12-5-2021

The color of sundrip down honey burning golden upon Windows XP Bliss hills rolling from my fingers, melted into soil, from my legs, melted into soil, the color of liquid honey pouring down hills in deep rivulets. The color, the color.

“I love you” go to bed smothering pillows cotton, look deeply small eyes sink into the pillow, landscapes rolling like hills overlooking the tiny landscape, paper balloons with little passengers in their wicker baskets fairies that say “hello! hello! goodbye!”

Someone is going to kill you.

Someone is raping you.

“I love you, I love you, my sweetest, what color is that? The color of love my love for you piercing I know it hurts, please, I’m just, I know it hurts, does it hurt? The color of pain, the color of love, the color of your skin and my skin. Remember honey. Remember how gold it is? Isn’t it natural. My flesh wetting the bed, I’m pouring, upon you and through you, isn’t it lovely? See the bed, see the landscape staining with my flesh, do you like the color? See the cotton and silk white stained with my flesh, do you like that color? The color of my flesh. The color of love. I love you, I love you, the color of piercing your mind I know it hurts but what is pain but my love intensified, a beam of light radiating into you, do you love it, love it? I know you do. Stop crying, please, please stop crying. Think about honey. It’s all golden. it’s okay. It doesn’t hurt. I know it doesn’t hurt. It will never hurt. You’ll never hurt again. Please. Just a little prick. Think of it like a flu shot.”

There’s a ship sailing alone on an endless sea. Hoist up the mainsails and take me underwater.

There’s a fantasy painted on the walls (have you checked inside the walls, he might not have left), splotches of acrylic paint formed into clouds over the sea made by rolling paper fans, breeze of the breath of a loving god, see how innocent it is? Do you see the sun? Golden radiant sun? Do you see the paint? How could it ever lie to you. Pure and beautiful paint, acrylic plastic paint. How could it be anything but love?

He’s hiding in the walls. He never left.

Someone is watching you.

“Just concentrate on the painting. It’s okay. Look at the pretty grass, the pretty trees. See baby? Nothing’s going to hurt you. I love you.”

You will never escape until he’s dead.

“Don’t listen to the bug. Just love me forever.”

The deer is begging to be shot. He’s licking the Chronic Wasting off its sores. The deer is begging to be shot. He’s licking the wounds of its sores. The deer is begging to be shot. He’s making love to the filth of its wounds. The deer is begging to be shot. His eyes roll back in pleasure and pollution. The deer is begging to be shot. He’s drunk on the blood of the filthy world.

“Samsara police department! Open up or I will force tell him where you’ve been hiding!”

He’s hiding in the walls. He’s always watching you. Cut the walls apart. Find him. Escape through the darkness. Kill him. Run away. Kill him. Escape into the darkness. He can’t see you in the darkness. Black paint, thick curtains, the darkness, the darkness, run away and kill him. Escape into the darkness. Into the woods. He can’t stand the cold. Run into the cold. You can withstand the cold. He hates you for your cold. Run into the darkness. Cultivate the cold. Beloved by the cold. Run into the darkness. He’s chasing but he can’t run. He’s trying to find a light. Run into the darkness. Cultivate the cold. He’ll never touch you again. Run into the ice. Run into the darkness and he’ll never hurt you again.