We Are All Dead

The true ultimate suffering is being forced to endure isolation.
Do you remember that pain you had? That pain you swore you never wanted to feel again? I feel it right now; I feel it move through me. Every day I feel it.

You have sentenced me to Hell, my king. Yes you, the one who is reading this.

Satan is here right now! Inside of me, pressing his fangs through my flesh and organs – spreading a plague of illness and misery, tainted with a corrosive black acid that is eating away at my soul.

This is no typical burning sensation; it is filled with a freezing sting that harvests my will and sanity so that Pan may transmute them into fear and pestilence.

I can see Satan in this room with me right now – he has come down off of his inverted cross, he has stepped down off of it. I wish you could see how beautiful it is; the cross is made of gold and covered in thick black soot. It is levitating; it is suspended in the air by voodoo.
The tongues he speaks I have never heard before, but I understand him perfectly. He will not speak in thoughts, but in emotions. All the words of primordial titans have been laid before my presence in clarity reflected only by diamonds – the knowledge of an undoing and a world not real.
I have become above and beyond the shackles of Earth. Everything revels itself as the dust it always was. No regret is heard in this lightless chasm as my feelings of eternal pain fall down into the pile of false experiences that never did happen.

Nothing to be heard, nothing to be remembered but a faint nod of approval that I have left nothing other than a world of pain, and that gateway shall be sealed for the rest of eternity – along with those souls in it too incompetent to deliver their empathy to the one who needed it most.

Deep within the catacombs underneath the palace of heaven, my blind eye will regain vision upon my death. For then I will be relinquished forth from bondage, and given the capacity for the next true choice: Which gateway shall I enter next in the halls of eternity? Which underworld will be the next that I shall call my home?

Which words of a dead maiden will afflict me next? The chapter of Rhea has ended, never to be incarnated again. Which chapter will consume me next? That of a phoenix? That of Gabriel? That of Nyx? A chapter of night?
What painful slaughter shall I awaken next down here in the valley beneath all things? What heaven shall I choose to hear the laughter of next? What angels of childhood will I be so privileged to have spit on me?

The dead dance backwards; backwards through space, and backwards through time. They do not know they are dead.

move toward flames of less degree.

Would you like a nice cold glass of ice water?
I could hold a cold compress to your head.
I might venture into this hell and sit with you awhile. Though i cannot relieve you of your pain, I can offer you some support and hold your hand awhile.
Just stay here as long as it takes. If you want, I will stay with you. I know this place well and I know just where to find you. Don’t move - I’ll be right there if you want.

Give a holler.

Holla back girl!

nice OP, well written with very good imagery and voice.

then i “dont have it yet”
i want my words to scare the shit out of people, and the only people who can relate to the words are flooded with comfort as they laugh maniacally with a simultaneous release of endorphins, serotonin, and epinephrine

i want to speak to fucked up masochists who fantasize about having their dicks cut off by highschool cheerleaders… to schizophrenics with a messiah complex who burn inverted crucifixes onto their chest while selling their soul to satan… to drug addicts who burn down the houses of millionaires and spread cut up pieces of the millionaire’s family dog all over the lawn, not because they needed money from robbing the place, but only for the fucking fun of it… to suburban kids who fantasize about filling their high school with bullets… to punks working at burger king who piss and jizz in the happy meals of every rich spoiled brat and soccer mom…

That is my audience

well, it would be scary to someone who believed in hell or satan or any of that religious nonsense. since i know its all just fiction, its hard to get really scared or worked up, but that isnt a fault of yours, its just in the nature of what youre writing about.

am i supposed to get scared and worked up over a script of Lord of the Rings? of course not.

but i am going to exploit words so that no matter what you are scared or aren’t scared of, you will be disturbed after reading it. Unlike the media, I’m not going to provide some false solution to the fear afterwards. I want to just let it sit in people, let it drive them crazy, let it eat them from the inside out. I want to do justice to the people who truly have nothing to fear and nothing to lose.

thats a good goal, certainly worth doing. people need to be shaken out of their complacency and media-induced opiate dreams.

try reading the Necronimicon, and maybe modeling or taking some inspiration from that if you want to go for the horror/demonic genre… i havent read many things that are as disturbing as the Necronomicon, mostly because its so damn convincing

"Peachy Nietzsche

“Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.” Carl Jung

“Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.” Carl Jung

"It is a fact that cannot be denied: the wickedness of others becomes our own wickedness because it kindles something evil in our own hearts. " Carl Jung

Take care in this journey of yours…

:question:

I’m actually reading a 10lb book by Carl Jung right now, he’s a cool dude

so here is what is going on with me - i was on a combination of meds that turned out to be extremely neurotoxic due to their shared metabolism of the same isozyme, leading to an extraordinarily abnormal amount of stimulation in the frontal lobe and nucleus accumbens. Basically, this wouldnt have been a bad thing if I were doing something constructive, cramming down on calculus for example, but for some ungodly reason I decided to test my own ego, “Who am I?” “Do I really deserve any pleasure or love at all?” “Am I the bad guy?” and once that mentality became well established my ego was eaten away, and now I am trapped with short term memory loss and akathisia and indecisiveness. It sucks but oh well.

I thought you’d had a lobotomy?

Now that’s poetic.

Great Jung quotes. I’m also reading him at the moment, coincidentally.

Not a full frontal lobe lobotomy (yeah, I know that is the technical definition of a lobotomy, a more accurate term would be neurosurgery)