beunafraidmychildren

keep watching the light

for there is hope waiting for you


await me

-sunset

Death Changes Everything

So, two days ago, the twenty fifth, was the day I found out about my friend's demise, from the so-called sunset.

There's always a certain kind of shock that accompanies the discovery of a friend's death.  Seemingly sharper, harder to comprehend, than any other shock.

I don't know how, but somehow I knew, in the back of my damaged mind, that I would neither die nor confront my elusive tormentors on that fateful day.

I do not like how my story is shaping up, so to speak, so I think I will write a new ending.  I resolve to end my life, one last spiteful act against the demons who invade my mind.

Fuck you, sunset, for I will not play your games, nor will you be able to force me to participate.  Neither will you, unseen, diabolical voices.

Fuck it all and fucking no regrets.

thetimehaspassed

your friend is dead

look behind you agent.

maybe you'll find a body strung up on the horizon

what do you feel?

-sunset

It's Almost Over Now

I see their writing on the wall.  "Four days," it says.  December twenty fucking fifth.  I don't know what they're planning, but I won't give them the fucking satisfaction.  This will probably be my last post.  Tomorrow is a fine day to die.  So, voices, I have one last thing to say to you:

You can all just fuck off and die.

Tears Of A Dead God

This is purgatory..it has to be. In all my years of working for this place I never imagined i'd see something as foul, as..death-like as this.


Oh god, Anathema, please be alive for I fear we may no longer be.

I jumped off the cliff only to wake up in the middle of a foggy village-type place..graffiti all over the walls that I can't read, but it's sending messages to my head so i'll bet it's those Quiet fuckers again.

Quiet..heh..ironic name..

Continuing my search for him..but one last thing

I can't feel my hands anymore


Comfortably Numb
-Phoenix

At the Heart of the Winter

Snow falls all around me, and with it, any hope I once had flees into oblivion.  I found safety in this loneliness,  but I cannot stand it anymore.  I am slowly accepting my inevitable demise in this forsaken, icy mockery of a city.  Anything that resembles my sanity has broken, leaving me a mindless wretch, begging to be freed.

I still hear them, those infernal voices that brought me to this hellish domain.  Or maybe I don't, and my mind is even farther gone that I think it is.  Worse still, what if I am hearing them, but my mind is yet still farther gone than I hope?

Following this train of thought, what if these months I've spent wandering silent, foreboding streets were all in my mind, and none of this is real?  If this is the case, then I presume it to be impossible to save me from my shattered sense of reality.

I see writing on the exterior wall of some unnamed, unnumbered building.  It is in a language I've never seen before, but, if I look at it for long enough, I get the feeling that it says that "you will find us soon."  I suppose I can force myself to survive for a little while longer, as I, though I beg for death, am determined to find the reasons why I am exiled to this unspeakable shadow of a realm.

I will find you, and you will not be able to hide the truth from me.

So show yourselves, cowards, and face your deaths with dignity.

how cute, you think you can fight us