS. Right there, never here. All square? Full of fear. I can show her. I’d die if she showed me. Why did she do that? I saw but did not see near enough. I saw a little, and then my weakened, pathetic brain computed that somewhere inside her pretty head was the intention to allow me a glimpse, yet I was not prepared. Scared. I could swear... Right over there. Oh, that hair. Beware, my dreams can scare. Aware? Nowhere. I’ll work on something or whatever today, I guess. The typical mid-morning motivation is being tempered by daydreams of comfort; that magical place I have not visited for years. The thoughts keep violating space better reserved for productivity. I can’t do anything about them, however, because the power inherent in my needs has been amplified over the years and there is simply no way of squishing it anymore. I am in pain at this very moment and I want her to hold me and state that everything will be ok because she UNDERSTANDS. There it is... Right in the middle of the cave... The words which govern everything I do. I can wrap her in the dress – all flowing blue and soft – and then the world would right itself in an instant. Lovely. Soft. Beautiful. Blue. Mustard in my head. Maybe I should go to bed. Feeling partially dead. Instead? Paint it all red. Paint it with anger. I need all of her all over all of me. Remember? I am a basket case and worse with each passing day. The past continues to rise and cause me pain, and as time rolls along the rails, the nature of being closed off and knowing nothing is out there (no HER) increases the severity of the pain. Every fucking new day is exactly like the last. I might end up in this fucking cavern forever. Right there, sometimes. She is right there. Sometimes. I saw that maneuver and lost my shit. Was it for me? Not likely. The wind of my life will never shift again. This is all there is to be... One direction; no turns. I need to wrap her in the dress and I rarely like dresses or skirts. Some are ok; pants outweigh. No way? Okay. When I see Saundra, I want to gently rest my head on her chest. Every time, too. I want more, but that would be enough. Maybe she fits the dress? Eh... I have no guess. What a mess. Round and round; from here to there, Zero pulls equally, I swear. Drink the wine; prove the love, Show her there is nothing above. SHOW HER. The cavern is cold. I need her arms. I am in pain. Sadness prevails yet again. I need her so badly that I can’t fucking see straight most days. Clarity is ruined nearly all of the time because my head is clouded with visions and desire so strong it could alter the nature of the universe if set free. If a moment comes along, it will be ruined like all the rest because I am too far detached from reality. I will remain in this place forever. The dress? It stays put as a reminder of all that has been burned away in this life. There she is again... Saundra. Those big, beautiful eyes could help me, but alas none of that can be real. The only remaining thought is to worship her tenderness and demonstrate my appreciation of her as a woman. That’s all. No big deal. Softness and warmth. I need comfort. Ugh... Nothing. This cavern will remain cold and damp. I will remain in pain and full of sadness. The dress cannot help. It is empty. I am covered in mustard. Salmon? I don’t know. Gold, too. Purple. One year back and I lost my mind. One year ahead and I lost my mind. Five years? Holy fucking shit, Batman... My brain melted at the darkness and colors. Purple? Maybe. And then Saundra and her bulging breasts. Purple. The dress is blue. I am blue. There was salmon, for sure. Black. Gold. Big eyes. Windows. A view of the world going by, just like what I see every fucking day. I am squished again. I need a demonstration, but where is it? Can I? Will I? No answers, just colors. I want to slather the world in mustard. Fuck everything. I don’t need this shit.
Not happy; not entirely angry. Just not happy. The planet will not slow or cease its rotation due to my problems, either. I am no one. A tiny soul with a keyboard and penchant for typing, nothing more. My voice does not seem to matter anymore. I have become overly weak and sensitive; likely entirely too much for one person. Am I a person? Ugh. The dress remains empty as a result of every fucking thing I’ve tried for many years. Empty and blue, covered in mud and mustard. The trees pay no mind because they are similarly dying. The cavern is beginning to feel like home. All I need is a pizza and a television. I will die in this place. Thankfully, this is only the fifth visit in less than two and a half years. There will be more, and eventually I will not be able to leave. At least I know as much. Mustard and mud. I’ve been sliced to ribbons in this life. I need something to be different. What? No answer. No idea. No power. Only pain. Sometimes when a topic bothers me, I will research it on the Internet to learn if there are others in the world who feel as I do. As of yet, there have been damned few occasions of finding just that. The only result is not learning, but an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach which requires a massive shift in circumstances in order for me to find any semblance of comfort again. I am referring only to the physical type. Inside my head and heart, true comfort is far too elusive anymore. If I could sit here and press one button which would immediately annihilate all of human society, these would be my last words. Believe it. Human beings are the scourge of the planet. Disagree? You are one of them and don’t know it. Fuckhead. Come to this cavern and I’ll demonstrate true sadness. Bury yourself here along with everyone else. Nothing good is on the horizon. And there is Michelle again with her sympathetic, understanding tone and loving manner. God fucking damn this cavern, too. I see her eyes and hear her voice