Death Bloomed.

When I lost my Black Obsidian I started to feel strange. I didn't think anything of it but as time passed I started feeling stranger and stranger. The shadows seemed darker. The rediculous suggestions of aliens and angry spirits seemed more and more believable. The beat hammering through me was just making it worse. Pure anxiety and paranoia. Unable to escape from these feelings with my Dad totalled in the tent on lsd and pot.



I felt so alone. Everyone I spoke to seemed to be on a totally different level. The feeling was pure disconection. After a few hours of this and the bad vibes getting stronger I decieded to sit by my fire. Building it. Building it. Watching it start to die down and then building it some more. This process continued until the sun rose. Just as pink started to line the sky I began to have deep realisations of existance. Realisations that I cannot express.



The sun rose enough to see very well I saw a field. This field looked very pretty from where I was standing. So miss Conflicted, Experience and I decieded to go take a look. They were still tripping. By this point I was dead sober.



We walked down the slope and reached a small barbed wire fence. Miss Conflicted went over first. The hairs on the back of my neck were already standing up. It was my turn to go over. I really didn't want to but at the same time I felt as though I had to. It was then Experience's turn to get over the fence. She climbed over and we started walking. She then started backing away and wanted to get back to the doof. I guess she could sense the bad vibes too. But we convinced her to stay. I started to feel incredibly animal. This weird primative feeling. Like I could smell fear and sense danger and this really fucked up dark feeling beyond anything I had ever felt.



Miss Conflicted and I started running through this field, zig zagging, laughing, bumping into each other. It was all smiles. Smiles of insanity, we should not have been there. We where some what crazed. Pulled our selves together and kept walking. We saw this fluffy thing a little in the distance. I walked up to it and saw what it was. The corspe of a mutilated white rabbit. Only then did I realise that we were walking over mountains of shit. Everywhere I looked, shit covered the ground. Shit.. and hundreds of little dead animal bodies?

We kept walking on. The vibes just getting worse and worse. We reached the second fence and climbed over. I walked 10 steps at most before I felt certain that if I continued I would die. I saw something.. moving.. in the distance. So I turned and ran. I didn't look back until I was over the first fence, even then it was a look of fear.

Lava lamp malfunction.

I lit this cigarette. Now I have 10 left. That is excatly half. Does that happen to mean I am half way through what it was I was doing?
I don't know. Anymore.
Aparently it is time to go back to 4H. Let them pump me full of all kinds of wonderful brain poison.

You see, they don't understand The Blue or Exitland or the castle with the ocean and grass or my nimbus cloud made of bread that is prone to breakage.
See, here, when you strangle someone there, their throat has the consistency of playdough.
So soft and precious. But see, when you fucking snap it, there is no fucking snap, it's just this sloppy sound of the skin-dough hitting the grass.
Shine on. Sleep on. Shine forever in this sleep.

STOP FUCKING SHRINKING I ALREADY HYDRATED YOU. WHY WONT YOU JUST ABSORB IT AND FUCKING LIVE?!

To scale size of my finger. Stop shrinking.
This feeling is deep set. I am awake in my dreams. I am fucking lucid.

How many more times can it be tarnished before it will never shine again?
In there, they wont understand. They don't know how to shine. Blood stained, tarnished and orange, lying on my floor. It would be better if it was made of grass or bricks.

Put it to your mouth, tear off the end with your teeth, see, it tears off just fine and neat if you bite it on the perferated line. Sparks fly from the flint and metal. Now, suck.
9 left. 9 out of 10. 10 out of 20. 20 from a thin card board box. The box that cost you $9.43. Those cheap fucks round it to $9.45 because aparently every cent counts in this crisis.

Back to 4h where they wont let me have my box or my fix.
9 left.

455 stresses per serve.

I watch it desintegrate and decay. I watch myself in the mirror as I pull off this skin, this mask. Shred it up with a cheese grater. Never again will I "dable in the scenery", as I like to call it. It caused me to forget why I am here. I am not here to please some christian, fake, scene, player bitch in skinny leg jeans and a fringe used to hide the ugly truth. I am not here to be changed. I am here to change the fucking world.

This world..
I sit on the train every night and I look at Perth's population under an ugly yellow light. I watch people's hands. Their facial expressions. The thousands of hours behind their frequently more hollow eyes. Funny how the ones with the deepest frowns are usually the ones with a ring on their left hand.

