Another Delusion from Heaven

I keep seeing us together as a loving couple.

I’m kind in patient I’m generous.

You’re stroking my short haired scalp.

We’re together we make love.

We go on dates.

I don’t know where or how we live.

The voices interrupt and say it’ll never happen, but these visions persist.

I got high by accident last night and it felt like the voices were telling me everything that was, is and wouldn’t be.

It felt like a final revelation, but here they are again to lady to reinforce your disdain or love or the opposite of me.

I’m beyond pain and heartache.

I’m beyond being distressed.

I know I want to move past this and honor the next love in my life, but there are obstacles, including this, that are in the way.

I feel like I can see that clearly, even if it’s the only thing that I see clearly.

And while I work on myself I just want my past self, or whatever virus that infects my mind with you to know that I am, and always will be, and have always been sincere.

That’s why I didn’t pull any punches.

That’s why I committed my “crime of passion.”

That’s why I wanted you to know what my life plans are and maybe, even if you don’t want to be with me, you could replicate it for yourself.

Because if you are teaching your child to smear and eat their own or someone else’s feces, I doubt you’d be raising her for long.

And if you did commit social suicide from everyone but the office in which you are employed, and are still “contently unimpressive” or whatever new secret blog name you have, what could you be spending money on?

Travel?

What is a luxury for you?

Chocolate?

I feel like it’s obvious you could put all that hard earned money to better use.

To work for you.

And if you are just living until your disease becomes unbearable, if you are actually afflicted with a degenerative bone disease, and what ever brain damage you might have, then it’s all for naught anyway, and you will commit suicide in some fashion, more than you already have in its own, metaphorical aspects, and end you life with a whimper.

That, does make me feel sad.

Only because I think, I hope that we could have been better, as a couple.

Together.

At my job, we have a new resident.

His wife had a stroke and he pushes her around in a wheelchair from time to time, with no lack of love.

I see myself in that.

That’s all I see.

New York: Planned Edition

I’m on my way to New York. It’s honestly bringing up a lot of memories and feelings for me, although I plan to see another friend living in the city… coming/going there I feel a bit of anxiety, like I can’t navigate the place on my own, like I did as a teenager. I don’t know why I feel like this, I just do.

I feel unprepared.

It’s odd.

Too late to stay in Boston though, the bus just took off.

Conclusion: I made plenty of new memories in New York. The Museum of Sex is really fun now, and like before on my impromptu trip here, Central Park has a bigger pond, which looks as if it’s getting expanded.

It sucks that we are the way that we are right now, and I hope there’s light in the future, but knowing things change, even that environments can grow and become like new gives me hope that maybe feelings in people do as well.

Who knows, maybe one of those dreams I keep having of you will come true.

Love’ya, ttyl. ✌️

Journal App

I’m using the journal app on my phone for, maybe writing for myself. I don’t know. I still plan to upload the non sequitur evil thoughts of you here, but I think writing for my own peace of mind, will go there. Something I won’t share with the world too readily, but also, won’t keep a lock on if someone gets my phone. My first piece, written today, has already mentioned all of this, and you, so I’ll share it:

“This picture brings me peace, it reminds me that through the troubles there is still beauty in life. I love the pastel, cotton candy sky, as I suffer on through this psychosis, about a woman I may never know again.

I didn’t want to write about her. I don’t know how to deal with her, so I don’t want to deal with her anymore, even vicariously through my own catharsis, this almost pointless self-expression that gets me nowhere and seems to only reinforce how “crazy” I am to the rest of mankind.

What to do what to do…

Still, I have friends, a life worth living, a family that loves me, a job that pays dividends. Life, regardless of how low she can bring me, is good.”

That’s all, for now.

Drug Cocktail: Hope

I don’t know why I hold hope for us reuniting.

I remember years ago, right before I went to Norway I did a magic spell with the condition

“She can come into my life when she’s ready.”

Be careful what you wish for, right?

All I know is that I would’ve tried my damndest to make it work.

“Weather the storm” as they say.

And maybe I still feel that way, even with the onslaught of voices telling me how you’re all of this that and the other.

Everything that I don’t want, and perhaps, what’s wrong with the world…

This is the absolute limit of love.

It feels pathetic.

I feel pathetic.

And as I trudge on and try to shed the weight of it, there are still nights where I could curl up into a ball wishing for what could have been.

Maybe in the next life.

Maybe I end my life tonight.

Who’s to say?

It’s all “up in the air” and as a double entendre that’s to say

“It’s all within me.”

I’m capable of great things, I know that,

but “you can lead a horse to water but can’t make it drink.”

All these sayings from my mother.

And when in my mind, the thing that’s “too good to be true” finally happens,

if it’ll ever happen,

how do I face it?

With blind acceptance?

With rejection?

In all my dreams and pondering I’m uncertain about this future.

Or am I.

I know who I am.

I just feel like such a fucking fool.

Second Album

Title: “Psychic Horrors”

Tracklist:

  1. D.I.L.F.

  2. Mile High Club

  3. Mother Fucker

  4. How Dry do you Want It?

  5. I’m a Lesbian

  6. The Other M

  7. Tribute to Boston

Band Name:

The Howard’s

Howard’s Revenge

edit:

Maybe it’s more the length of an EP… 🤷🏾‍♂️

Hostel Sex

Voices are saying you went out with a guy at the hostel in Boston. Had Sex with him 10 times the voices say.

I’m tired.

Edit: But I was the only one that tried to “date” you, whatever that means.