and then wish that she was here with me. Michelle knew. She just fucking KNEW. The girl could lay rest to two problems and maybe even put on the dress. Bless her. She is one of two, the other being Fiona nearly five seasons from now. That kind of caring may not actually exist in reality, but then again, is there anything I need that is actually real? Aside from part of the routine, I’ve been in this chair for roughly five hours today. Compulsion is a negative term, and I am the fucking poster child. Forever searching. Never ending. Never happy. I need comfort. God damn it all to hell... I need comfort. Mustard everywhere. Water. Mud. The color of the dress is barely apparent. None of it will stop. I need her. I need her to tell me everything will be alright. Nothing else in life is as powerful a need, and the roots of such dire feelings were created by none other than me. Oh, there have been strikes against me – squishing, posturing, pain and the like – but the fact remains that I need her because I created such a woman. Maybe I’ll drown in the mustard and mud and then no one will have to hear my shit anymore. My feelings don’t matter. Platitudes. Placation. Squishing, all the while. Believe it. I already know. Mustard. I need her in this cavern with me. We can hide ourselves away forever, much like Andrea and me in Florida all those years ago. Oh, God... What a fucking dream. I need her with me, here. NOW. I don’t want to continue on the same path with nothing and no happiness. I fucking need her in here with me so badly that I can barely see straight. I am unconcerned about the wind. Rails again. Rails before me; rails behind me. The line may have been straight this entire time, all the way back to the first shit situation that still brings me pain every day. Straight. The line is akin to that long run into the resort when Julie and I blew up everything. I wish I could do the same at this very moment. I also wish I could see her face again (along with the rest of that little beauty). She helped, always, and then died for it. That type of girl was good for me, and I hope I was the same toward her. I don’t know if anything like that will ever transpire in my future, yet the train is always apparent. Rails. Nothing else matters anymore. Well, the mustard matters. This day is going nowhere, much like the rest of my life. I need her. Today is Friday and I need her to tell me a few things. No, not the lovely little Julie, but the other one. Oh, any number of forms, honestly. There is rarely a limit to my imagination. This morning I have been picturing hurtful situations again and then watching them morph into blissful consequences right before my eyes. The power of memory cannot be overstated. I just need what I need, and the fact that such needs are so far out of balance these days, well... Read the older shit, I guess. Don’t provoke the knives. This is not a good morning so far. I have coffee, but also I am seeing the empty dress swinging in the wind and there is nothing I can do about it. If she were here with me, the dress could find a purpose. The mud could be removed. The future could come along sans knives. My head is beginning to haze over right now, too. Thoughts are becoming disjointed. And the blue is paired with orange for a moment. Pulled back. Smiling. Adorable. I need her. Yes, her. No, not the other one. Just the one I mentioned. Follow along. There was orange and blue and I began to lose my way on this page. Orange and blue. Adorable. Warm. Right over there, yet still not over there like the other one. She pulls the most from me. There is a different blue now. Darker. Somewhere beyond the blue is all that shit I need so badly. Very badly. This is dire and I see the depth of my position every fucking day. Not a good morning. I really need her. Another dream. I was trying to escape some place with a few others and nearly succeeded. I can’t remember if we made it out of the place or died somewhere along the way. They had guns. I want to dream about her again. Alas... No control there. The bra strap. The kissing. The hand-holding. Above all? The knowledge that she understood. She was right there and my worries began to fade away as those eyes telegraphed everything I’ve waited years to hear. Everything. Maybe she could have helped the dress, too. I don’t know. I missed the maneuver and it still hurts me. I missed it. Rarely have I seen the screen behind the fucking mirror, too. I am desperate to see more than I have, yet still the entire topic and all related ideas are off-limits as regards the site. I could probably describe what she did – much like conveying the appearance of that woman at the goddess market when she tugged at the waistline of her yoga pants – but nothing I say can ever get across the feelings inside me knowing there was a sliver of previously unknown information revealed right before my sad, desperate eyes. I missed out on something wonderful. These days, anything standing out from the din is extremely rare. I saw from a distance. That is all. Now I can’t reconcile myself with such facts. I am a basket case. Um... More than ever. Right there. Over by the other place, too. Ugh. I am sitting here miserable and sad yet again. The mornings are always wide open to whatever I need to do, mostly just gathering thoughts and placing them on the screen, yet the real need continues to evade even my strongest wishes. I need her and I need more. Maybe too much. I never wanted this shit. Black. Ah... And then the other color... Brown. Fucking hell. Cute beyond words. The dress is blue so there will be no clashing. Wow, I’d like to... Knives. What does that mean? Nothing to anyone but me. The cavern will continue. Water, wind, mud and mustard... Everything detrimental (wasn’t that the previous entry?) to my well-being and comfort in life, what there is left of it. She has