I feel like my life's just out of reach, but how do you grasp something you only see out of the corner of your eye?

Thursday, May 31, 2012

There's not much to say.  I just sit here again, in another hospital bed again, without much to do or see.  So I've been reading and trying to figure out where I am.

I have no clue.

My room looks sort of shabby, 2nd ratye even.  There's a hallway, but there's no movement, there's food but I don't know who brings it.

I can stand again I

no, it doesnt matter  just a freak it   i just have nthing and i cant do this

dont even think
theres anything left of me now

all i can sleml is just gasoline  that smell

so stupid   had to prove my life

wanted freedom,  and now

just charred

just so afraid
even like this   so afraid of dying

i dont know why

dont even kno what to do anymore

just suffer


Monday, May 28, 2012

i can type bter now  but nott too good


shouldk be dead, damnti  should just dead

i dont think i my fingers  they work but
no flesh

just charrred
like claws

i ll kill him
or i make
him kill me

lost everythng now

my life

just a monster

Thursday, May 24, 2012

hardto typer  using pen   fgingersd   burbned  dead

shoiuld havedied now
hporrib le


whhy aam istill alive/

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Human nature is interesting. One would think that, when trying to assert identity, a person would go on the defensive, attempting to protect themselves in whichever way they could. One would think that one would try their best to avoid outside stimuli, for fear of their makeshift walls suddenly not being able to hold back the flood of disillusionment. Denial. Confusion. Pride. And eventual downfall; It’s happened so many times that it’s a wonder that there are still some on the opposing side of this little game.

How many losses does it take for a group to figure out they’re not going to win…?

I suppose that’s why Mr. Chamber’s –my apologies, Caden’s- little “challenge” proved so fascinating. And though I suppose I can understand why he’d do such a thing –losing your place in the so called “pecking order” must be truly traumatic indeed, I simply went to inform Caden that such behaviours would not be tolerated.

After all, there is no pecking order for our mutual friend anymore.

Not when you serve him.

Not when you belong to me.

What Caden never realized was that it was physically impossible for him to not play my game. I can’t possibly fault him for trying; the field was his, albeit only because I was kind enough to give him that option. The location he offered, the seemingly abandoned garage of a deserted country home, was a good choice. Fairly well lit, but with plenty of makeshift weapons, vantage points and shadows.  Not a bad spot for an ambush, and I was sure to make a note of that.

The only access point was through a wrecked car, which was a nice touch. Enclosed spaces are always dangerous to be confined in, and Caden seemed to be making the best of the situation, because the second I was inside, various heavy objects instantly blocked my access and exit points.

The man I made eye contact with as he doused the hood of the vehicle with gasoline was a broken one; somehow both manic and calm at the same time, filled with both murderous intent and fear, longing for my place and loathing for what one must be to get there… And so when the blowtorch in his hands was ignited moments later, I only continued to observe him.

The gasoline started to ignite. For a split second, there was only us two and the flames as company.

I must admit, from there I was slightly disappointed. There was nothing else. No second phase, no backup plan, no incredible turn of events that would leave me in awe of his abilities. There was only silence on my part and a thin shred of hope on his.

Hope that I needed to crush

Wishful thinking. That is what I assume Caden was cursing as I struck him from behind, the only thing left in my wake being a fluttering black leaf.

As I gazed down on him, bandages ripped away from his own fingers, I could see what he was so desperate to hide; how burned he was from that boiling water, the heated pot he held as he beat that woman to death…

The gasoline started to trickle in a puddle near him, under him, not yet consumed by the spreading flames,

And I decided to see how much a pawn needed to be burnt until it learned its place.

There are no happy endings. There is no matter of chance or co-incidence. Your rival won’t show up in a pinch, and you won’t gain a skill at the brink of death. No, the strongest will always win, and the weak will always submit. Anyone that says otherwise is lying.

You all have the chance to walk beside me. It’s something I suggest you consider.

After all, you don’t have much of an alternative, now do you?



Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Up a creek

Alright, so surprise, surprise, I fucked up again.  Don't care.

Don't care about nothin really.  Gonna die free when I go out.  All you fuckers can kiss my burnt ass for all I care.  Alright, some of you.  Some of you guys have been sorta cool, despite me constantly losing my shit.  So, yeah thanks.

I guess this is sorta cathartic though, in the long run.  Fuckin Spencer was the guy I saw myself in the same shoes as.  So, after I wreck his shit, I guess we'll see what should've happened to him, you know, not giving in to lunacy or whatever the hell verbage I can use for MOTHERFUCKING SHITSTORM OF FUCKED UP.

I gotta do this.  I'm psyched.  And tomorrow, I get to know what its like to be free, no longer weighed down by my own worries, this heavy weight that I've put upon myself, being a progeny of Redlight.  The REAL one, not this half-baked shit.

Lookin forward to it.  Lookin forward to moving on finally.

Stay frosty, and thanks.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012


Oh that's fucking perfect, the same asshole who I saw hit a bit close to home, takes advantage of that and fucks with me even further.  That's just great.  Is that why you are playing that role now, to get to me?  Why fucking bother, I'm just one dude.  What is it you want from me, huh?

Why am I even asking.

just dont want to

I don't want to write lately.  It feels wrong.  Its like...I guess, I'm ashamed of shit.  This talk about a Redlight, it keeps making me think about how stupid I've been at times.  I know, I know, I've hashed over that a thousand times already, and thats all there is to say..

I've gotten a nice number of comments at times, during this little blog adventure of mine.  Be yourself, you don't have to let anyone be in control except you.  Stuff like that.   Its appreciated...

but I still feel strings attached.   Its like, there's something I need to overcome before I can really be done with all this.  I know it sounds stupid, and sure, probably is, but I want to be free.  Its like...all I have right now.  The idea that I can make my own choices.   I won't wax philosophical about illusions,  you hear that term a lot, and I won't say make an allusion that the monster is control or something.

I just want to know, that if I'm going out, at least I have some choice in how it goes.  That's pretty simple, right?   Pretty stupid I imagine, but not much else to go for.  And maybe....I can get something done that'd be cool too.

So, you pretentious, cut-rate fuck.  Calling me your property, acting all non-nonchalant and all mighty from behind your computer screen.  Just LOVING that anonymity and perfect verbatim that only the internet can bring. 

You want a shot at me?

here's your chance
5/4/12   at 10:00 PM

If I see you show up early, I'm gone.  I see you've brought friends, I'm gone.  Anything that even LOOKS like you setting a trap, I'm gone.  And your little lectures will be for nothing, because you can't take me on, on my terms.  Maybe you'll hunt me down, maybe you'll off me, since I'll obviously be close by at some point in time.   But at least I'll die knowing I can defy a bitter, psychopath piece of shit, that likes to PRETEND to play mind games, but can't step up to the plate for real.

Your move.