Alone.
Quiet in, no matter how it seems out.
Alone, and empty,
As I lay here,
Dying inside.
Confused.
Spinning round, with the straightest of faces.
Confused, and afraid,
While I sit and think,
Remembering.
In Memoriam,
For the part I have lost.
For the part that dies,
As you walk away,
In Memoriam,
For myself.
Sorrow.
Weeping inward, laughing out.
Sorrow, and pain.
As I watch,
The tears bleed out.
In Memoriam,
For who I was.
For who I lost,
As you turned away.
In Memoriam,
For the memory of you.
Fake smiles,
Fake laughter.
Alone, empty.
Confused, afraid.
Sorrow, pain.
Goodbye.
Friday, April 16, 2010
On Christians and Exorcism.
Christians never cease to disgust me. If I use the term 'Christians' wrongly here, either complain/correct me, and I'll most probably ignore you, or get over it. Either way, get over it.
Anyway, back to the disgusting Christians. How do they manage to torture and kill people of their own faith without punishment? By blaming it on another religion, of course. I am, naturally, referring to exorcisms.
Here is what a Christian 'exorcism' seems to be to me:
- A believer is afflicted with a mental illness, is high, or both.
- People around them, and the believer themselves, jump to the conclusion of being possessed by a 'demon'. Of course, blame a rival religion. What have we ever done to them, except expose them for who they are?
- A priest is called in to perform the exorcism.
- The priest then proceeds to torture the 'possessed' with their own beliefs. The believer, being so believing, or mental, same thing really, often responds with spiritual, mental, and physical pain and hurt. I often wonder how much of this is subconscious acting, simply to fulfil the beliefs so deeply ingrained in their brainwashed/gullible minds.
- If the 'exorcism' is 'successful', the ex-possessed is now 'free of evil/Satan/demons/reason', and owes their life to their church. Their belief is now bolstered.
- Unsuccessful exorcisms end in murder.
How fucked up is that? Or is it just me? I wonder sometimes.
Now, go, read Dawkins. Think for yourselves.
Laugh at the silly Christians. Mock them!
Mock them, I tell you!
~Ashm
Anyway, back to the disgusting Christians. How do they manage to torture and kill people of their own faith without punishment? By blaming it on another religion, of course. I am, naturally, referring to exorcisms.
Here is what a Christian 'exorcism' seems to be to me:
- A believer is afflicted with a mental illness, is high, or both.
- People around them, and the believer themselves, jump to the conclusion of being possessed by a 'demon'. Of course, blame a rival religion. What have we ever done to them, except expose them for who they are?
- A priest is called in to perform the exorcism.
- The priest then proceeds to torture the 'possessed' with their own beliefs. The believer, being so believing, or mental, same thing really, often responds with spiritual, mental, and physical pain and hurt. I often wonder how much of this is subconscious acting, simply to fulfil the beliefs so deeply ingrained in their brainwashed/gullible minds.
- If the 'exorcism' is 'successful', the ex-possessed is now 'free of evil/Satan/demons/reason', and owes their life to their church. Their belief is now bolstered.
- Unsuccessful exorcisms end in murder.
How fucked up is that? Or is it just me? I wonder sometimes.
Now, go, read Dawkins. Think for yourselves.
Laugh at the silly Christians. Mock them!
Mock them, I tell you!
~Ashm
The Beginning - The Emptiness Of I part 2
In every town, there is a place which is always totally abandoned. Usually, it's a derelict house. The one in my town is right beside the school. It's a popular place for waggers, but no one goes inside. I don't know if anything bad happened there, of if it's empty just because, but it is always empty.
There are times when my fascination with fear and paranoia go too far. This was one of them. I should have learnt by now not to mess with things like this, but I couldn't help myself. So, on one stereotypically moonlit night, I broke in. The back window, the one facing away from the road was my entry point. The floor was covered in plaster dust, but otherwise the house seemed fine. Just unused. Unused and empty.
I climbed in the window, and walked across the room to open the door. The door opened cleanly into what seemed to be the hallway. The walls were bare and the wooden floor was again covered in a fine layer of plaster dust. My footfalls sent up little clouds of white powder as I walked. I treaded down the hallway, around the corner, and up a flight of stairs. I was getting kind of self-conscious about the footprints I was leaving behind, but I'd always wanted to come here. I would look around, then leave. No harm done.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I looked about. There was a landing, with two doors on either side. Heading left, I tried to open the door. Strangely, it was locked. Perhaps not locked, but it wouldn't budge, and the doorknob wouldn't turn. Locked, or jammed. Either way, I gave up on trying to open it, and tried the door at the other end of the landing. This one opened fine, and led to a large room with a huge window looking out to the school. I stood by the window, looking out, when I heard a rustle back by the stairs. Curious, I went back to check what it was. I couldn't figure out what had made the noise, so I decided to check the other room again.
I froze. There, on the floor, in the dust, was another set of footprints. Not mine, another set. They came from the room, and went down the stairs. Following them, I descended. They turned a corner at the bottom, and disappeared. Just stopped. Paranoid, I headed back up the stairs to the locked room. Trying the doorknob again, this time it yielded.
