Les Deux Orphelines Vampires (Jean Rollin, 1997)

Maybe this is my best

God I hate her

Please, may she be the end of me.

I don’t want it any other way

the page

pushed to the margins

abandoned with blue strips

forced against red lines that corner me

once white, now scribbled on carelessly

in deep black ink that smudges me

dents through all of me

find me a way to erase

to start again and hope to be apprepiated

that i can be the writer and not the page

It starts as a harmless poke to my shoulder. Never a serious matter for when I turn to question you, you respond with a bright smile and remind me that it is all friendly.

Your fingerprint begins to stain my shoulders and I turn to inquire your motivations. Quickly I am shut it down cause it’s nothing serious, just a nudge.

Times pass and the skin that you torment is bruising, the pain pulsates although out my body.

Your hand is tainted crimson with my ooze but still you address me with a smile, after all it’s just a nudge.

You burry your way through my skin and uncover the most fragile parts of my being. The foundation that I am built on is disrupted by your omnipotent presence that chips away at me.

I garner up the courage to question your antics as my bones begin to splinter.

But there is no body to restore me, I am spoilt beyond recovery.

Law Takes Precedence Over Might. 1873. School of Henri Lehmann German/French 1814-1882. oil/canvas.   http://hadrian6.tumblr.com

Television is not the truth. Television’s a god-damned amusement park. Television is a circus, a carnival, a traveling troupe of acrobats, storytellers, dancers, singers, jugglers, sideshow freaks, lion tamers, and football players. We’re in the boredom-killing business. So if you want the Truth, go to God! Go to your gurus. Go to yourselves! Because that’s the only place you’re ever gonna find any real truth. But, man, you’re never gonna get any truth from us. We’ll tell you anything you wanna hear. We lie like hell... And no matter how much trouble the hero is in, don’t worry. Just look at your watch. At the end of the hour, he’s gonna win. We’ll tell you any shit you want to hear.

We deal in illusions, man. None of it is true! But you people sit there day after day, night after night, all ages, colors, creeds. We’re all you know. You’re beginning to believe the illusions we’re spinning here. You’re beginning to think that the tube is reality and that your own lives are unreal. You do whatever the tube tells you. You dress like the tube, you eat like the tube, you raise your children like the tube. You even think like the tube. This is mass madness. You maniacs. In God’s name, you people are the real thing. We are the illusion. So turn off your television sets. Turn them off now. Turn them off right now. Turn them off and leave them off. Turn them off right in the middle of this sentence I am speaking to you now. Turn them off!

– Network (1976)

Fyodor Dostoyevsky // Alanis Morissette

i hate what you have made me into

resentment is filled within me to the brim. i was born into a family that hates themselves, now i am expected to bare the burden of healing or else all my pain means nothing. or else i will become my parents in my own childrens lives.

i hate that i was never given the opportunity to be unharmed, i wish my story wasnt so hard on my fragile soul, i wish i had no substance or empathy, i wish i was simple...

uncomplicated and obvious.

— dissociation

the book of disquiet by fernando pessoa // a breath of life by clarice lispector // againts the mass of the night by kaye donachie // how to dissapear completely by radiohead // normal people by sally rooney // rené magritte // virgina woolf // by me // enrico robusti

Im just always wrong

Everytime i try to do anything, help someone help myself, love… im wrong. I feel as if i will never get this life thing right. Im careless and i hate that about myself. I make so many mistake i question if i myself am one. Im scared i wont every get this right.

Ive criticised of everything that i do to the point where i even question waking up. What if im not doing it correctly. The dread i feel forcing myself out of bed because i know that during my day i will yelled at for doing something, anything. Criticised for trying again. I hate this all. I completely, whole heartedly hate it all. There is somehow always a problem with me. I cannot take it

If i were to ever take my life it is because i don’t think I’m doing it right. Something about me is terribly off, my death is a mere correction a flaw.

I know I’m being far too critical with myself but i cannot help it, I’ve been judged for everything i have tried. Knowing that i am certainly a failure why should i aspire to be more. Of course, i still have a dream, a desire to heal and love others but i fear that when i try to climb up ill fall at the worst time. A fall so high there would be maroon gore splattered everywhere, i might even knock off the person that climbs underneath me.

Killing us both.