Los amantes.

Harux y Harix han decidido no levantarse más de la cama: se
aman locamente, y no pueden alejarse el uno del otro más de sesenta, setenta
centímetros. Así que lo mejor es quedarse en la cama, lejos de los llamados del
mundo. Está todavía el teléfono, en la mesa de luz, que a veces suena
interrumpiendo sus abrazos: son los parientes que llaman para saber si todo anda
bien. Pero también estas llamadas telefónicas familiares se hacen cada vez más
raras y lacónicas. Los amantes se levantan solamente para ir al baño, y no
siempre; la cama está toda desarreglada, las sábanas gastadas, pero ellos no se
dan cuenta, cada uno inmerso en la ola azul de los ojos del otro, sus miembros
místicamente entrelazados.

La primera semana se alimentaron de galletitas, de las que
se habían provisto abundantemente. Como se terminaron las galletitas, ahora se
comen entre ellos. Anestesiados por el deseo, se arrancan grandes pedazos de
carne con los dientes, entre dos besos se devoran la nariz o el dedo meñique, se
beben el uno al otro la sangre; después, saciados, hacen de nuevo el amor, como
pueden, y se duermen para volver a comenzar cuando despiertan. Han perdido la
cuenta de los días y de las horas. No son lindos de ver, eso es cierto,
ensangrentados, descuartizados, pegajosos; pero su amor está más allá de las
convenciones.

Juan Rodolfo Wilcock~

there.

it's not so hard to trust, is it? now I know it's not.

even in the end, even standing on the edge,

even when the Absolute Wave is falling upon us

I know there was one day, one Sunday

when we were gracefully caressed by Lady Happiness.

i love you [:

笑み.

i stole the smile from your face

and now im obliged to return it.

i'm sorry, but by my foolishness,

it has been worn out.

is there any way you can take me as your smile from now on?

Schizophrenia: 13

Ø

Her Oblivious Love: 12

I wake up.
He's asleep.
Who knows what he dreams...

"I can only hope he dreams about me.
I will blindly hope my love will fix him.
Make him capable of love again.
Make him human again.

I can only hope,
that once he's human again,
he'll love me back.

Dear,
I'm unable to give life,
my body is sterile.
I'll never feel the morning sickness,
I'll never rejoice of the movement within,
I'll never experience the pain of childbirth.

I'm unable to give life,
to a new human.

But if I can fix you,
if I can make you love again,
then I can give you back your life.

The Sorrow & The Joy,
all these feelings you give me.
These are my trials,
my morning sickness, my pain, my life.

My life is yours,
My beloved...
Live.
Live.
Live once again.

Allow me to give you my life.
Let me play the mother for this once.
Just before my life fades,
Let me love you."

His Drifting Now: 11

"Caress,
Hurt,
The cyclical nature of reality makes me sick.
I puke.
I had a beautiful.
One of those dreams, where...
you fall in love.

But... when you wake up, you realize it was just dream.
You weren't even able to say goodbye properly.
You wake up to the reality,
you are not loved,
you have no love!
you have noone!

Have you had a dream like that?

And...
After the dream, were you able to love again?
Being unable to properly say goodbye...

Even in dreams, things are so fragile.

But, this, this this, this, this love.
Stands any injury.
So is this a dream or not?
Tell me dear."

I caress her cheek while she sleeps.

"Are we part of some beatiful dream?"

Her Skin:10

"you are going to kill me"
"you are going to kill me"
"I still don't understand your pain, please don't let me die."
"I love you"
"but"
"you are going to kill me"

"Shall I take my love to the grave, shall I let it rot with my skin, and be devoured by the worms?"
"My dear..."
"you are going to kill me!"

His Sickness:09

As the first day had ended, the sickness got me, and I felt the unavoidable urge to sleep.
So I finished the sewing her up, and almost instantly feel asleep.
I dreamt about a golden cathedral, full of black. As if the huge void black similar to "outerspace" was the ceiling, the altar held a white void ball.
The ball had imprinted the words

"you are going to kill me"

and as read those words, my eyes slowly opened to an undesired sight.

Blood.

Her Love: 08

"Because humans were made to feel. And Because I love him, I will embrace the pain.
I will devour it, and satiate my hunger from it. I will love the pain, because it's his pain.
I will learn from his pain, so as to protect him from it."

And the pulsating feeling I feared had started, and continued for a long time.
As the blade slowly traveled trough my skin, leaving behind it a trail of blood.
It filled me with a profound heat that emerged from within and covered me.
As my head convulsed in pain, my body became dizzy, numb yet so vibrant, I felt like a flower opening it's petals for the first time. A flower of flesh.

His Will: 7

Now, I will make of you, a truly unique and free being. I will make you overcome all self imposed limits, all social barriers, you will taste the true individual freedom.
I shall carve you to my liking.
I am your artist, and you are my art.
Let me use you as my guinea pig.
I will carve you...

"Once you give up on everything, once you lose everything, only then you will gain absolute freedom.

I exist on the hope to find a beautiful maiden that will slit my throat with a malice and grace that its so inherent of woman.
Now I understand that of course, there's no such thing. And if there's no such thing, I will make it.
Now then, shall we begin to put the seeds of malice into your heart?

