Never in my conscious existence have I imagined that someone can be brought into my life, and then be taken away in an instant… It hurts… It fucking hurts…
This is the one you cannot see, the one who hides, the one you’ll never hear, the one who lurks in the shadows of his own smile, the one with a black hole for a heart, a black hole for a mind, and three black holes for eyes…
An unexplainable feeling of guilt for a sin I haven’t yet committed, and a haunting sense of shame that I can’t run away from… What Have I done to deserve this…
You can feel your insides getting torn apart… And then you wish it was for real… You wish you could just leave this fucking hell…
You can feel hatred filling the void within, as anger crawls out of your blackness tickling your fingertips… You want to kill, and you know your target… He’s right here… Inside of me… Oh how I wish I could slit his throat…
Do you realise how much I hate you?
Do you know how hard it is to laugh while you have nothing but pure fucking hatred inside?

It’s brewed from the ashes of the last Raven-Phœnix, the one who opened the eyes of the blind, then shut her own; never to awaken, never to rise again…

What a beautiful day! To my fellow mortals; humans, cats, ravens, crows, angels and phœnix. To my fellow illusionists, craftsmen, musicians, artists, geeks, warriors, poets and rebels. To the hopeless, the honest, the sad, the ugly, the moron, the sane, the dead, the brave and the wicked. To those waiting to live, to those wanting to die and to those now watching over us. To YOU, the prisoner of your own virtual cell, locked up behind curtains of smog and walls of multi-touch displays, to YOU, once the dreamer, now the nightmare chaser. To everything that breathes, and everyone who no longer does, such a wonderful day to waste, such a glorious day to kill, such a good day to die…

H.Q.
9:44
Tue. 22 May 2012

Disgusted, all the way deep down to your inner-self… Your hatred grows tenfold with every beat your crippled heart tries to make… Love has no place here no more, as you can almost hear The Guardian impatiently boiling as he climbs up, with his claws piercing through your throat, promising of a painful takeover, chanting with fading words of an eternal anthem to self-destruction…

H.Q.
14:59
Thu. 17th May 2012

You do not fucking exist… That, I know…

Back to confusion, looking for words and reasons haven’t been harder, you barely have enough will to move your fingers and press these buttons; but they’re aching for something else… It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the trigger… Maybe that was your only chance…

Destructive, forgetful, hopeless, careless, regretless, impatient, depleted, exhausted, abused and damaged beyond repair.

I’d give ten years to go back another ten, to slap this kid in the face, to wake him up, to let him know it’s not worth it, to kill the coward puffin within, at least then some good could’ve come out of him.

You’re forcing words out of your fingertips, I’m trying to hold them back but you won’t let it be… I don’t want you to read my lines yet I’m throwing them unto your face, it is the mundane silent scream for

I take over.

And I’m back to erasing…

FUCK YOU H.Q.