I am a Hard Shadow Eater. I made the name up. It works for me better than “such and such devi,” too much pressure to be pretty, kind, all those “goddess” lady like, soft pastimes that I just don’t feel…so it’s rough… and no white horse today alright, tomorrow I’ll probably be recovered…
and let me tell you more…
yes, I do have tears, tears you can’t find. Tears for the storm I see coming, the rain I will have to become. Tears for tears you won’t cry. Tears for the words I’ve given that don’t touch you, “I’ve fallen short,” I cry. I’ve given all I have and I never hid a word. You watch me from your silent screen secretly taking my soul without knowing, into tears you then cast back into me. I don’t care if you hear me, I’m the tears in your very own selfish heart. So don’t pretend like we’re the same because I cry for you like you’re God and you cry for you like it’s alll my fault.
Is this working…can you hear me now?
I may speak of tears as words of decoration. I may cry out love as a way to seduce a stranger. I may churn out sadness from a place so deep you won’t know what I’m saying. I could be someone else and it wouldn’t even matter. It’s all a disguise, a mask chosen as words to weave spells over yearning lovers like you. Stricken without a disease, only longing for a fantasy such as me. But let me assure you it all came out wrong, my words, my alias, everything. I used to hate the snow but now I love it. Cover me in a white Hard freeze until I think I’m pure. Until I’m numb, as cold as you. Until I’m just a speck of lost white…
how about now???
She said no it wasn’t optional, however his eyes were huge, striking back the clocks surrounded me, and he was the leader of them all. Some sort of fury outbreak, some sort of unhinged beast with a phantom of numbers he slid right under her belt like a soft horse dreaming away how it ran for a good reason, yes to be free from all numbers she said. I knew it was him though, the python with rules that always break, whips that always sting unvirtuous backs. Touching holy snakes, touching dark wisdom. She didn’t care what he said, he wasn’t real. He was a case of slivered eyes, peaking furrows, testimonies of how time is never long enough. I didn’t need a reminder that you didn’t love me, forever is long enough. My cold evil “tears,” the bridge I fall from, the death of moving over to the other side as if anyone is ever listening to her inner secrets instead of her inner thighs. I’m not stupid, everyone wants something, the same thing, sex and power and a rise to a new top. Weeds. I kill weeds like a cold I don’t need to have. You’re a liar, a Hard lust bone, a dumb dog as usual. But I’m the worst, a victim of myself, the bleak pull of it all. Flowers I tear out like hair for the insane, moon locks and rapists and cold leaving trails. Up my back, in my smile, a tail of a reptile. “Tears” aren’t much anyway if that’s what you’re counting on. I feel like a whore dipped in letters and words, for sale, like a desperate, discounted, out dated package of meat. Lamb blood, rare blood, the taste of blood. I could be bleeding. I’m not anything you’d imagine I’d be and so you beat me Hard like a steak. Isn’t that what they do. Tender meat, she’s not looking back at you either. Fuck your noose. Cowards should hang like an unnoticed moon, not me. I’m bright in the “sky,” giving you something and what have you done for me? Torn rings around my eyes? Well it’s not good enough, it’s not like I’m a party tray, an unopened bottle of wine that stunk anyway. Get back in your red hole and die. Go back to your red dog and die. Go back to your fearbag until I blow over, me the scary storm who knew you too well, call a parent, pat your own back for a job never started. Why bother writing it down I ask myself. It’s as useless as my “love” since nobody cares and only sees snakes biting and that’s no reason at all to imagine any of it is real. I thought I was, real I mean, but it was a lie, to myself who wasn’t listening, such a waste of time. The “tears” are going to destroy you and I’ll just let it all slide, ride, whatever. I’m just a bone, an excuse to leave a bad dream. If you don’t like my fucking story then move on. Hide somewhere else waiting to feel your own “soul,” get back striking hand, and hit yourself a little bit harder. Hit it Harder. Harder. Harder! You’re a liar afraid of the hole, afraid of the word, afraid of the smell of your own redemption. It’s a good thing I’m immortal is all I can say because humans suck the biggest dick I’ve ever see. Brainfuck, stop fucking your dream thoughts. It’s not nice to get wet before dinner. Oh I’m a cook as well, and that’s also insulting. So however you suck yourself dry, I’m still just a thumb you don’t want. Hell’s got my name written on it’s table of contents like I’m an unending disease, so you did the right thing changing your name back to earthworm is all I can say.
