Punishment

Another life, another moment in the midst emptiness. What can I say where my insides have been ripped in such manners, when love has abandoned me with bountiful desecration? (Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were busy with your story, the door was unlocked!) There is much to be said, about who I am, about what I have found, and what I deserve, and yet, I am also rarely understood, by both myself and others and my mothers, of who I am turning out to be, (What a nice place, and a nice room, perfect place for my story, oh! Sorry, you are talking. Go on, go on, pretend that I am not here.) I am becoming something not worthy of a name, but I can’t stop. I will not stop.

Whenever I thought of myself, I only dreamt of a better person, (Got any snacks?) but I lied and stole and killed in figurative ways and was left disappointed. (Oh, I get it, no food because this is all very serious. All depressing and stuff. I get it, I get it. My story is going to be kind of like funny, but not like obnoxious-funny, but like, clueless-funny, you get me? You get me, right?) That I had let myself be convinced that I could change and that that change was going to bring me my worthiness back. (Do you get me or not?) What, I walked the streets (We’re outside now! Cool, cool…) and wonder, who are they for. I stroll through them in a haze of forgetfulness always going nowhere and when I get somewhere, the first thing I think about is how to escape, how to avoid the contact I crave. (What the fuck are you talking about?)

Where could I go to obtain forgiveness? What clemency awaits me when I fall? Not from myself where I hate it so (What is this story even about?) much in there, and not from others, who barely matter and are prone to forget my problems. I turn upwards in a matter that is both painful and harmful, bended over to receive the light in loaded sizes. (We’re now back at your house, you gonna say that?) Forgiveness at last, of my past transgressions, and explanation, please, of what am I doing here, but I obtain punishment instead, to cry, and scream, and in pieces, I have to continue suffering, because then I can stop suffering at a later (Man, what are you keeping in these drawers!? Hohoho! No wonder you are so frustrated, this is totally not for you!) date.

Somewhere along those dates, I decide, in very broad terms, to become a very specific subject, to let myself breathe the room that I needed to exist. (Good for you, man!) I am no longer beholden to the nature of my curiosities, but I am also a nurtured individual that has learned what works and doesn’t work (Wow), what a fall it took me to stay and be, and that the person I am supposed to be, can be avoided, if given proper care and attention. (I guess that kinda makes sense, wait, is this good or not?) I am slowly the last desperate attempt of my body and mind to a normal life, the last remnants of a soul so longer fighting to not be divided, (It seems like you’re finally reaching the climax of this story. It’s been okay so far, but as I will say in my future story, if the climax is good, the leadup doesn’t matter!) and a scream can always be, a man can always be like this, if I so desire, and then, a little more, a little less, lose oneself, and if I am not very careful, I can end up enjoying the punishment, strike by strike, whip to whip, (Why this so horny?) in a sweaty moment that can last forever.

(Ok, I have no idea what is going on? Oh, it’s over. Great! Well done, man, care to give me any tips? The next one is my story and it is my first time, I’m a little nervous, don’t want to underperform, huh? You totally get me, right?. Hey, where you going? Hey! Hey! Ok, I get it, we’ll catch up later, haha …)