Eliza-Thorvalds

what a nice demeanor kindly old grandma vibes crocheting peacefully defending nazis a slap in the face to my calm to my safer space to my faith oh the humanity what have you become can no one be trusted can nothing be done a friendly old lady a fashy old hag a wolf in sheep's clothes who wants my kind dead

nach einer durchzechten Nacht (where I pulled a phoenix (aus der Kotze wiederauferstanden—und weitergesoffen)) will ich nur noch sterben doch ich darf nicht for if I die und der Feind lebt weiter they have won also träume ich von Weltherrschaft große Tribunale and making them atone for their sins and pay them back tenfold or leave this filthy world und ich weiß, es wird nie so kommen and I can fawn over Beren dream of a hero aber ich bin nicht Luthien bin nicht schön nicht cis nicht Halbgott no princess no power no love (nicht das ich all das sein wollen würde) (but it would be nice to be swept of my feet and have a fate) and so I contemplate meinen Medizinschrank und weiß, selbst wenn ich wollte würde es nicht reichen and I'd have to resort to ugly messy violent methods komplett wider meinen Hang zur Ästhetik and once again ich darf nicht we can numb ourselves aber am Ende der Nacht everything is back and worse and so i write and so i suffer and so i wish and dream of a world in

in the dark days of depression in dependency and desperation in dread, despair, and desolation the most diminutive of deviant decadences is the great shower beer be it Peroni or Pilsner Urquell Jever or [*plopp*] Flens perhaps a Corona or Kingfisher as long as it's cold and the shower hot with scalding water stroking my skin invigorating, almost painful a beautiful contrast a perfect gradient hot and cold it is almost enough to forget I'm alive it barely suffices to grant me reprieve

give me money, give me power give me sex, and give me drugs give me all i've ever wanted and it still won't be enough make me happy, make me sad make me suffer, make me mourn make me feel, anything, anything at all, at all, at all, at all make me drunk and make me high make me numb and make my pain the sharpest thing that can be felt make my life be something else

fuck the world fuck the patriarchy fuck musk and jkr fuck all the people who want me to die fuck money, fuck work fuck life, fuck death fuck sobriety, fuck drugs fuck all the things that make me want to die fuck love, fuck pain, fuck joy fuck my family, fuck my friends, fuck my life fuck music, fuck art, fuck written words fuck all the things that make me want to stay alive

do you want to be remembered or forgotten do you want to make an impact or fade into shadow do you care at all do you want to change the world or leave it unblemished do you wish your life a meaning or a swift end do you care at all does it even matter once you are gone or does the world just carry on without you either way you live your life, you die your death the world, it spins the lives, they end soon it'll all be over if we are so lucky i can imagine no greater torment than eternal life than knowing the consequence than having to suffer my inadequacies even more

there ain't a day that i walk by a lamppost and don't see a noose there ain't a day that i don't ponder how life would be, not there ain't a day that i feel happy or satisfied at least there ain't a day i want to see the next

bed. rest. hurt. pain, nausea, fear head and stomach and mind "never again" until the next time folly, oh folly if only i had some semblance of common sense at twenty-four i'm not sixteen no more twenty-four hours awake trying to work wanting to die trying not to feel shame twenty-four hours

i have, it seems, developed (or rather, gotten into) an antagonistic relationship with sleep i dream, i wake, i suffer, i dream for an hour, or two, or three and wake, gladly, escape the dreams i suffer i dread the night, i dread the day ever tired, never happy scared of sleep and life and everything recently i learned what it is called to exist as we do, everyday "passive suicidal ideation" how curious a phrase don't we all wish we were dead go to sleep, never to wake never been born, never awake never dreaming, never fearing i have seen the ladder out of the deep dark pit that is my depression but i'm too tired to climb and i don't remember its place and i don't recall its shape and i only know the light of chemical relief oh how much just one week of no good sleep has sunken me negating all progress dread tonight, dread tomorrow dread forever, dreams forever nightmares, terrors of reality hopeless, ever, ever

it is my utmost pleasure, dear Friends, and Enemies, and those in between, to announce my tentative unretirement! too often, in the last few weeks, have I used this path to conquer my pain, to not notice its merits therefore, dear friends, (foes, etc.,) I shall, more regularly than ere, inundate you with poetry from my aching soul