Thursday, June 28, 2012

From a name

I am trying to hold myself together.togethertogethertogethertogethertogether
preliator sanguis
Chelsea's loss was regrettable. terra terroris
regrettable torpor fereus
There is no time to rest. tremor infernus
timeo invictus no time
CRITIC and the REQUIEM are watching. extinctor fortis together
es angelus 
FERMATA is closing in. unsichtbar regrettable
dunkler als die Nacht. älter als das Licht
The Choir incapacitating. überall zugleich no time together
fliegt schneller als das Licht Obfuscating
No time to rest, no space to leave. Daemone, parce mihi
furiosus occulos timeo notimetogether regrettable
Alone with the noises of the dead. alonealonealone carne hominis mortalis
Semper secundo odorem sanguis No time together alone hiding
I can only hope that I live long enough to see my end. predator cerberus
alles verfällt dem Dunkel,
qui vi vit infernus
es gibt kein Entrinnen.

Scrambling alone, no time together, regrettable. They watch as the cold closes in.

Friday, June 22, 2012

shes gone

CRITIC hasnt left
it probably never will
and i dont care if it sees this anymore
which it will
it already knows about this blog
its known about it forever
and would know even if i didnt make this post
another mark on my record
its been a week now
and i cant go near her room anymore without protection
things are much worse
theyre coming together
i saw him the morning after
after awaking from the nightmares
he hasnt moved since then
he waits for something
he could get his prey so easily
and probably already has
but the REQUIEM just stands there
taunting me
and the noises have resumed
the choir has finished laughing
but from where they come i have no clue
is it the mirth of the dead or the mocking of the living
and to add injury to insult to injury
to insult to injury to insult to injury
my ac has broken
as has the world
it reads 75
or so i believe
but it is not 75
and i am not a fool
its so hard now without her
but i know what this means
i feel so alone
and FERMATA is closing in

Friday, June 15, 2012


The gaze has lifted. After fourteen days, I'm finally free to do something.

But I don't know how long I have. CRITIC isn't one to leave for very long. I once thought he was gone, but an instant later, he was right there again. I guess he blinked. Ten days in, and he has to blink sometime. But he's gone now. He's gone and better still, the voices stopped! The Choir laughs and CRITIC averts his gaze and Thomas Blake is free to tell the world of his confinement! And now the blissful silence is my only companion here.

It's been so long since I've checked up on Chelsea. Her damned babbling kept driving me away. But now I think she's asleep. It's been three days since she last slept, you know. I think. Perhaps she slept yesterday, but the Choir made the babbling. Who's to know!

But the Choir's gone and CRITIC's gone and I have just enough room in this room to jump for joy at it all! I would dance, but this room is full of these useless papers. Don't even know why I bothered with all this, it's all junk anyway. Nothing to see, nothing to do, nothing to hear but the sounds of

theyre not going to be gone forever goingto checkin on chelsea

will report in if i find anything

Friday, June 1, 2012


It's surprising how debilitating it can be. It's been what, a week and a half since I've successfully updated this? Why do I suddenly care who or what sees what I'm writing here?
Because it is watching everything now.
Things are bad. Chelsea isn't in her right mind anymore, and I worry I'm not in mine, either. She's started talking to nobody for long stretches of time in our room. I tried listening in once, but I don't think I want to ever again. Whatever she's saying isn't in English, and I've long given up on determining where the obfuscation begins. Her rants sometimes last long into the night and I've taken to sleeping on the couch now.

The fact that I'm aware of all this must mean I still hold on to some shred of sanity. The fact I can still question my sanity must mean something similar. I'm not completely gone.
Being sane only makes it worse.
But I wonder how far off the breaking point is.

I'm still hearing voices constantly, and I'm still able to tune them out for the most part. I can't remember the last time I've used my voice or actually wrote something with pen and paper. All this I can live with, to an extent.

But the paranoia. This is new to me. Being rooted to the couch in fear for days on end because there's something out there watching me. Being seen no matter where I try to hide.
Having every movement under scrutiny.
No, this is the true hell.
And the Devil is your only judge.
CRITIC is closed for now. When it opens I do not know when it will close again. But I cannot do anything until it stops watching.
Because it sees this, and knows this blog is a crime against it. And crimes are meant to be punished.