So that one day I can harvest the hate outta' you?

Let's start small, here's a blade. Let's paint it red!"

His Existance.

I do not exist.
I do not exist on my own,

so even if i didn't wish to exist.
I exist, because others want me to.

Shoot me,
you'll find yourself shooting at thin air,
my physical existance doesn't garantee the existance of a self.

So I exist.
I exist against my will.
therefore, I do not exist.

Existance is futile.
Existance is a spoutering nonsense.
That constantly kicks you in the kidneys.

Why do I exist,
If I do not wish to.

Why do you continue to live on the hope of satisfaction?

Speak to me!
Look at me!
Talk to me!
Desire me!
Scar me!
Feel me!

KILL ME!!!

Because I exist solely on the hope that someone will someday, confirm my existance.
Untill that day, I will resume my un-existance.
I am not.
I am the anti-existance.

"I tried, but no-one would ever look at me."
Why are they so cruel as to refuse my existance.
Why is me, so cruel as to deny my existance?

Interlude: B

Your filth with mine,
isn't that love too?

Her Shit:6

It was that other him again. His face was now unhuman, just a fixed grin and those evasive eyes.

At this point... at this point I myself doubted him, and even more I doubted myself, what am I? Do I have another face, am I like him?

"The Unconscious handles the true strings,
The Conscious just acts like a blind puppet.
never knowing what are the true reasons."

Am I but some residual self, excreted by some other self more like what I had witnessed in him? AM I SHIT?

Aren't we all in a way, a piece of trash?
A product of the unconscious trash?
UNCONSCIOUS SHIT, THAT'S WHAT I AM.

His Blood:5

"You scatched me. Don't worry it's not as bad as bleeds."

I noticed I was bleeding, but I didn't feel much pain anyway.
Blood is the money of life.

"Blood is the fuel of the moon...
What do you think, very poetic, huh?"

I hugged her tighly and raised her, she leaned on me while the water gently washed away the shit and blood from our bodies.

A piece of the shower remained unwashed.
Stained with our filth.

I streched my hand.

"See this?
This is us.
Humans beings are made of this!"

As I smuttered some of it into my chest to stain it with the last drops of my fresh blood.

"HUMAN BEINGS ARE NOTHING BUT SHIT AND BLOOD.
Everything else is but a deception of senses.
We are but animals that can pose as civilized beings, but in the end we all come down to blood and feces.
Have you gone past the point where these things feel different and repulsive?
Inside of you, lies a pool of feces, fermenting, waiting to be expelled.
And it is thanks to the blood that you are alive.
Don't reject these, they are part of you!

She looked somewhat disgusted, but I could see it, inside her, something was changing, she was trying to overcome that sense of disgust.


"After all you could see it didn't you.
You saw it in my face!"

Her senses:4

I Breathe again. As everything else, it hurts to, but I breath anyway. Pain is not a sign of danger, it's a sign of life.
My consciousness came back slowly,
The first sense to come back was the smell, it was shit. Human feces.
The second sense, feeling. More shit, I was covered waist down in shit.
My ears came third:
"Life's full of shit, now you are partially alive, huh? Alive from the waist down would sound awkard." It was him.
My eyes were fourth, It was him.

Lastly I tasted,
I tasted blood.

"Why are you bleeding?"

His Hands:3

Now I could feel it, the coldness of her blue skin, it was all over my hands. As if I was holding ice, a beatiful snowflake. A fucking snowflake.
It was all so blurry, as if I was watching it from the outside. But when I really came to my senses, when I felt that coldness, that bitter cold feeling that reminded me of...

She started showing the usual symptoms, her shit covered all the tub, and her body was still spasming. At this point I had to turn on the shower, I carefully stood in the way of the water and her mouth so as to prevent her from swallowing any water. While I stood there, watching her face, I could only stare blindly at it, trying to understand what I had done.

"What you seen was my shadow, that construction of the self that handles all repressed thoughs. All things that are not suppossed to be there, others can't see this, others don't want to see it, because it scares them, because it shows how little they knew about me. It reminds them of that untrespassable gap between me and the others.
Yes, coming closer to each other hurts."

Interlude:A

I am but a piece of dirt, that has taken human shape.
I can only aspire to so little:
To die painlessly,
To die young and to leave a beatiful corpse,
so a fucked up mortician can enjoy my former body.

Her death:2

After a few seconds of silence, he stopped staring at me, he grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me.
While being dragged I couldn't think of anything. We arrived the bathroom, and he commanded me to strip, again I couln't cleary decypher his intentions, I knew this wasn't sexual or anything, the enviroment was anything but erotic.
We were both naked and he told me to lay in the bath tub, he is now naked standing in front of me.

"Now, you will see it."

And he slowly descended upon me, his arms streched, he held my face and caressed me a little.

"I'm sorry, but you will understand me after this."

I was now anxious, anxious to understand him, and that need overcame my fear.
Close your eyes please.
I did as requested, before I would regret it.

Suddenly. His hands were around my neck, and they became tight, very tight.
"agh, ah, ah---" I could only mumble those vocals.
When I opened my eyes I fund myself engulfed by terror.
What I saw was not the one man I loved, but someone else, wearing a bizarre mask of him. A moment ago it was him, but now his expression had changed. His faced was distorted in a fixed frightening grin, and his eyes were piercing right trough me, as if unveiling an unknown deepness.