Bhagavan das says I shouldn’t kill because I could get bad karma, but I do it anyway. I’m at no shortage for words if you haven’t noticed, but it gets old, sad even, I’m tired of myself.
I’m always hungry I just don’t like the food here on earth. BD is always trying to regulate my “Trip” He’s like “What’s your trip?”…blah blah blah. “I didn’t see you eat today. Did you sleep last night? Why aren’t you eating dinner? Don’t kill things you’ll get bad karma.” I’m like “Whatever dude. I’m trying to get off this planet anyway.” I know it’s bad, I’m a curse, yeah I get your point…I’m not some Christian/ Buddhist, sweet caring feather Hindu lady all swamped with your tender “heart” either. Honestly I didn’t write the story today because I would have had to be:
“Love this, love that, moons, hearts, souls, oh his eyes…oh my beating heart, lots of flowers, etc.. all this shit that gets nauseating after a while. I’m not hoping for more, trust me. I get that my “tears” aren’t heard. Duh.
I don’t have any, I’m as dry as a desert bone, white and Hard just like you. I turn everyone on- it’s my only control- remember he said, “Once a stripper always a stripper.” Duh again. Geniuses abound. Oh I forgot, play “soft frail angel lady” for best results. Don’t threaten the invisible man. Haha. Wouldn’t you like that. Yes I hate fleas, ticks, mosquitoes blood sucking anythings and I kill them. I kill them good. I kill vampires and I really doubt “God’s” going to hold that against me. My dogs scramble under my feet like worshippers waiting for crumbs and I kick them. I kick them. Hard. You want honesty you got it. I suck. And kill. Hard. I complain because I call it clarifying. BD says “Don’t judge.” (he’s full of the rules believe me) I’m like…”Right, that’s a good one mr. police man.” This is all 100% true day in the life of me. Me, the Shadow Eater, too full, going to blow… Btw, get off your holy horse, I’m not “spiritual” so get off my back with the concerned “Namaste’s.” I hate that word, leave me alone. I’ll do it my way. The Hard way. I’m not holding any jurisdiction or massage parlor title. Ok? I’m just a guy in a rain coat on the side of the highway flashing Hard at cars going by too fast to see…it was a great loss, this scarred naked, soft body. What a waste of money, this soft animal skunk. I lay listening in the dark to a fan on high as my only sound of God. It is the fan, not I, who writes these prophetic words. My dog snores when she’s not sucking her feet and I go insane with rage/disgust and I can’t even yell STOP IT! because she’s deaf, just like everyone else. The night is long. Morning’s even a worse bitch- all up in my face shining, acting like I’ll never get it right. Whatever, you suck too/ you just haven’t written it down. Silent killer, you’re worse, colder than me. “Mystical,” yes me the God throb, fucks every word perfectly Hard and it doesn’t matter what you think or if you got off. I think of only myself and I always get the job done. Thanks for listening at least I say something even if it’s violent and starved for affection. I’m so real it hurts and that’s my biggest problem of all. Stop fucking my picture. It’s my black magic on you if you do. My tantric fuck curse on every limp pitiful dick who wants to get off like a slimy worm in a bathroom over a sink- or, I’ll let you decide as you look in the mirror milking mommy disguised as daddy ok? Oh mommy mommy mommy…I’m just sayin’ …add it up.
“It’s the mirror.” PROFOUND. Yes, I’ve heard that. Yes, thanks, I’m really fucked up…
reflections of me I presume?
“I’m just a mirror.” (BD famous words)
if you’re just a mirror then WTF am I?!
God it hurts,