6. Family

Believe it or not, I used to have a family. A mother, a father, a sister. I often forget that I lost them, I was so desperate. And equally as often I count the stars in the sky and wonder who among them are watching?

01010010 01001111 01010011 01000101 01010011 00100000 01000001 01010010 01000101 00100000 01010010 01000101 01000100

Is there really a point in narrating my own loss? Am I losing my grip? Maybe I'm just one of many copies of myself and the family I remember isn't even my own. How would I ever know?

01010100 01001000 01000101 00100000 01000011 01001100 01001111 01000011 01001011 01010011 00100000 01010100 01001001 01000011 01001011 01001001 01001110 01000111 00100000 01000010 01000001 01000011 01001011

Sometimes I see myself falling again, like the nightmare I suffered from forever ago. I feel myself gone, dashed against stones, and replaced with something new. God I wish I could elaborate my brain won't stop seizing. I looked into His eyes

01010100 01001000 01000101 00100000 01000111 01001100 01001111 01001111 01001101 00100000 01001000 01000001 01010011 00100000 01000101 01001110 01010110 01000101 01001100 01001111 01010000 01000101 01000100

He is nothing but everything, a black pinhole in the sky, a throbbing oozing black cyst on reality. A blight in spirit and physical. He is God unlike any other before

01000001 01001110 01000100 00100000 01000110 01000001 01000100 01000101 01000100 00100000 01010100 01001111 00100000 01000010 01001100 01000001 01000011 01001011

God, Liar of Opulence, Obsession of Malice

5. The Rot

When things die, they fall apart. Decay, rot, decompose. And in many different spaces, I have died. And there is no greater cage than a casket.

But what's worse, is when you rot standing up. I've always thought the concept of zombies was creepy. I couldn't imagine my body as a vessel for the hunger for brains. However I came face-to-face with not one, but two. In one of these spaces where my doppelgänger lies, I watched a horrific story unfold.

I was driven mad by yet another eldritch god-like figure. I remember wearing a mask and instantly being thrown into the backseat of my own mind. I was forced to do hideous things, and despite having been able to remove the mask on many an occasion, I felt empty. Wrong. I mimicked the personality of the mask to no avail. My only salvation was to mimic it; I stitched my mouth shut. Just like my mask. I offered myself and another mask as a sacrifice to this dark lord pulling at the strings of these masks.

I lit myself ablaze and threw myself and my sacrifice into the running river. Our bodies were found with the masks melted to the corpse. Charred and peeling, our bodies were sent to a morgue. But despite our souls having left those bodies, we moved. We stood right the fuck up and left. I can only assume the masks are piloting my cadaver to make whatever ends meet that they have.

Unfortunately, I had my own encounter. It lasted no longer than 3 minutes, but both my body and the sacrifice's body saw me. Became curious, and prayed to their dark lord for answers. I suppose they got them, because I have been seeing those masks everywhere I turn. Running for years from myself is a pretty niche genre, but here we are.

I just wish that was the only reason I'm back here writing again. 

P.S.  Fuck passwords, am I right?

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4. Haunting Myself

I see how long it's been since I made any sort of update, and I'd like to apologize. I say I'd like to, but I didn't plan on it. I've spent years trying to get these monsters off of my back, and in the process I've learned much about them. Unfortunately they aren't the real monsters I should be worried about.

It is myself.

Last year, I was cornered by the monsters and experienced something you might call a spiritual epiphany. I was whisked away to another broken place, much like my own. And in this space I saw myself, going through various phases of life. It was as if my life was flashing before my eyes, I believed at the time I was dying. But it was something far more sinister.

I saw various versions of myself, and they all ended up dead. One of my visages wore a bloodied mask, gore pouring out of the eyes and the mouth sewn shut as it was engulfed in flames. Even after the burning and the rotting the corpse still carried itself to serve a dark lord.

Another visage was thrown into a land devoid of all life, forced to be chased by his own aforementioned shadows, lurking behind masks.

Another visage was tormented by the same black-headed being as I, and ultimately became a sole survivor much like I. He is gone forever.

And then I was forced to relive my own waking nightmare, the likes of which you are already familiar and need no further explanation.

That brings us to the here and now. I am being manipulated by my own likeness, something darker pulling the strings. Something I cannot explain, as I haven't found any way to combat this dreary staccato. They come closer, I can feel them rending my mind. I can feel her potent, on my skin like sunshine devoid of light. Th eheat without the image.

Please stay tuned for updates. I will not allow myself to be caged again.

I should have said yes.

I could have helped stop this.

Now I'll be dead soon.

for you

boil under the skins

we are finding you

runs forever but waiting to will catch you

so much is fun

whens you have the bodies all over

the bodies seeing you again

have you are monster again please

its much to sharing

until

3. Munster

I used to blame myself for all of these terrible things that happened. Ever since I found the body of a friend in the pouring rain and a suicide note that blamed me. I used to blame myself for every single senseless death that occurred based upon the sole idea that because I was the only one alive, I was supposed to do something about it.

That was years ago, and I'm older now. I have a better understanding of the circumstances. And yet, I still struggle greatly with the blame. And They know that.

I met a kid named Blake. He was about 12 and homeless. I don't know at all what it was about me that he liked so much, but after seeing me steal a bit of food from a shitty grocery store, he asked to come with me. I promptly told him to fuck off, because anyone who's around me gets killed, but that didn't stop him. He followed me anyways.

We spent roughly five months together, and surprisingly this kid had his shit together. Knew how to pick locks, knew all this security shit that even I knew nothing about. My old strategy was just take food and book it. But now, we were able to get more food without being caught. I had no complaints. Five months and almost every night we had more food than we knew what to do with.

He gave me his life story, and I made up some bullshit lie about how I'd been kicked out of my apartment up in Maine and managed to make it down to wherever we were by hitchhiking and begging. He bought it. Things weren't too awful, and I started to look for any kind of legitimate work I could get. Living in shitty shacks under a bridge was getting pretty old.

But then something awful came in the night while both of us slept.

I don't know at all what happened. I woke up one night, my hands and arms were covered in blood. The skin on my hands were singed, which I only found out later. It was hard to make anything out with the dim light that our barrel fire was emitting. There was something on top of it that was slowly starting to catch fire.

When it did, I saw what They intended for me to find. Then I ran.

Blake was thrown onto the top of the barrel, his eyes and ears were missing. He was cut from the throat down to the groin, he was stuffed with something, maybe paper. When it caught fire, it lit up the wall and revealed a message written in blood. His eyes were hanging on both sides.















                                             LOOK   WAT
                                                    YOU           AGEN
                                                              DID 
                                                     M U N S T E R 














I didn't do that, you fuckers.