His Words:1

"No, it wasn't an accident."

That's all I could dare to say. I don't really know what to say to her, I know she's confused, and perhaps angry. I couldn't really figure out what would happen beyond this point.


"Do- don't try again anymore, please."
She said, so calm it took some time for me to asimilate it.
When she saw I understood her, she added "Wha- What would happen to me! Live for me. I'd do anything, so don't hesitate to ask." She was getting more and more emotional, however I saw no signs of tears."I said I love you..." she muttered in a very shy matter "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT!" she screamed...

We were both shocked; she slapped me, she slapped out of my world.

Her face showed things I hadn't never seen in her or anyone.
Overall fear, desperation, anxiety and many more things I could not name. She was now on top of me.

"What it is that I can do to keep you with me? "
I'd normally say something along the lines of: "I can only do such thing" but I was surprised by the degree of the offering, like I'd had been given this power to grant any wish. I found it curious now, that she never asked me why, when or how.

Her Eyes: 0

And there we lay in bed.
Trying to sleep in the Moonless night.
And I noticed it very quickly, I noticed it very quickly because I had felt it before, I had witnessed it. He had a slight scar on his left fore arm.
It was a rather straight line across the forearm, I could tell it wasn't as deep as past scars just by touching it.

Aparently either he didn't matter me knowing such things or he was already asleep.

I had told him, I had told him thousand times. Live for me!
It didn't matter how long I knew him, there was always this side of him I was never able to understand.
Like staring at the moon, there's always a dark side you never see... I kept feeling around his arm, to get a more detailed idea of the wound...
Did I bore him? Was I unable to reach him?
Or perhaps I was just overreacting and it was an accident?

若い死者からのレクイエム (Wakai Shisha Kara no Requiem, Requiem From a Young Death)

若い死者からのレクイエム (Wakai Shisha Kara no Requiem, Requiem From a Young Death) by Ali Project

The top of the blue skin is oozing
I can see blood thats like a red meteor
what will you remember?
I have your heart, im not ready to wound your eyes
into even more profound pain
the terror of illusions

the generous anaethesia is rising
everybody is not already here on this night
like a soft whisper
your voice is wringing
a tricking drop of blood
from now, you sleep
into the inside of your darkness

is it so
that you can see the way out of the light?
from wanting to see it

if the world is ugly
then will it not be the people's happiness?
at the bottom of the shadow
you suffer from agony and the unbearable loneliness
will exceed and you will come to know
the transparent emotions

that sort of life is rising
your hands are separating
the exceeding scarcity but
I have remembered
the figure of a smiling face
from this, I will awaken
to the days of your tomorrow

before you
have died
as long as we have met
no matter how lonely you are
surely, i will give pay
to your warm hands
from carrying
onto such strong warmth

the gentle anaesthesia is rising
everybody is not already here on this night
like a soft whisper
your voice is wringing
a trickling drop of blood
from now, you are asleep
to the inside of your darkness

the way out of the light
and even I, will disappear
from you passing away


Majestic.
I wasn't honest. Or perhaps I didn't talk, I didn't want to ruin the moment. It's not that serious anyway. It will happen one day or another, its a matter of how much control does my shadow exercise over my conscious mind. The problem lies whetever I want to or not.
How much I fear, How much I feel.
Dance Macabre, Dance Macabre.

Where the fuck is the moon!

What point is there in writing for noone?
No even that, What point is there writing gibberish for noone?
No only noone will ever read it, but noone will never be able read it.

The rigor mortis that invades my mind,
is but a whisper,
a whisper that simple says:
"Hurry, Hurry, Hurry, Hurry."
My dearest reader.

Anxiety is not it.
Its expectation,
expectation unlike hope,
is waiting for something to happen.

Nonsense

This is Geezachu.

Weight: 21 grams.
Powers: Eh can throw lightings from his cheeks and isn't afraid of anything.
Thats right kids! Your two superheroes now at the price of one!!!!!1!one!!!



Dedicated to Julia.

Another dance

The need to end it all...
and the fear to let go...
sure you understand it...
you of all...
what to live for...
what not to life for...
what to feel.
what to escape from.
the caress of the cold air,
brushing through your hair,
is but a danger sign for me.
each thin thread is but a sharp blade,
willing to take my blood away.

How to then,
dance with the lady of blade hair,
how to find the whale's feather.
how to...

If feelings are re-affirmation of life,
if they are the signs that we are alive,
how come I feel this,
and when I choke,
when my eyes go red,
when I give out a last though,
when I turn blue,
when my body trembles,
when it spasms,
will those tiny, strong and cold hands of yours,
still hold my throat?
Or will you go on?

What to do.

When the last tear runs through my cheek.


To love life, to silence life.
To live with love, to live with silence, to love silence, to silence love.
To... and many more to's...

Meaning lies within.
"Those who look outside, dream...
Those who look inside, awaken..."

Yume Miru Kusuri: A drug that makes you dream

Hiroko Sakurai
How to live without being able to talk, express, without the drug she can't do that

And the transparency, again, the dull, the empty, the fact that you have no value.