Suprised, I pushed open the door, and cautiously walked into the room. An old, neglected mattress was lying on the floor. From what I could tell, it was stained with blood.
Freaked out, it was then that I decided to leave. Quickly. Spinning around, I took a step forward, and froze once more.
For there She was. The being that would forever torture me. She looked so menacing, and yet so innocent. Short, young, but with an expression on Her face that wasn't human. Blood was dripping from Her fingers, from the ends of Her terrible, long nails. She looked up.
Her eyes are the most haunting things I have ever seen. I will never be able to get that image out of my head. Her piercing glare, threatening, pure evil.
That was how I discovered Her. Or perhaps, She discovered me. Ever since, She has stayed with me. A horrifying, torturing presence.
The pain I have suffered at Her hands. . . immeasurable.
The sorrow She has caused. . . unbearable.
Her very presence is intolerable.
The sight of Her causes pain in the anticipation of itself.
She will never leave.
There are times when my fascination with fear and paranoia go too far. This was one of them. I should have learnt by now not to mess with things like this, but I couldn't help myself. So, on one stereotypically moonlit night, I broke in. The back window, the one facing away from the road was my entry point. The floor was covered in plaster dust, but otherwise the house seemed fine. Just unused. Unused and empty.
I climbed in the window, and walked across the room to open the door. The door opened cleanly into what seemed to be the hallway. The walls were bare and the wooden floor was again covered in a fine layer of plaster dust. My footfalls sent up little clouds of white powder as I walked. I treaded down the hallway, around the corner, and up a flight of stairs. I was getting kind of self-conscious about the footprints I was leaving behind, but I'd always wanted to come here. I would look around, then leave. No harm done.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I looked about. There was a landing, with two doors on either side. Heading left, I tried to open the door. Strangely, it was locked. Perhaps not locked, but it wouldn't budge, and the doorknob wouldn't turn. Locked, or jammed. Either way, I gave up on trying to open it, and tried the door at the other end of the landing. This one opened fine, and led to a large room with a huge window looking out to the school. I stood by the window, looking out, when I heard a rustle back by the stairs. Curious, I went back to check what it was. I couldn't figure out what had made the noise, so I decided to check the other room again.
I froze. There, on the floor, in the dust, was another set of footprints. Not mine, another set. They came from the room, and went down the stairs. Following them, I descended. They turned a corner at the bottom, and disappeared. Just stopped. Paranoid, I headed back up the stairs to the locked room. Trying the doorknob again, this time it yielded.
Suprised, I pushed open the door, and cautiously walked into the room. An old, neglected mattress was lying on the floor. From what I could tell, it was stained with blood.
Freaked out, it was then that I decided to leave. Quickly. Spinning around, I took a step forward, and froze once more.
For there She was. The being that would forever torture me. She looked so menacing, and yet so innocent. Short, young, but with an expression on Her face that wasn't human. Blood was dripping from Her fingers, from the ends of Her terrible, long nails. She looked up.
Her eyes are the most haunting things I have ever seen. I will never be able to get that image out of my head. Her piercing glare, threatening, pure evil.
That was how I discovered Her. Or perhaps, She discovered me. Ever since, She has stayed with me. A horrifying, torturing presence.
The pain I have suffered at Her hands. . . immeasurable.
The sorrow She has caused. . . unbearable.
Her very presence is intolerable.
The sight of Her causes pain in the anticipation of itself.
She will never leave.
Of Volcanic Eruptions and Distractions
Oh, how I love causing confusion, panic, and fear. As I have surely mentioned before, human emotions are so enjoyable.
Another puppet of mine urgently 'needed' to fly across Europe. A matter of 'love'. These always provide the most fun. This poor fool had one chance to 'get the girl'. So, I decided to feast.
Nature responded to my calls. A number of volcanoes billowed smoke and ash around Europe. The silly bastard is well and truly stuck. He even tried to find another way to her. Determined.
Nevertheless, he failed. As a result, he is now sitting depressed in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, contemplating suicide.
How delightful.
~Sialon.
Another puppet of mine urgently 'needed' to fly across Europe. A matter of 'love'. These always provide the most fun. This poor fool had one chance to 'get the girl'. So, I decided to feast.
Nature responded to my calls. A number of volcanoes billowed smoke and ash around Europe. The silly bastard is well and truly stuck. He even tried to find another way to her. Determined.
Nevertheless, he failed. As a result, he is now sitting depressed in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, contemplating suicide.
How delightful.
~Sialon.
Monday, April 12, 2010
I'm proud to see that Google has finally integrated this into their search. No more having to send people URL's. Yaaay.
Anyway, I'm gonna be away for a while. So, you probably won't hear from me. Check the other blog for more details.
If I get internet access, I'll prolly tweet something. God, I hate that word.
Look for 24Ashm on twitter.
Be back soon
~Ashm
Anyway, I'm gonna be away for a while. So, you probably won't hear from me. Check the other blog for more details.
If I get internet access, I'll prolly tweet something. God, I hate that word.
Look for 24Ashm on twitter.
Be back soon
~Ashm
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