Crushing Blow V

my psychologist says i need to keep a journal concerning the events of my life and my face. so i am gonna try to write everyday. this is going to be more than just a blog, this is going to be unfiltered expose. if you disrespect what i write i will kill you. i am not talking about critiquing what i write, that is fine, but if you disrespect me or my friends or the open wound i am going to display i will hunt you down and do to you the things i only imagine. i will take out the violence of the places i have been and the places i am doomed to go. now you are warned. don't fuck with what i am about to lay down, you can comment, you can love, you can sharpen me as iron sharpens iron, but i swear to everything that is holy and everything damned if you cross me in the way i have outlined you will feel the hell that i live in.

let's begin.

i am dangerous, i am a danger to myself and those around me. i walk a tight rope over perilous fires. the danger is this, when the pain comes i turn into the essence. unlike my common life as vice lord of punk rock destruction and articulate member of the rebellion when i transition into the essence i turn. the essence is the place where evil spawns and good people go to die. i have to wear a goofy hat every where i go, trying to keep the wind from my face. the hat itself hurts but not as much as the breeze/gale always blowing in colorado winter. we will get to the absence of vice here in just a few, more about my recent trek to walgreens. i went to refill my scrip which now costs $20 instead of $13, fucking drug companies. fucking profit. as i walk the aisles waiting for the line at the counter to die down i turn. i wonder if i can drink a gallon of bleach, i notice they put the knives right next to the bleach. good move idiots. i think about killing everyone in the store except the guy in the texas hat and the disabled man. i know i wouldn't enjoy everyone's blood running at my feet but i believe it may help rescue them. as i am checking out i lie to the woman working the register, i tell her i work at Kodak, graveyards. the disabled man mentions he knows someone who works there i chat with him about it. lie lie lie. he buys it and it makes his night, he got to connect with the flow of mankind, he is a part of a whole because i lied. fuck who preaches as long as the voice of the One is preached. i fucking hate going outside, the wind hits my face and i want to run screaming inside.

i really want some vice right now. but i can't, no cigar, it has nicotine, no caffeine so no coffee or chocolate, no alcohol because of recent events, hell i couldn't even get an erection today when i tried to rub one out. no fucking vice. no healing, no peace. i take countless drugs, i get shots in my face, i do everything to reinforce the safety nets and fences i have to be corralled in, i am wearing thin. my head is pounding, my face is the hell in the dark. me and my buddy G. talk about sinner's heaven. i will get there someday, but until then i stay in saint's hell. i know earth has no injury heaven can't heal - i can go there any time i want but i am afraid if i punch my own ticket on that train i can't ride. i will have to wait it out in the station with all the other kids who drank the gallon of bleach.

yesterday one of the girls at work told me she knows i could be a serial killer. oh what she doesn't know. i want to do things to people that i can't describe, think about the cenobites in hellraiser then add the dash of humanity i would bring. pinhead didn't cry as he educated and enlightened. i would weep as the bodies stacked. i am not sure about tomorrow. but i know about right now. i am not hurting anyone right now, at least i hope i'm not. the violence that portols through the right side of my face is the violence in the garden and the violence on the hill. the violence i want to crush materialism and pop television with. horrible horrible things. are there hidden gems? yes am i going to find them. i don't know, i know there is gold in them hills but every swing of the pick turns up dirt and fools gold.

i think about blood letting, i wonder if acupuncture would help. marijuana, lsd, letting a good friend just knock me out every day with a strong right cross to the center of my disorder. the cheapest surgery price i found is $65k, add to that anesthesia and then hospital stay. an insurance 80/20 split leaves my little family with $20k of debt that would be hard to roll with. i feel horrible about the shit A. has to go through because of this, she is sitting next to me right now and i hope she is and is not reading this. i feel like hell that she is trapped with me in this disease. it only shows her unwavering devotion and love. i don't even know why i am so loved. she is the voice of the One when i am being crushed, G. shows up and keeps the raging fires of brimstone shared and unburdened from me. the One is with me via the people i am with. the One is in heaven and on the earth both places at once and with out error. everywhere and nowhere all at once. brilliant. i am trying to give up on asking why. why is an empty dead end alley of thought, i wish i was more like one of our hybrid dogs. they don't ask why and they take things day to day. some day i will probably be able to do this with out having to process actively. someday but not today.