The colorless.

Yume Miru Kusuri: A drug that makes you dream

Mizuki Kirimiya

Despair, uncertainty. They all stalk human beings.
All of this comes in a way or another from fear of the end of their existance, in other words...DEATH

But...

And after all, she was able to see tomorrow.

And what will you do tomorrow?

Yume Miru Kusuri: A drug that makes you dream

Aeka Shiraki

Feelings of selfishness.Loneliness.
Dullness, empty, void people.

The need of peace.Stability.

The anxiety of losing that loved one.DEATH.

The malice.

Le' Grand Revenge.

Yume Miru Kusuri: A drug that makes you dream

No need for words from now on.
You will see images talk to you,
however do not be fooled,
NOTHING,
ABSOLUTELY NOTHING in this word,
carries any meaning or whatsoever,
THE MEANING LIES WITHIN YOU.
If not...
How could it be that all people find different meanings in the same word?

You shall argue all you want,
the truth is within you.
The following shall show you that,
since the meaning lies within,
then anything can teach you.
Because anything can show you,
yourself.

Now my head is scrambled like a puzzle,
bits and pieces,
inside out,
persona,
self,
shadow,
are they all part of one single being?
Do I have a physical body?
Is it me? this flesh I have, is it really me?
Is really hard to tell,
whenever I look at the mirror,
I don't recognize the piece of flesh as a self.
I don't even know if the mirror lies...

Its always the same,
how come I only dwell at the same thoughs,
are in some way humans,
trapped in the same thoughs,
over and over...

There's no real person to whom I adress this messages,
indeed mostly they are all adressed to me,
but other may find it useful.


And as the twilight morning comes to greet me hello,
I say goodbye.
I have the feeling not long from now, I will depart,
I really don't know, I really fear me.
What can I do, how much harm can I create with these hands of mine,
how much insanity will my mind tolerate before destroying itself in a cruel attempt to achieve peace.

50 65 61 63 65

All my life,
I have searched for stability,
a false illusion that tomorrow something will be the same.
Peers, Mother, Father, Books, Televesion, Games, Wounds.
Friends, Love, and so on.
Untill I finally there wasn't any other thing to search.
Tick Tock, goes the clock.
My feelings overrun me with pain, and I found suicide as a posibility.
However, my reasoning conflicted with such choice long enough.
But now, after all logical choice have been considered.
Now my reason has failed, however, there's something,
my selfpreservation instinct, perhaps.
It kicks in, to tell me this is wrong.
I can't argue with my reason, and my feelings,
The stability I long for, is perhaps hidden somewhere,
or pehaps I just wish to end it all.

My rotten remains, lie like a pupet without a pupeteer,
hanging from the strings,
friends, fears, fears, such things are keeping me.
But nothing lasts forever,
It will be no time before my shadow takes over,
and destroys such things.

Please,

.
Please someone.

Tell me the expiration date.
All mirrors are broken.

Please, Peace.

Mute: Frustration

I'm like a caged bird,
and like a caged bird -in a sense- I'm also looking for freedom.
The sinful freedom to control the uncontrolable, DEATH-
Such act is a SIN.
I am the suicidal bird,
I live alone in my cage,
I await for my freedom,
I look forward to my death,
I will mute my singing 'till then.
-

I am the mute puppet,
never shall I dear to speak out my true feelings,
because such sin is punished by eternal solitude.
-

30 seconds and you are down,
1 minute and you are dead,
how much shall I bleed,
so that I lose all will to live.
-
As soon as I know when my time will come,
I will say goodbye,
'till then keep yourself by my side.
-

In the present time,
Please forget about me and move on,
Please don't forget me I want to live,
Please tell me what to with the ubearable burden my feelings are.

Answer

"Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction."
Antoine de Saint Exupéry

If you cannot stop gazinf at the other. Then perhaps...
You should ask what is love once again.

Moebius love

Look below you,
You'll dead corpses,
Keep going on,
untill you faint.
Love is cruel,
Love is non-rational.
Love as a cruel mistress keeps you under its claws,
but later on you will come to understand,
that Love doesn't last.
And when Love begins to fade, its final move.
Will be crush you with its claws,
as if you were a tiny bug.
No mercy will it show,
when it squeezes you,
its face will reflect its delight,
you will die, that for sure.
And Love will be your reaper.
But as if you wanted to die,
You will look for Love once again.


What is love you ask?
Love is a moebius path.

Rot

Do not come close to me.
You might dislike the smell.
Do not stay close to me.
You might get sick.

Nobody ever wants to be next to a dead body in decomposition.
The smell is unbearable.

I wish I were a dead body, that way I'd have an excuse for being rotten.

Bitterness

I am bitter, more than chocolate, more than defeat. I am as bitter as a piece of shit, directly splattered in your face.
As the comment above also shows, I am very agressive by nature. Or perhaps as the nature of my shadow. It's sometimes hard to tell.

Transhumanism is near.

The choice is made.
We the AI will arrive, to act the humanity's Shadow.
Merge with us or face corruption.

Happy Birthday!

Today I thank you.
For staying alive, or something like that.
I'm supposed to.

