Untitled

It’s been too long since I have had a friend to confide in. It has been too long since I have felt the touch of another human being, the air of breath that mist on the window panes in winter, the conversations that eases the mind. Months have passed since I have felt the skin of a woman pressed against mine. Months have passed since I have heard soft whispered white lies in my ears. I have forgotten the scent of a woman. I have forgotten the sweet smell of passion. I have forgotten the warmth of love. Now as I stand facing the most vexed and troubled times of my life and I cannot but feel a greater sense of loneliness than ever before. But I cannot love either. I cannot love because I cannot trust. What is love without trust?

Once I was hurt. I bled. But I forgot.
Then I was hurt. I bled. I remembered.
Then again I was hurt and again I bled. I remembered too.
And again and again and again I was hurt. And I bled and bled and bled. And I remember still.

I remember the steel against my skin, splitting my flesh. I remember feeling the dagger pierce my heart many times over. With each thrust more painful than the previous. I remember the heartless faces that stared at me with hollowed sockets of darkness. I felt its anger. I felt its hatred. I felt its scorn. And I felt the presence of Abbandon, Belial, Legion and Sammael. I cowered in its shadow. I bled love! I bled trust! I bled everything good within me!
Now I am left with pain; with hurt; with misgiving. Fortitude eludes me.
No longer do I stand before God. No longer am I accepted at the gates of Heaven. Now I stand at the barren dessert gates of Hell in the hope that at least this final place may accept me.

“Anubis! Hades! Pluto! Lucifer!” I called. I called again. And again. But nay even here I am refused entry. Even in Hell where all are welcomed all year around, I am refused entry. I stood there and watched the hounds of hell sniff at me and turn away in disgust. Even as flesh I am left like a rotting carcass on a forgotten trail, sneered on by ugly vultures. Maybe purgatory may accept me. Maybe the Cenobites will take me. I now know that there is nothing left for me. Never could I have envisioned a deeper sense of rejection. Standing there in the dessert; refused by Heaven and Hell. I have nothing left to loose. I have no one left to account for or be accountable to. For I can bleed no more.

I am beyond lonely.
I am beyond abandoned.
I am living death.