The Batman Broadcast

Hey guys

This is my appearance back on here since I re-opened my blog.

After three months of being carless, I have one. We’ve become friends, it’s a boy and his name is BW.

So let’s get the creative juices flowing with some nightmares.

I don’t know how I came upon this, but I was dreaming I was at Witch’s Woods. Well, a totally botched version of Witch’s Woods. It was a huge carnival full of rides and I was having a lot of fun. After going on some tractor ride, I was walking around with friends (none of which I knew and could never clearly see their faces). There were horses roaming around everywhere. Some of them were thinner and taller than the rest, and seemed to be painted white. One of them had a perfect circle of red on his nose, as if he was Rudolph. His mouth could contort like a person’s and it was as if he was really smiling. I wanted to pet him so I walked towards him. He turned around and ran into a giant house that just magically appeared behind him. I looked around me, my friends were gone, the horses were gone, the carnival was gone, and everything had turned into a really quite neighborhood. My car was parked in the driveway of this giant house. I followed the horse inside, hearing him climb of a staircase. I walked in surrounded by staircases and, upon looking up, saw doorway after doorway. It’s like the horse was running circles around the house. It gave me the creeps but I walked towards the staircase where I could see his muddy prints. The moment my foot hit the stairs, I heard him screaming. Screaming in complete agony. I bolted. I ran out the house as fast as I could and jumped inside my car. As I was running towards my car, I could see all the shades, shutters and blinds being closed. Before entering, I had assumed this was a haunted house ride of some sort. Inside my car, I almost laughed at myself when I saw other teenagers and young adults on the second floor. It HAD to be a ride. Until I saw them screaming too, and saw the lights go on completely. The horse was tacked into the wall with long long nails. He was still fully alive. Running through air nailed onto the wall. Some figure stood in front of him, and disbowled him. His organs were taken out and wound up like feet of rope. The teenagers were blown through the middle, and hung from the ceiling fan. Somehow it managed to spin with them on it.  I drove and drove and drove until the sun came up and found a video store. Being a movie nerd, I went inside. I didn’t know how to explain what happened so I said nothing at all. I walked through the store and I fell through a hole. I was in a house with a bunch of people, and they were staring at me. Afraid of me. They said I was next. I was naked. They handed me two vials and told me I needed to go wait in the bathroom. That they would be here soon. I didn’t want to go in the bathroom, so I just walked around waiting. Uncomfortable in my nudity. all of a sudden three men, speaking in heavy accents came through the house. I greeted them all submissively, as if I’d been beaten into it. They all seemed very polite, said I was really pretty and went into a locked room. I was handed a message a couple minutes later. It said “what are you doing? Where are you? Hurry up. We have a plan.” So I went into the bathroom. I handed them the vials. There was a girl in a cage next to a lion. The lion was barely touching the ground. He was hanging from a bunch of hooks which were then hooked into the ceiling. He was balanced on his tiptoes. If he moved the hooks either ripped out completely or tore through his flesh. I was stared at and poked and prodded by these men, as if they were making sure i Was good enough. They asked me who I was and before I could answer, I was shot in the face.

I know dreams are supposed to symbolize something, so please tell me what this is supposed to mean …

Look me in the eyes and tell me what the fuck makes you so special

Misery follows me as if it’s my friend.

For the most part, I don’t notice it or feel it. If it’s not affecting me, it can follow me forever. The anger though … that’s another story completely. He is my wingman. He is the blanket I wrap myself in. The door I hide behind. I am aware that he is the worst kind of friend, but he is so easy. So convenient. To not be with him is hard. It’s almost … paunful trying to feel other emotions. My sense of compassion, regret and caring are extremely distorted. This has led me into a life void of true friendships, and has killed off any friends I DID have. But I’m not lonely. Where others see loneliness, I see freedom. On my own I can do anything. People only hold you back, slow you down, or take you places you never wanted to go in the first place.

Every day I go through the world wondering where I went wrong.

All of the decayed, tortured and troubled souls leave personal scars on my heart. Every single one of them contains a piece of me in the them. A piece of darkness. They disgust me and yet I can understand them. I am them. We are all pieces of each other, I guess. You could search the world and create yourself again from the traits of other people. So if we all came together, who would we be? Together do we make the face of “god”, or is it something else?

There is nothing quite like the feel of a new notebook.

You crack the spine just so it doesn’t look so fucking perfect. Smell the brand new pages. Why doesn’t my home smell like this? Like new beginning. Anxiety to fill up the pages with something worth reading … worth writing. Taking an empty shell and filling it up with what I would be if I were a hermit crab. I fill the spaces with my soul and sign it in blood. I work until I’m broken to create something you could destroy. My faithful dog. All you would have to do is leave him out in the rain.

Writing is freedom. But it is also the chain that bind me to the darkness.

Who needs a title anyway?