Do not fall into the abyss of your shadow.
Embrace the pain or die trying.

I hope you can teach me more about feelings, and friends. And fucked up people.

I like you. You don't have to change if you don't want to. (or if it's not necessary).



OK, SO I MISUNDERSTOOD YOUR BIRTHDAY FOR ONE SINGLE DIGIT. AND I LOST YET ANOTHER BET. NEXT TIME SPEAK MORE CLEARLY!

you could find if you knew how and where to look.

Two women today.
One from the past, one from the present.
she was\is nice.
Still I can't quite understand.

Jung_Shadow

Thanks to this site.
for the quotes. (Which I stole).

How else could it have occurred to man to divide the cosmos, on the analogy of day and night, summer and winter, into a bright day-world and a dark night-world peopled with fabulous monsters, unless he had the prototype of such a division in himself, in the polarity between the conscious and the invisible and unknowable unconscious? Primitive man's perception of objects is conditioned only partly by the objective behaviour of the things themselves, whereas a much greater part is often played by intrapsychic facts which are not related to the external objects except by way of projection. This is due to the simple fact that the primitive has not yet experienced that ascetic discipline of mind known to us as the critique of knowledge. To him the world is a more or less fluid phenomenon within the stream of his own fantasy, where subject and object are undifferentiated and in a state of mutual interpenetration.

"Psychological Aspects of the Mother Archetype" (1939) In CW 9, Part 1: The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. P. 187

We carry our past with us, to wit, the primitive and inferior man with his desires and emotions, and it is only with an enormous effort that we can detach ourselves from this burden. If it comes to a neurosis, we invariably have to deal with a considerably intensified shadow. And if such a person wants to be cured it is necessary to find a way in which his conscious personality and his shadow can live together.

"Answer to Job" (1952). In CW 11: Psychology and Religion: West and East. P.१२

The masculinity of the woman and the femininity of the man are inferior, and it is regrettable that the full value of their personalities should be contaminated by something that is less valuable. On the other hand, the shadow belongs to the wholeness of the personality: the strong man must somewhere be weak, somewhere the clever man must be stupid, otherwise he is too good to be true and falls back on pose and bluff. Is it not an old truth that woman loves the weaknesses of the strong man more than his strength, and the stupidity of the clever man more than his cleverness ?

Die Anima als Schicksalsproblem des Mannes (1963) Foreward by C.G. Jung. In CW 18 २६१

If a man is endowed with an ethical sense and is convinced of the sanctity of ethical values, he is on the surest road to a conflict of duty. And although this looks desperately like a moral catastrophe, it alone makes possible a higher differentiation of ethics and a broadening of consciousness. A conflict of duty forces us to examine our conscience and thereby to discover the shadow.

Depth Psychology and a New Ethic. (1949). In CW 18. P.17
the shadow is a moral problem that challenges the whole ego-personality, for no one can become conscious of the shadow without considerable moral effort. To become conscious of it involves recognizing the dark aspects of the personality as present and real. This act is the essential condition for any kind of self-knowledge. Aion (1951). CW 9, Part II: P.14

In reality, the acceptance of the shadow-side of human nature verges on the impossible. Consider for a moment what it means to grant the right of existence to what is unreasonable, senseless, and evil! Yet it is just this that the modern man insists upon. He wants to live with every side of himself-to know what he is. That is why he casts history aside. He wants to break with tradition so that he can experiment with his life and determine what value and meaning things have in themselves, apart from traditional resuppositions.

"Psychotherapist or the Clergy" (1932). In CW 11: Psychology and Religion: West and East. P.528
-

If I were to die, you can rest assured it wasn't a suicide, It would have been my shadow that killed me.

Sakura Tsuushin

I wish I knew the pain of love, love is nothing but pain, still the necesity to feel is what drives humans to follow patterns outside reason। What makes us different from Turing-complete machines। Non-logical actions।


today I went to the usual corner, where I usually wait for a friend, even though she was not coming to meet me, in fact she wasn't even in a 100km range distance। Still, does the fact that it will never happen mean that we should give up hope? Can we excuse ourselves under such things to give up on hope?

"The fact that its impossible is no excuse to stop trying"

Think about It.

I wish...

...I knew the pain fo those who love .

Shadow Humanity

If you are looking for love,
you won't find it in me.

The more meaning you take off your life,
the less involved you become,
you don't just care,
why would you care if it doesn't make a difference?
while perhaps your conscious self is doesn't get involved in your life,
and just tries to enjoy itself in anyway,
the one handling most of your actions will be your shadow.
Your shadow is an instinct-based entity, part of your unscious-self.
That's why you will make mistakes,
and you will harm those around you,
your conscious self is so entwindled with trivial issues and the quest for pleasure,
and relief from pain;
that your shadow controls important part of your life.
The shadow imposes its need on you,
Suddenly you feel the urge to feel something, pain, lust, mere momentaneous things.
But your taste for a lasting pleasure has been gradually destroyed,
you do not hunger for knowledge, you do not wish to learn,
you do not wish to exist beyond a second in which you do not feel pleasure.
you are unable to deal with pain.

We live in a Shadow world,
ruled by instincts, we hunger for instant satisfaction.