all of the comfort. She owns it. I need her to share. Payment upon receipt of said comfort. She does not know. No one does. And then over there... I saw more. Not much, but more than last month. Dark. Smiling. Mysterious. Down we go. Again with the dreams. Again with the dreams. Right over there was the maneuver of a lifetime and I missed it. Oh, I saw it, but not as closely as I could have and now the incident hurts deeply. Maybe I’ll just go over there and ask, afterward the only likely result being the soil. I have rarely asked. The mustard always gets in the way. Sense attempts, but the mustard dictates. The wind pays no mind. Knives. I can’t say much anymore. Everything is coded and veiled. The filing cabinet inside my head is beginning to buckle under the pressure of so much information. My behavior has changed some, too. Just a little, but enough. The change has been to the negative side of things. That’s what happens after being squished. People will just have to live with the alterations I have made along with those still underway. I am not happy. There was something... Over there. I saw a little bit, but the light level and other interference combined to hinder my method of vision and I missed something wonderful. I can’t talk about it and the feelings are fucking killing me. Mustard, yet again, has foiled everything and left me a ball of desire with zero recourse. I did not do this. And now the mood dictates a change. The time has come for ‘we’ rather than ‘I’. ‘Us’ in favor of ‘me’. Live with it. We are driven toward the worst goals. We are on the edge of destroying everything through the hidden philosophy of evil. It is in there, deep. We are close to losing control and denying circumstances. We need her more than anything – the feelings which are seemingly permanently elusive – and the more time that passes, the more we see just how far away she actually is. And then anger. And then coldness. And then whatever else we can flex, and that is not much at all. We are powerless for all intents and purposes, and the only real power left inside is knowledge. We are not in a position to do anything with it, though. More anger is the result of such a realization. Anger. The slim positive is that the anger recedes a bit when we see her because she is unrelated and unaware, most likely for the rest of time. We will be dead and she still will not know. She cannot know. Dead before or dead after is still dead. And we need her anyway.
The cavern is lonely. Sad. Dark. Cold. We do not know which way to turn anymore. She is not there; she is elsewhere and looking delicious. Elsewhere, though. We can do nothing about this shit. Elsewhere, like all the other shit. The maneuver of a lifetime, as if she knew and tossed a vision solely for our benefit and subsequent fall. Now there is nothing we can do. Nothing. We stare at the dress and imagine something inside, all warm and lovely. But no one is there. And? No one is anywhere. Nothing. No one. A gross bastardization of love and affection; the reverse, to be sure. Quite the reverse... Barren; cold (again); mustard. Black. Blackness everywhere; warmth nowhere. She is not there. She is not here. And we need her. Down we go. ‘Into the abyss I’ll fall; the eye of Horus.’ We go. The old keywords barely apply to us now. They are becoming as irrelevant as life itself and have been replaced... Power. Rejection of authority. Manipulation. Violence. Disgust with societal norms. There is only one direction left, and it is nothing we imagined a few years ago. This is not a physical direction, nor is it a standpoint aimed at people. It is within. We have explored and learned. We have come to understand our place. We have created this place with the assistance and reckless disregard at which those fucking people excelled. They have been expert in their movements; brilliant with the snowstorms. No more. We have to find it; we will find it, eventually, and then more alterations will take place than a seamstress can perform in a lifetime. Negative plane actions; frozen mindsets; walls larger than life. They will all come to pass. The cavern? Set ablaze at long last. This direction has been mapped and railed by those people. Them. Believe it. We have finally had enough. Squished. The battle, ongoing. The end, not far. The realization, stark. The pain, acute. This is the line. We have been hearing it for decades. We no longer find reason to listen. They can go away or waste time, the choice being obvious. Our preference matters not because we are now in a place bereft of chance. There is only one way; one set of rails left. There is no turning, ever. The rails dictate. We died on those rails. Believe it, we already know of their power and influence. The others will see both soon enough. Us? We will relish. We’ve heard it for years. Now the time has come for us to do the talking. Beware, and remain mindful of the fact that these words carry only micrograms of representation for what we are truly feeling inside. Nearly nothing. We must do the talking. There is no other way. Blister the timeline; blast the shit; forsake everything. Leave the others behind. Leave them out. Let them wonder. We no longer care; not even a little. Knives? Probably not. We no longer feel the need for physical weapons. The sentient weapons have already caused enough damage to alter our stance and cement the mindset that the enemies know no end to their attempts at derailing us. The sinful realm is filled with sex and suicide; the inevitable fall has been stopped. The latin is now finished. We already know. They do not. They will never know because every single fucking syllable has been forfeit. Deprivation. Ice. Mystery. The knives can remain sheathed. You caused the birth of this. You did it. Now live with rotting fruits of your labor."
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