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"As the greats have said:

I will never love again.

To try is to lie."

- To Have Loved and Lost, 9/8/2024

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"Black cats and evil eyes; a most crooked path disguised - as to those most blind and faithful - the devil."

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"I beg you now,

With what kindness I have left in me:

Do Not make me talk through my teeth..."

- Untitled and short, 30 July 2024

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"What is pain to me,

But a fly on the wall -

In a house that has been longer dead -

Than it has ever been alive?"

- Melancholia, 20 June 2024

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"Even more so than my enemies,

The Blood of those who quite simply -

And quite foolishly -

displease me -

Shall sate me..."

- A little something I thought up while being out and about.

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"I did not have a hand in your father's death. But I will hold the sword that leads to charge to yours..."

- Something I feel that my character would say.

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EXCERPTS FROM THE SKETCH BOOK: Five Panels of Untitled Graphic Novel; written by TENN RINGS, illustrations by THM

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"The very thought of it -

They very though of it I just as soon full out myself -

Vexes me.

And that is the thought of you.

And I am not to you -

Something that is to be thought of;

Not anymore.

Instead, I am to be dreaded;

Pondered upon lividly and deadened..."

- yet again, another unfinished piece I found.

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"Of all, which is hardest -

To fall in love,

Or to fight it?"

- 01/10/2024

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"Never are we born young.

In fact, I am most certain -

That we are all born killers."

- 01/06/2024

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"Are children of God, or the Devil?

Before birth, one knows next to none.

Only that we as man are not worthy to revel -

In the Heavens or Hells they bring upon."

- 01/02/2024

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"I am the master of grudges,

The keeper of transgressions,

And the embodiment of reckoning.

May the bridges I burn light the way."

- An absolutely heroic saying I heard out in the wild today.

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Picture, if you will -

A Christian and a Satanist.

They speak of what is known and what is real;

Then they speak of God,

For there is indeed -

A difference.

Believe me when I tell you -

That such a sight is that of a horror movie,

In that it is horrendously entertaining -

As it has always been -

To watch the years-of-plotting killer -

Rip at the seams, the victim -

Who thought at once -

He outsmarted him.

Of which do I speak of,

You think?

You must.

- 09/30/2023

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Live or Die?

A little musing that I vaguely recall writing, sometime after i left the psyche ward.

“You decide… Are we gonna live or die?” - Kendrick Lamar

And on that note, I will state this:

I am not the hero. Nor am I the villain… For now, it is far too early to tell either or when it comes to the likes of me. But who knows? Perhaps I might stay that way; maybe even become greater. Or worse. By the grace of what I’ve been taught, I'll tell it eloquently as it goes… or rather, let's hope I will.

Mind you, I write about anyone and anything that isn't in fact me. So forgive my reluctance. In some stories, I've already been killed off, or deemed unnecessary.

But enough of all that. Let's continue with what we came here for, and it just so happens that I get to choose the setting.

Let's start this off with - say - an asylum.

Yes, I know. Utterly cliché, but it doesn't have to be good to be a classic.

So I emerge from an asylum. Not the modern day ones, claiming to be psychiatric wards or institutions, but one of authenticity! Straight from the stark black and white honesty of the 20th century.

It's grimy. Zinc white. When you blink, you see its walls glowing on the back of your eyelids…

A place like that - after so long - becomes more than a memory. It becomes a conscience. And let's just say I've been there long enough for it to now be my only conscience.

Stick that back into society and what do you get? A loose canon? Sure. Unpredictable instability. Maybe.

Delicious mystery, and hunger for the inevitable… Absolutely.

To a person like me, the asylum walls grow wider, swallow up the rest of the world, making itself bigger. There is nothing beyond that. And differentiating the good and bad times - well, depends on the meds you're given, and what journey or endeavour of the day that comes with it.

Today, it is release. I've just signed all my papers, and switched my uniform for street clothes.

Now, but a threshold away from the outside, and I still don't see. Or I see half of it. Like being blind out of one eye.

The legend to that is that you see earth through one, and the glory of heaven through the other. Only in this case, the twisted purgatory I just left.

Should I have really done so?

Am I truly in that good of a state?

If I myself am not sure, then how should anyone else know?

Seeing it not fit to turn back around and squander anyone's perspective, I walk so far until the looming building is but an old, dusty box in the distance, amidst a new city of opportunity and chic remodels. I was never knew for the new myself, but one must learn to adapt. That's what I tell myself, as I try to ignore my right eye (my bad eye) and what it showcases shameless with every blink. Blink, blink, blink.

Now you're probably wondering: where does this story truly start? Not too far along. In fact, we've merely just hit it. You see, I always portrayed myself as an actress in my worlds; insanely fictional, but ingrained with pieces of inspiration from that of the real, naturally. I may be a writer, here and now. But say, for the sake of an Anti-Hero’s story, I could be much more. Besides, I already am an actress. (of occasional sorts)

So I get this opportunity - a very challenging one. One that every other actress dare not touch for the sake of their reputation. They themselves are the character. And rather, the character becomes me. That is what I'm known for. In plain english, it is called method acting, and no matter how the methods you go about it intensify, you do it for the sake of believability; for the honor. Not for yourself, but for the character. To you, they are real, and they cross over into reality through you. You just need the proper way of channeling…

And how I channel - I return to the asylum.

If you haven't guessed by now, the character I will be playing is of that particular stature. And I'm not the first one to do it.

It's just been a while since somebody has.

I'm a grand enthusiasts when it comes to paying homage, so I think of it as that when I dared to step over that threshold again, into the place that I've mentally never left.

However, the brewing question, that could possibly be the entire plot to this adolescent story: will I be able to channel what I once was? And if so, will I be able to get out of it when the time comes?

And furthermore…

Did I really need to come back to this place, when perhaps I've already been in possession of what I needed?

The walls were just calling… calling.

Don't you hear it? I do, too.

Will it kill me if I get closer? Or farther?

Well, fate. As I've said before - You decide…

“Are we gonna live or die?”

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...

...

Let me tell you this:

No rising sun will fool me

When there's dark to come.

...

...

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"For our deeds there is no cost -

We defenders of the lost.

To keep the fire and fawn apart, we set ablaze what wast.

And is,

And will be,

So long as they keep aloft -

Their prayers -

To their to God to be.

We will, and at no cost -

We defenders of the lost."

- Another oldie; was meant to be a chant.

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“These nights were all so peaceful,

before these buzzing lights-

and the sad songs that come with it-

of servants who dare not fight-

another war that they’re not granted-

moved to the corner of our street.

ABANDON YOUR WINGS HERE, it says,

the sign below your feet.

Within, just past the labyrinth-

of sirens that scream your guilt-

there’s the sound of a pretty chorus-

on which heaven used to be built.

Rejected now, they sing louder-

to make their father displeased.

Here is where the FALLEN ANGELS come…

And they come here with the breeze.”

- An old number I found from high school. Was supposed to be the intro to my first fanfiction; of which I never completed.