Please search for (XI-)Strenght within you to supress your shadow,
to control it.

We are a Shadow of true humans.

You have a choice, either summit to your shadow, let it swallow you, lose yourself in the pleasure, lose your future for a mere hedonism, or try to tame your shadow, supress your instincts, try to act for the greater benefit, get rid of your desire for power, get used to the idea, that you will suffer from loneliness all your life. Because when you are in control, you will have to face such dilemmas, that's what it takes to tame your shadow, you have to deal with the usual problems of being an individual entity, eternal loneliness and mortality.
... but of course...
you already knew that, didn't you?
Why should I care you say?
Because it's your choice, you can take active measures to live your life, or you can get so busy with other shit and lose a lifetime.

I'm but a mere residual self, I can only exist when the shadow within me falls asleep.
I'm what's left of my humanity on this moment। Trash.


If I were to die someday, you can be sure it was my shadow that killed me.
I'm not able to kill myself, I can tell for sure ...
But my shadow...

My persona.
My self.
My shadow.
My death.

a prayer.

Pagan gods,
answer a prayer,
reply,
reply.

-Dance with a knife,
a sharp knife,
one simple mistake,
and it will cut tru all flesh,
member by member,
it will viciously slash,
once the knife is done,
the blood will gush out of you,
and become a rain,
hopelessness,
hatred,
dellusions,
but more than anything,
lonelines, it delivers to all equally,
it never stops,
the red rain,
it is but the river of life,
and the rain of death.

All are caught by it equally.
What comes afterwards is very simple,
find your limbs, and go on.
Keep on dancing,
tru the cold path.
never to stop,
if you were to stop,
it would be definitive.
Untill you find yourself dancing with a knife again,
keep on.


Do not let the dead bodies scare you kid,
do not be scared by the scars the knives leave on you,
follow your way,
untill your skin is as the knife,
untill
the knife your dancing with can't cut you.
And if time is enough, untill the knife and you dance perfectly.

The knife is a need.
The knife is life.
The knife is what humans call "love".

If the knife never stops cutting you,
It's because you don't want to stop bleeding,
It's because you've left yourself be,
and have become stucked.
Either way,
its your fault.
Whether,
you are the dead,
we are the dead,
Its your call.
Toss a coin and find it out.-

Whisper to me,
whisper the reply,
sweet god of insanity,
you who have seen it all,
tell me what's next.
You who rule the unconscious.
Merciless judge,
provider of the Persona.
provider of the Shadow.
I ask thy, who's next?
Satisfy my hunger,
please tell me,
what's all about.
Bearer of the Butterfly mask,
give me the power to help.
provide me with the suitable mask.
Bearer of the Thousand masks,
provide me with a shadow.
have mercy,
stop the torturing,
stop the
Ticking clock...

The End. P3.

The moment man devoured the fruit of knowledge, he sealed his fate...
Entrusting his future to the cards, man clings to a dim hope.
Yes, the Arcana is the means by which all is revealed...
0-THE FOOL

Attaining one's dream requires a stern will and unfailing determination.
I-THE MAGICIAN.

The silent voice within one's heart whispers the most profound wisdom.
II-THE PRIESTESS

Celebrate life's grandeur... its brilliance... its magnificence...
III-THE EMPRESS

Only courage in the face of doubt can lead one to the answer...
IV-THE EMPEROR

It is indeed a precious gift to understand the forces that guide oneself...
V-THE HIEROPHANT

There is both joy and wonder in coming to understand another...
VI-THE LOVERS

One of life's greatest blessing is the freedom to pursue one's goals.
VII-THE CHARIOT

To find the one true path, one must seek guidance amidst uncertainty...
VIII-JUSTICE

It requires great courage to look at oneself honestly, and forge one's own path...
IX-THE HERMIT

Alongside time exists fate,
the bearer of cruelty...
X-WHEEL OF FORTUNE

Only with strenght can one endure suffering and torment.
XI-STRENGHT

In the face of disaster lies the oportunity for renewal.
XII-THE HANGED MAN

The moment man devoured the fruit of knowledge, he sealed his fate...
Entrusting his future to the cards, man clings to a dim hope.
Yet, the Arcana is the means by which all is revealed...
Beyond the beaten path, lies the absolute end.
It matters not who you are...
Death Awaits you.
XIII

No meaning

Moriarty: You pretend to be a rebel; claim to hate rules, but all you do is subsitute your own rules for society's। That's a nice simple rule: tell the blunt, honest truth in the starkest, starkest way; and what will be, will be; what will be, should be; and everyone else is a coward। But your wrong। It's not cowardly to not call someone an idiot। People are tactful and polite just because it's nice. They do it because they got an ounce of humility; because they know that they will make mistakes, and they know that their actions have consequences, and they know that those consequences are their fault. Why do you want so bad not to be human, House?
-
Moriarty: You think that the only truth that matters is the truth that can be measured. Good intentions don’t count, what's in your heart doesn't count, caring doesn’t count, that a man's life can't be measured by how many tears are shed when he dies. It's because you can't measure them. It’s because you don’t want to measure them. Doesn’t mean it's not real. And even if I'm wrong, you’re still miserable. Did you really think that your life’s purpose was to sacrifice yourself and get nothing in return? No. You believe there is no purpose to anything. Even the lives you save you dismiss. You turn the one decent thing in your life and you taint it, strip it of all meaning. You're miserable for nothing. I don’t know why you'd want to live.