The beings on the train stare straight through each other. Being in such a close vercinity to them all fills me with pan awful feeling. For me, catching the train is like visiting a friend in the psych ward. It's horrible to see but you still feel as though you have to. I can't help but read into their lives, look into their eyes and see how much they have seen, how much they hurt. I want to help but, would they listen to me? No..
Empathy turns to disgust and I feel it is time to start hacking blindly with a machete.

This world isn't happy. Or maybe it's just me.

We stare at broken clocks, the hands don't turn anymore.

It is a strange and tainted morning. My face is still swollen and sore from the unknown cause of impact. Most likely a fist. I feel as if I have fallen down a flight of stairs or two. The soft morning light turns to a harsh overload of uv rays to remind me I have to hurry. Have to get ready. Have to leave my house for another pointless day of social interaction.


This roads leads to emptyness and nothing more than that.





I wait.



Now it is nothing more than a cold, surreal night.



Time stands still and I stand alone. Alone in our garden, filled with roses growing through the branches of hollow trees. The garden with the pool. That pretty pool with the leaves floating on the water. The sun wont rise and it wont set either. Nothing could put the solar system back the way it was suppost to work. When time fails to separate events, time fails to exist at all.
I fail to exist.

The weekend that mutilated my mind.

It's an autumn evening and I find myself filled with empty dreams.
Drifting through a sea nothing so are we even drifting at all? Drifting or standing still, still in a still time.
Head down ready to work at your brand new school desk,
Or, face down ready to fuck on your brand new bed.
We are in a state of repetition, people.
Every moment that has previously been experienced only exists within your mind.
I'm not real unless you're in my bed, isn't that right Mr.24?
Oh and yes, I did sabotage it.

"I love you

So much"

Fuck off and die.
Fuck off and die.
Fuck off and die.

I wish I never stumbled across your path at 4am that fucking disgusting night but there would be a part of me missing if I never did.

Okay, so it all starts with this flower right, back when I hated kids like you, the ones that hung around the city, with tight red jeans and multi-coloured hair. So I'm standing alone, speaking down the line of a pay phone in the mall and I noticed you out the corner of my eye. I had never seen you before.. You gave me a flower. You smilled at me and gave me a pretty little white flower. When was this, January, Febuary? I don't know. Some where around this time.

So about a month ago, I was all set for a big night out. Money, phone, cigarettes ect. We went to the liquor store and purchased a fuck ton of booze. On our way to a friends apartment in Northbridge we were aproached by Lebs, trying to role us of corse. We tell them to chill the fuck out and keep walking. After some time we are finally there.

Everyone is all fucked up and I start drinking like a fish. This is where my memory starts to become massivly impared. I step out into the stair well and there they are smoking pot. So I did the stupidest thing I could have done, have a few fucking cones. After this I remember falling down some stairs and breaking my finger. The pain didn't last long. I then remember walking past some cops trying not to stumble too much, they didn't give me a second glance.

I breifly remember jumping some fence behind a night club and falling on the ground, I was approached by four people, asking if I was okay. Oh and I was better than okay, I was fucking brilliant.

Blank.

I am in a car park drinking beer with some ravers, I remember seeing all of their flashy clothes.

Blank.

I realise I have lost my cigarettes.

Blank.

I am out side of a 24 hour Mcdonalds at god knows what time. This guy. I have seen him before tells me I should go with him. I say no as I fall on the floor. He leaves me alone. Then, someone scares the shit out of me and I decide to go down the mall. The guy from before runs up and grabs me, he knows my name. I do not know his name. Filthy scum. He grabs my arm and starts pulling me down the street.
" Where are we going?"
" Don't worry."
" I don't want to go."
" Yes you do."
" Please.."
But that was all I could do, I was too out of it to stop myself being dragged. We walked for what seemed like an eternity and I remember pissing agaisnt a wall on the side of some road.
Next thing I see is a big fence with barberd wire, he pulls at a gap in the fence and informs me that I need to shut the fuck up and climb in, I obey. I don't know why I obeyed..
We walk along some gravel and I fall over, hard. He rips me up off the ground and tells me to be verry quiet. He pulls away a grill from a wall and tells me to climb through, I didn't want to but I did it anyway. It wasn't untill I was inside that I realised where I was. I was in a fucking squat.
I start to cry and he holds his hand over my mouth.
" Shut the fuck up."
I am flung onto a filthy mattress covered in grime. It smells terrible in here.
This is where my memory gets extra hazey.
He put himself inside me..
I felt so sick. I stoped crying. Stoped breathing.
" Stop."
" Stop."