• First things first, I think I am seriously going to start writing on here
• I am going to write on here
• I am back
• Prepare

Would you rather own a luxury yacht or a private jet?

A luxury yacht. I love the ocean :)

Hit me with your best shot

Anxiety

The past few days I’ve been dealing with a boat load of anxiety and, for the most part, I can’t pin where it stems from. Last week a lot happened and it through my physical and mental state way out of wack. Maybe my head is just starting to deal with it now. I’m a little depressed I guess but mostly its just a bunch of strange OCD shit that I don’t feel like talking about or explaining. I feel like if I do it will just stress me out. I just have weird compulsions that are going hyper this week. The only person I’ve told about it is Donnie, but I feel dumb just doing that. Besides that, there’s the heavy feelings of worthlessness and ugliness. I think its led me to almost stop eating conpletely. And when I have eaten, its been with the hunger of a rabid wolf. And then that deep set guilt kicks in and I feel fat ugly, etc. Well, I can see what’s happening and it looks like I’m gonna have to start working out again. I don’t know why I’m writing all this. I just needed to vent in a semi-private place. I don’t like the way I’m feeling lately. I’m slipping into a really dark place.

Today is hell
Today is my birthday
Today is my death day
Today I will discover everything I don’t like about you
You will discover everything you love about me
Today I’m wearing fishing shorts
Today I wanna touch a beard
I want to swim in a dirty pond
Today I’m mad as hell
I want to break faces
Spines
Necks
Today I’m still alive
Today I’m still confused
Today I’m still lost
I don’t want the maps though
I don’t want the trails
The beaten path
Today I’m living off the leash
Today is today
Tomorrow will be tomorrow.

Is your sacred poem about the ocean?

No. I didn’t even notice that was done. It just happened. I relate love to water because of the…science of water I guess. I relate love to the weather and how one needs another to survive. Water is the only substance that allows people to touch. I think it’s romantic.

Is your sacred poem about someone?

No, it’s not. It’s purely fictitious. I have a boyfriend :). I just was sick of writing about him in my few gushy poems. I wanted to be unbiased and just, write. That would be troublesome if I was thinking of someone like that.

Where do you come up with this stuff? Like those really good lines you have?

Well, everything I write kind of forms itself in sections. These words just show up in my head and I hold onto them until I figure out where they belong. Like yesterday I said “he looks like honey melting in the sun”. I wrote it down right when I got home. That’ll go in something eventually :). My twitter account is where my conscience goes for the most part. If you really wanna see what I think about and how everything I write is formed, my twitter is the place to go.

How’s it feel knowing people admire you and think you’re a good writer?

Sometimes it makes me feel really good about myself, but for the most part I think it’s stupid. I’m paranoid so I think a lot of people just say it because they know me and don’t wanna hurt my feelings. But there’s been more people lately wondering about what I write and where it comes from. I never thought I was a good writer, I just wrote because I have to. If I don’t. I’ll explode. I was never good with feelings and I have never been completely open with people because I’m not good with words. LOL. When I write it just frees me for a while. Weird? Maybe. Most of the time writing just pisses me off. RAMBLING! Anyway yeah, all the attention to my writing makes me feel like I really should write my book. So, I think I will :)

If there are more questions feel free to ask. I answer them sometimes. This makes me feel famous in the nerdiest way possible.

Sacred

It’s not done yet. This is the unedited unfinished…tid bits. So don’t judge me.

You are unforgettable. Sacred. Lips like the shells that scatter the beaches.Our tongues collide like a hurricane hitting land. My tongue of grass and woodlands reaches for yours of sea foam and tidal waves. Hair wraps itself in my fingers. It demands me to stay. So I grip you. I anchor you so you don’t float away. Indestructible eyes stare through my insides. You try to stake your claim on me. You’re always gone too long and you’re always too far away. The vulnerable eyes search my emotions. You’re lips form the words. My hands wash across the plains of your face. Be quiet. You smile like two birds floating in a downward spiral, falling in love. With a personality of leather bound books and wild horses. You have wandered untamed, and now you’re asking to be held. You’re the man that walks on water. You’re the strength of a rock wall, protecting me from the floods, from the animals that lurk behind you. You’re one of those animals. Your eyes burned with intensity at our first meeting and now they burst with love from the sun. Our skin touches but never really connects. Is this why the water welcomes us so? So we can break the bonds of the skin and really touch. We are two tectonic plates breaking and smashing together, forming mountains that no one can ignore. We are apples and cinnamon. We are happiness that comes in burst, covered in longing. You rise and fall like ocean waves. My foglight that shows me how to get home. We started off so simple and innocent. We thought we were a mistake. But I’m the air and you’re the water. You need me to move you along. I need you to take me to land. We are eternally bound.

again, not done. needs editing. no, not aboutme. not everything i write is. it’s just… . nice.