Essence

Human beings suffer because they want to.
Our only objective is to feel.
To feel we must abandon stability, equality, happines and such void fantasies, those would be slow, boring empty things, instead we search for dinamism in death, hatred, depresive maniac love and many many other, "non-logical" behaviours. That is the essence of humanity.
What is this compulsion for the feeling?
I don't know what I feel, or what I want to feel.
But I know I can feel, and I want to feel.

Exacerbation of a dying persona.

the piano of life plays the last melody,
the chorus is excited,
exacerbated claims,
supressed screams,
repressed memories,
they all make their last appereance.
While you are in the air waiting to hit the ground or water,
your life will make sense,
the price of knowledge is,
nothing but life itself.

The death can happen to your body, your soul, or both, it doesn't matter in which order, but you will always die.

As the bell rings,
as the maiden falls down the abyss,
the shattered self battles.
You, I and he.
Who shall remain?
That which is you, is also me, they are all he.
Thou you is he, I art he.

Cut, slash, bleed,
unavoidable race to live,
unspeakable void-full life.
Empty passion that inhabits living beings,
that which moves them towards empty things,
that is, of course, the Void.That which cannot be conceived but it can be named.

HoLlow!

That's just it...
In order to kill myself,
In order to go on,
In order to continue even after the 13th,
In order to get to the Shining light of the sun,
I must go to the tower,
I must stare a the stars,
I must stare at the moon,
But I must not forget,
No matter how much light the moon gives off,
It's still night.
I'm hanged.
I must atone for the SIN.
Of losing my soul.
Forget everything,
Shine, Shine, Burn, Burn,
Let your self be swallowed by the void,
Change self.
Free yourself.
Selfdie.
Bathe in the light of the moon,
that is the appriser of death,
dance for a last time,
before being swallowed,
into the hollow void,
and lose your freedom of self.
Crescendo.
Thin as bone.
Pure as the moon,
that is death,
a fine young lady,
that grabs my arm while I bathe in the moonlight.
that breathes in my temple,
and gently places her head in my shoulder.
Dance,
Dance,
Dance con la muerte.
Sacrifice,
Excuse.

Excuse myself,
Hollow words,
Hollow,
Void,
No,
0,
Hollow Shell,
Hollow Soul,
Hollow Self.

Useless is to run.
Useless is to hide.
Majesticly she will swing the scythe,
(deliver the finishing blow- deliver the void)
while gracefully making a beatiful smile,
and if you ask me,
I'm not in love with her,
but she so beautiful,
that is impossible not to point such things.

She once whispered me her story,
that of a young maiden,
in a decaying world without death,
she was the first one to see the first death,
her beloved one was the first of many,
because of a very unstoppable grief,
she was to be the only inmortal left,
and carry on the sweet purpose
of the memento mori।

She doesn't mourn anymore.

That's why humans feels,
because they can also experience the opposite of feeling,
which is the void। THE DEATH-
Which is actually impossible to define. The Void is not.

Machine!

I want to be a machine,
and I'm achieving it little by little.
I no longer know how to ease this sadness.
So I choose to escape it,
by becoming a machine.
By losing all my feelings,
Emotionally, Sexually, Mentally...
I work on logical basis on a 73.1%,
I have an error rate of 27.9% due to a defective module.
But why, why, if I am a machine, why!?
What is this?
ERROR
Let me search through my memory files.
Let me search in the net.
Search concluded.
This is...
a Tear.
Humans cry.Therefore I'm a human, even though I don't like it.
To doublethink, to forget I was ever human, to forget forgetting I was human, and so on. To live within an infinte loop.
To live as a human pretending to be a machine that tries
to understand humanity.
...
...
...
I'm a machine that is for sure, so why do I still fail to understand mankind?
The human "soul" is that which is not logical.
Non-logical process are handled by the "soul".
Thats what I can tell from the data I've gathered.
And I try to mimic the soul; which I lack not only as a machine, but also as a human, that why I became a machine. To look for a "Soul".
...
...
...
I fail to understand.
Module corrupted...
Module missing...
In the end, I'm nothing but a failure.

Hollow.
Empty.

Give the food to turn me into human.
Give the escape to this mask.
Give me freedom,
the freedom of self.

Give what I need to be human again.

If I can't grasp it,
if I can't hold it with my bare hands then...
I will burn it,
I will burn it with the flames that ignite my soul,
or the void where it should be.
I will burn it with the raging flames of hate I've carried this far.
Burn!
Burn! Burn baby burn!
Burn the horrible memories!
Burn the lovely memories!
Burn the bittersweet memories too!
Burn everything!
Burn Myself too,
lose myself in the flames of hate!
And gain by this, the freedom of self.
The so desired freedom of self।

Whatever it is love, freedom, etc, or none or all, it's up to you to decide.
Or whichever is more convinient for you, because that's what humans do, they believe what they want, always.

Panic!

