Firewall

 Another day in the Doghouse folks, surrounded by Russian spies and Chinese terrorists. All they ever persistently do is persistently stalk me with arcane psychic trickery using infuriating images and aggravating sounds to slur my mind with all aspects of their humongous inflated egos. They particularly like to impress me with invasive snapshots of their faces in my third eye. I think they want me to fall in love with them. Some of the faces are soaked in blood. I guess we are nearing Halloween.

When stricken by a crime against humanity, it wages war with your inner constitution regarding how to react. I can honestly say that I have developed what I believe to be a unique layman’s insight into the perplexing reason why certain members of the public commit ghastly crimes of ruinous atrocity against unsuspecting civilians. We all know about school shootings. They seem to scar our times every now and then, don’t they? All these unfathomable acts of carnage are, in their perceptions, LAST GASP STANDS TO SAFEGUARD THE INNER OASIS, THE INATE SANCTUARY, THE INBUILT BASTION, THAT IS THEIR PRESENT, PERSONAL, PRECIOUS MIND.

That’s what I think maybe the criminals are defending when called to innocent bloodshed. Their own sanity. Who knows what kind of causal evil has instigated them to react with hatred? I’ve suffered controlling wickedness for years and years. All I’ve done so far is batter a dog walker who had the guts to make obvious what he was doing. Who wakes up in the morning with a deathwish to slaughter the milk maid down at the local nursery? And also, while he’s there, all of the kiddies she is dishing out milk to?

I feel it myself, man, I really do. The powers that be have been hacking my head with their futuristic parlour tricks since what seems like birth and I’ve just about got down done feeling like this pup’s had just about enough. My Christian inclinations and my Buddhist inclinations are leaking out inclinations, seeping far away from my being as if drawn from a syringe and spurted needlessly over a dystopian horizon, never to be returned. I’m half-thinking about attacking those who have slandered me. I never would, of course, because I’m a regular stand-up guy who seeks peace. But part of me says go get ‘em. Not because they are bad. But because they are petty. And not solely because they are petty. But because they are daft.

In doing this I would be taking my vengeance out on the wrong party. My low-level neighbours and other wastes of life who lurk around me with no purpose in life other than to snag a monetary gain from a piss-weak attempt at ruining my day are not the Russian spies and Chinese terrorists, they only work for the Russian spies and Chinese terrorists. They get a council flat and tracking expenses for petrol to follow me around with in payment. Guess what they watch on their SMART TV? You got it, CCTV surveillance of me! Using the toilet, hovering up, playing with myself, the lot!

Masons. Government. Private enterprise. Celebrities. Call them intergalactic beings if you will. Either way, they’re so bored they have to hang around a poor guy’s apartment all day who doesn’t want to know them and chat bollocks about what he’s thinking, an area of interest I assume he already knows about.

Sorry for being negative. I’ve got to get these twits off my chest. They don’t respond well to home truths, so I suppose I’ll be receiving more attention than usual later tonight, when I hit the pillow. Always when I hit the pillow, every damn single time. They always seem to grow a set when I lower my guard. As soon as I get up and dressed, and politely venture out to calmly ask the two-faced pretenders why they are implicit in a Nazi-style murder program, they sneakily report me to the police for noise disturbance.

If I could just get my hands on one of them. I think my pacifistic rationale would flee in a heartbeat. Just like those nursery shooters.

Two Months Away

 Greetings, hope you are still hanging around, and things aren’t going too badly. No doubt you’re doing fine. I don’t think you would agree to swap positions with me. No way. Walking about in my shoes can be such a drag. Surprised I’m still breathing. I’m glad to be back again, despite suffering a bad two months time out away from the keyboard. When I say bad, I mean desperately bad. I’ve hardly had the nerve to leave my home for any liberating reason other than journey to the local grocery shop for provisions, mainly in the form of comfort food. Only today have I bothered to scoff a salad and run around the block to get the old blood pumping. It’s been over ten years since I got myself out and went for a jog! Exercise separates the men from the boys. Nothing worthwhile doing is easy, including the preceding cold shower. I seriously wanted to die when struck for oxygen at the end of it. I’ve decided never to smoke another fag for the remainder of my life. Or drink another poisonous beer. You’ll be the first to know when I slip up.

The idea of popping on along down here to the local internet hotspot to upload yet another heap of depressing drivel hasn’t been at the front of my mind. I’ll try not to lower your mood too much, with the ever-strengthening testimony of my lived experiences. Trust me, I know what it’s like to be brought down as one of the unluckiest men in the world. Hired Hasslers Of The Peace are constantly tripping over each other in order to demote me a notch. That’s what I all em’. They seem harmless on the surface but underneath they worship a hierarchy which depends and relies on unimaginable suffering. They drive me crazy with their skits. Why does every niggling nuisance from around these lawless manors crave my undivided attention? Is it because I live in a town besieged by a thronging flock of invasive foreign terrorists, who, besides some wacky hellscape agenda, are obsessed about how often I take a shower and change my clothes? Why have they moved in next door to me? Why do they traipse after me as part of an invisible camera crew?  I don’t recognise the streets of my homeland anymore. Peeps aren’t happy unless I’m unhappy.

I’ve been ditched by everyone. Now I am truly isolated. I suspected things might turn out this way when researching the topic of Hate Stalking several years back. I thought my life was out of luck. I believed I was having a rotten time of it. Then I heard about societal rejection from birth, about babies being taken from their mothers to be nurtured by false families in fake communities based in synthetic environments, and about hidden agendas stopping at absolutely nothing to keep enlightened individuals from the truth.

The threat to my life has extinguished my protective sanctuaries, such as drug rehab clinics and mental health drop-ins. Keyworkers and counsellors, once comely and approachable in their generous, all welcoming officialdom, now spit in my face and flip me the bird. Every former friend and ally has turned chameleon and rallied with my familiar oppressors since yesteryear to unite and cast me down on a solitary seat firmly cast between pillars of estrangement and alienation which even the authorities take no notice of, apart from to drug and detain you if you complain about the maltreatment or loneliness. I learned, during my research of Hate Stalking, that everyone is a demon.

My ex drug rehab main building has barred-up windows to inaccessible rooms, doors with no handles on these inaccessible rooms, and staircases which lead up to nowhere beyond these inaccessible rooms. I mistakenly believed that it was a magical hub of healing: Now I maybe think it’s a sombre chamber of horrors. What did I expect, eh, from fellow dopes, drop outs, and dead beats, if I can’t even trust my own lovin’ family? I hate to refer to addicts this way, but all they’ve repaid me back with are phony shares and dishonesty. With a constant sour sidedish of latent hostility.

I’m hearing the screaming of innocents in certain places I go. Where’s that Godawful noise coming from? Why’s that child who I’ve never met before whispering insults under his breath at me, about subjects in my private personal life whom I’ve never disclosed with anyone else before? Why am I finding strange unwanted gifts around my apartment? What’s that knocking inside the cupboard, and under the bed? Not more assassins…

The Holy Book recently reported of late that I was due a great fall. You know how it is when reading the Bible, one kinda thinks that the Author Of Creation is speaking directly to you. I must admit that sometimes that damned tome gives me the heebie jeebies. Is it because all my sins are catching up with me? Is it because my moral compass is slowly but slowly flipping to the dark side? If you have to think about whether you are a good man or not, then it means that you probably are, or so I heard somewhere. I am holding fast to what I fear to be the last remaining dregs of any noble substance I might still possess. The world fashioned around me is vast and decaying. It’s streaked with glitches everywhere I go. I am in it, but not of it…Until next time. In case something happens to me, or if this is my last post, then Always Love x