Roach Motel

Iz what it feelzĀ like in this hell-O I call a home at the current moment due to a cockblocking cocksuckinĀ  revolting cocksucker …WHoo-Aaah! Dammit..I need a line that I can cross (meaning…a very obnoxiously obvious ominous opportunity to fly / flee free like a bird, or SOAR like an EAGLE, rather…{as father would say}..).

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5E7E2

SE7EN huh…For Wha!? EGgZ-zACt-iBuB-Uh-eh-LeE?

rah

rah

rah

rah

rah*

*end of line*

 

I need rest…

My skin turns purple ..literally purple.
I sweat while i sleep ..even w 3 fans on me
My circulation is cut off my hands while i sleep so that i keep waking up.
I can’t remember the last time i had a good nights rest.
My feet and hands get super dry.
The dryness on my feet and hands peel in thick layers and my eczema is getting worse.
My dreams are becoming night terrors;
Nightmares-screams-molesters.
I have no energy.
Then i have too much ..after coffee
I hate this…

Finger Nail Clippings

no matter what…im always finding finger nail clippings on my floor. Actually found them on my cousins floor too when i spent the night last Christmas. I showed her and she did not recognize the color to be any of hers or her daughters. Funny since her dog found a “bone” in the back yard. And she tripped out. Also found a tiny letter clipping at her house as i do mine sometimes. I also find different color hair strands in my room. And everytime i leave i have to take all my cords and as many devices with me as i can, otherwise they wont work when i return…even to the bathroom. Its quite ridiculous since i live with my mother and her husband. All of my art is also defaced in sometimes suttle ways and sometimes not so suttle. I can hear her creeping around my door all the time too (shhhh). Its true. So strange these days are living with my mother. I think shes lost her damn mind. Anyway, everytime i return, my floor is dirtier than before. Its got black grease stains. Also, damn near every book i have has been edited and rebound. Who has the money to pay for this? Its odd. I really baffled by this. I mean i know bcus of the typos and the way its printed and because of the black grease stains on them as well. I dont know what to do about all this. There’s a whole lot more to it…thats just a few of the things they do. They mess with EVERY DAMN THING the eyes CAN see AND cant see. Trust me. Ive been through this debauchery my whole life.

Message In A Bottle…

The tiny spectras of lights …
They look like a pattern, something like an Aztec calendar or maybe a system of information; a telegraph; a document of sorts…data..like the computer chip instilled in the fiber glass…. It’s all around us. It’s everywhere in everything. The patterns of data that surrounds us; that we are blinded to see…or not see, rather. I see it…instilled…And it’s intriguing. It ignites my curiosities and ignites wonder(s{?} , wonderment{?}) inside me; within my mind; which creates a plethora of tingly sensational little pleasures in my mind…quite a thrill it is.

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