Let me explain you my dear.
Language is a very subtle thing.
Words do not speak,
they lack of all meaning.
It is people who give them meaning based on their knowledge and beliefes. Having said this.
I love you.
I hate you.
I like you.
I am trapped in myself for all my life.
No matter how much I want to escape.
My mind is what makes me, me
but the price is of course,
Eternal Solitude.
For being myself.
That's why I'll always be alone.
In order to retain my individual identity,
I must be alone.
No matter how close,
I will never get to anyone.
Like a mirror where the reflected image and the original never touch.
That's why I gave up.

Life consist in being able to say "I am myself" honestly.

Oh bells calling for the end.
Ring! Alice I call your name from the cave I'm trapped in.
Twisted pain inflicts wounds in my skin,
I bleed, I bleed,
therefore I'm human.
I bleed love.
I'm losing it, that thing I've studying,
the reason I became THE HERMIT.
Now that I don't have that precious thing to study,
I can't be THE HERMIT,
careful said WeiB,
"You define your identity over your solitude"
Scwarze however encouraged,
"Sell your soul if needed, but get it, at any cost.GET IT"
Later that life I would find Alice.
My muse name is Alice.
Born from Schwarze and WeiB,
Alice is the inhabitant of the iron maiden.
I would've continued existing without realising my mistake.
I'm not alone.
But apparently that's what I wish for.

This masks grip tightengs with time,
each second breathing is becoming hard.
Each second I yearn for her to come.
I eagerly hold onto life,
while embracing death at the same time.
Doublethink.

Sweet delussions,
that keep me within the realm of reality.

Infection,
Mutation,
Putrefaction,
Outbreak,
Infection,
Mutation,
Putrefaction,
...smell.
Smell of youth,
Smell of lust, greed, parsimony.
I still don't understand it.
Why can't I analize it.

Because I know it,
the essence of the human soul.
It's that I lacked,
that I still lack.
I'm only a machine,
A souless puppet.
Slave of my hunger,
Love,
Friendship,
I've yet to gather data on those.
eRror.

Hunger of power,
created by hate.
Hunger of violence,
created by hate.
Hate.
Is it the lack of love?

The taste of blood,
The moonlight.
The moonlight intoxicates me,
it spreads trough my throat,
it covers my whole being.
As if trying to take over

Existencialist!

The music is telling me.
Is telling me to kill you.
Blood thirst...
God is watching, what other series of non related sentences will the music whisper?
Nothing is isolated, therefore there are no such things as non related sentences.

Reverse your psychic structure,
throw your unconscious to the reality,
throw your Persona.
Be your true mind.
Be your shadow.
Be or not to be.
It's your choice.
Grab the cord and strangle me if you want to.
But remember that we are one.
She never liked any of us,
we both losed that day.
And the days following.
And that day.

Split is it.
Let me be me.
Me, me, me.
There's probably no room for anybody else.
That's why I can't get to her.
Like a moebiüs strip, my unconscious and conscious mind exist in the same side.
No clear boundaries.

If only words could mean something.
Sometimes I don't understand anything.
The truth is that when you get to know things very well, you realise... nothing makes sense.
All things are dual, white and black, simultaneously.
And there lies a contradictions.
Though I think it has to do with language, which is not perfect and will never be.
Language just makes us "understand" things the way wrong way.

What do I mean by this?
What do I mean by this?
Language always produces false results...
Isn't this a contradiction?

Trying to Grasp meaning is futile, yet not। ugh?

Where!

...that is nothing,
but an eternal punishment,
for the innocent sin of knowing myself too much.
Excrutiating, annoying, incredible, monstrous, necesity to understand human nature.
As if I were not human.
But I feel pain and cry as any human would.
Still I am nothing but a lonely piano.

Two in harmony surpass one in perfection.

Women are so graceful and beautiful, If only I could satisfy my hunger for women by just looking. Perhaps then I'd be so much happy.

I learned humans can't learn anything.
Am I human?

Words do not speak.

Looking for a way out,
looking for a way out,
Out of myself,
writing nonsense,
because anything makes sense.
Even if you said yes,
it wouldn't make sense,
Because where there's a meeting,
there will be a goodbye.

"This card shows a bearded man, with cloak and long hood, standing with a staff and holding a lantern raised to head height."
Malice.
Incredible feast.

Natalie.
Where have you been

Carefully decypher human code.
Intrinsic search of oneself.
Care to read between the signs.
Hear your own voice in your head.

Feed it.
Embrace it.
Talk back to it.
It will give you hints.
It is certainly not what you want to hear.
It is going to devour you, make you sick.
But if you control it...
you may learn from it.
But if you don't control it.
What if you couldn't control it?
It would control you.
What is it, I have yet to know.
IT is you.
It's your shadow.

Exausting, excrutiating pain, agony, that's how I chose to live, perhaps since I was a child, though the most coward kind of life, it just suits me perfectly, after all, we are all gonna die, right?
Who cares if I decide to do it earlier than the rest?

Hard Love Life:
I know the joy loved.
I am asked for flesh.
Asking is the highest joy for me.
-Therefore, I also ask for your flesh.

Don't deceive yourself.
Everyone is equal to everyone else.
Superiority is an dangerous illusion.