Blank.

Blank.

Blank.

I am crawling through the tunnel and flying through the fence as fast as I can. I cut my arms on the fence.
Blank.
I have reached an empty massive train station. I swear it went for miles. I dream about this place, so quiet and dark and empty.
I am the only person here. Of corse there are no trains, it's three am. I decide to walk down the train tracks. Finaly after what felt like hours I can see the city. I remember scaling the barbed wire fence and cutting myself on that too.

Blank

For some reason I walked right past the city and ended up at McIver train station. So I walked back in the direction of the city. I walked passed these crazed drunk aboriginal women and I pretended to be black and it worked. ( Hey, I was pretty fucked.)

On my way back to the center of the city I started sobbing but no tears would come out. I craved a cigarette so badly.

I stand outside 24hour maccas and start trying to scab smokes. I look at my clothes, they are torn to shreds.
I see two young guys walking down the street, so I decided to ask them when they walked past.
He said no and kept walking. Then he turned around and we recognised each other. He was the boy who gave me a flower so long ago. He gave me a smoke and we got chatting.
I breifly remember the taxi. I got in the taxi because I no longer cared what happened to my body, but thankfuly nothing more did.
The house was nice.
He saved me. Oh how he fucking saved me.

Mr.24 how you confuse me.
I can't even sleep in my bed anymore. You were there only nights ago.


I havn't had a night so intense since, nor have I been out at night. I havn't gone into many of the details but it was nessasary to write this anyway.

OMFG MY LIFE IS FULL OF EPIC WIN.

I feel like I've eaten 10 great pills every time I leave the house.

Nothing can stop this, it's just like the old days again. The days when I were happy are no longer a memory. Happy once again but of my own accord. I sit here having my morning coffee and charcoal filterd cigarette wearing a smile. I havn't slept but who cares?! I'm fucking happy so fuck you.

Sweet non-medicated happiness.
Sunrises look better when veiwed without glazed eyes.

I ran around laughing and yelling. I couldn't stop slapping my hands around. I couldn't stop talking. I am feeling dandy fucking fine.

DANDY FUCKING FINE.




I feel FUCKING GOOD.

Going Sober.

It is the morning of the 5th day and I havn't been sleeping much at all. But I think I am doing great. This a strange place as I lie on my bed next to you, watching my fan turn, listening to you mutter contently in your sleep. I question what beauty you dream of.

It's getting bareable. It's getting worse. I'm getting hot. I'm getting cold. Every emotion doesn't fail to hit me, but it hits with a stale blow. Like it's already been felt a thousand times before. Like a toy that has long lost it's novelty. Picking at the skin of my thumb as I ponder many thoughts I can't help but wonder if someone is watching me through the slits in my blinds.

I can walk a little better today. I only need one crutch instead of two because I am now able to put pressure on the side of my foot. This keeps my spirits high in the hopes of leaving the house in the next couple of days. This also lets me know it's time to test my will in resisting the drink of poor taste. It wont be much of a test because I already know the result. I will suceed.

This room has become my santiary and my own personal hell. It makes me feel protected and unreachable but it also provokes feelings of isolation and paranoia. But I need to be here. I need time to reflect. But this room, this house, it makes me notice things I'd rather happily ignore. They haved turned into zombies. Slaves to the pot. A slave to the 12 hour shifts she needs to keep their habbit thriving. He doesn't leave the house. He doesn't talk unless he is mumbling rubbish or explaining to my Mother how he disaproves of me as a person and how he wants me to move out. I can predict every movement, every move, every assumtion they make. Or maybe they're not even real. Maybe I live alone. Am I real? Am I dreaming?

I am doing good these days. I can think a lot clearer and as you can see, I'm writing again. 5th day sober is going to be a treat, Ms. Conflicted is coming to visit this afternoon. I hope the joy she bring wont feel stale. Stale like bread, not quite fresh enough to eat without toasting it but not past the point of comftable consumtion, it's not mouldy.

The fan appears to be spinning slower. Like a snail crawling across my ceiling. Your snores are deeper now, but you just woke up crying and I had to hold you until you fell into some kind of sleep. I don't mind though, because it's all I can do to help. You're ill too. Back at the keyboard I peel the skin off my lips and I wonder what my computer thinks of me. I wonder what will have become of my life by the end of this year. I wonder what my age will be when I die. It is predetermened so there has to be a way to find out when we die and well, everything.