Letters From The Psych Ward - 7th Apocrypha - Genesis
Chapterhouse: Caliban - 1:01
you keep saying you can’t feel anything
eventually your heart listens and your eyes play along
your voice goes flat and when you start to laugh,it quickly peters out—disappears
witness someone you used to love cry about you
all you can think about is how to scavenge enough money to fly to another country yet again
across the sea there might be something that has the power to make you alive once more.
Notes from the psych ward journals and beyond
BLOOD MAKES NOISE
the illusion of life’s importance is much more immersive when you’re in love
i would rather burn than rot
the devil in all cultures and their myths is essentially always a rebellious son, or a scorned woman. am i not both?
i wonder in how many places, small rooms, hidden corners,how many like me currently cocooned finding comfort in the cover of dark and quiet solitude?
“Good to be sick, good to be alone, good that it’s cold, good to stay inside, good that no one needs anything from me. Good to be me, good to be me!”
“For if we could be satisfied with anything, we should have been satisfied long ago.”
“You do anything enough, and you can get sick of it – particularly when you’re doing stuff to self-destruct”
i’m a fan of abrupt and ambiguous endings
“Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault.”
the worst of having a romance of any kind is that it leaves one so unro-mantic.
burning myself with a match, the pain is incredible, i cannot imagine how people die by self immolation
everything screams before it dies
it would be enough to know you think still about me sometimes
there’s something decadent about being in a state of such…undoing
i can’t take comfort in rock bottom meaning there’s only upwards momentum from here because of course, you could just move laterally too.
you can keep sliding along the proverbial rock layer that defines the bottom of it all
theoretically you can slip even further down, into the incendiary molten core and burn up into nothing
if you somehow survived that and maintained the trajectory, you maybe would shoot out of the other side of the globe, and maybe in that case you’d be rocketing upwards after all
but maybe you fall back down towards the center, maybe you just circle core burning up forever
anyway, i’ve started avoiding my reflection again
all of my memories like salt on a slug
i’ve lost genuine laughter, i don’t know how to explain it. i start to laugh and then immediately become aware of myself, the state of my life,that i have nothing to laugh about, that there’s nothing behind it, the sounds are ugly and im going to get the hiccups. all of these thoughts and more in the flash of a second it takes one or two HA HAs to be belted out and then i’m silent, my face drops or returns to a neutral position and it’s all over.
it’s a similar feeling to needing to sneeze and having the sneeze never quite manifest, or being close to cumming and then having it fade away.
i don’t like laughing anymore anyway.
the way blood seeps into and defines the texture of my skin
quite vulgar that the church is playing a patriotic song with its bells
“WELL BOB YOU KNOW WHAT I ALWAYS SAY, YOU CANT SPELL PSYCHOTIC WITHOUT “HOT” AND YOU CANT SPELL MANSLAUGHTER WITHOUT MANS LAUGHTER AHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAH BACK TO YOU CHIP!”
