francesfatal

[francesfatal]

recently rewatched death note for the 25248520458th time, and Light is still such a fascinating character. from the outset, i had sensed that there was always a certain inevitability to the manner in which events would unfold, irrespective of whether his initial intentions were indeed noble, which i believe they were. boredom plays a significant role, often underestimated in its capacity to influence the transformation of Light into Kira. the initial ideals he espoused—“punishing wrongdoers to aid the helpless”—were commendable at first glance. however, as is often the case in reality, it does not take long for an idea to deviate from its original path. as he eliminated murderers, abusers, and rapists, a wave of adulation from the populace began to swell, extolling his valiant efforts to enhance public safety and reduce crime. at that juncture, his motivations began to shift from a genuine desire to protect his community to an emerging belief that he was the savior of that very community.

this sense of superiority and savior complex gradually entrenched itself within him, increasingly overshadowing the essence of who Light was, as he became more identified as Kira. with the public's adoration feeding his need for validation, coupled with the realization that he wielded unparalleled power, his savior complex evolved into what can only be described as a god complex. he began to perceive himself as a deity among the people, convinced that nothing contrary to his desires could transpire. the populace would revere him exclusively, and he would exert complete dominion and authority over them, viewing them as his congregation, as their god.

it became evident after some time that he had grown weary and disenchanted with the act of writing names in the death note. there was a compelling need for a broader, more expansive approach; it required a touch of the divine, as if only an entity transcending mortal limitations could achieve such a feat. more so, i believe that envy was a significant driving force in this transformation. with no mortal possessing greater power than himself, the only entity that could rival him would be the deity in whom people placed their faith. Light does not harbor fear of God; rather, he aspires to become Him.

ultimately, it is a rather somber reflection. i recall crying over this matter at some point. in the beginning, there were genuinely pure intentions, expressed wholeheartedly, aimed at assisting when possible and safeguarding the innocent from the malevolence of Man. the transition from servant to savior is often a brief and abrupt one; it requires little power to transform once-pure thoughts into those driven solely by the desire for control and superiority. in the wake of Light's death, we find ourselves in contemplation. indeed, despite the multitude of individuals whose lives Light (Kira) extinguished, the first and most significant victim, as L noted prior to his own premature death, was himself.

[francesfatal]

castle hill farm, newtown, ct

[francesfatal]

9. amber waves

do you believe me when i say i have found my one purpose in life? it is, because i have heard so, all around me. the wind whispers it to me when i find myself out in the fields, and nature does not lie like we do. every single time i inhale my amber, she makes me ribcage clatter like a coin hitting linoleum, and my brain retreats its instabilities to a higher force. if you take this away from me, you do not wish for me to be free, this i know for sure. you could never grant me the privilege of indulgence that amber does. you will never understand what she does to me, for me. what you do is nothing to me.

i don’t find myself in good condition often when i am without her. beyond god himself, she is my rock; my body functions only to consume her as much as i can, until dying by her hands seems like the best way to go out. i tell her to take me, i ain’t gonna scream. she would, because she is all for me, grievances and all. i loved you, but my divulgence was something that you could not grow to comprehend, and i will not keep trying to make something work out between us. you feel how you will, and i feel many other ways. we must make sacrifices for unadulterated love, and so i let you go. i wish you all the best, but you could never be amber. maybe i will never be the one for you. i love being in amber’s catatonic haze. she has me, today, tomorrow, and forever on until she takes me underground with her.

john 15:5, “i am the vine; you are the branches. if you remain in me and i in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”

is it not fun, to feel many other ways?

[francesfatal]

8. thatorchia

i have discovered the cure. it came upon me one evening. it was storming to the point of flood, the tv warning of a possible brewing tornado. i was sitting on the carpeted floor in front of the glass, examining my bare anatomy like i had already died, as an autopsy. there is no other way to get clean, for i know the sickness that dwells within my mind, veins, and my very being. it makes me tremble with uncertainty, but bliss, as well. if the world was fair, i would continue, reaching that gaia as often as my body would allow. this is all for you, know that. i must stop so that you can love me. the me that is better.

i have scissors in my hands and i will take them to my inguina, i will take them there many times. i could never satisfy something so marred. and after, i will be better, and cured.

ephesians 4:22-24, “you were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like god in true righteousness and holiness.”

[francesfatal]

7. etienne

i used to flirt with death when things were on the brink of ending. with them, i also wanted to perish. there were many ways to go, but i did not want it to be traditional. i will do what i always have, and run. i ran until my lungs bled and pleaded for me to give my body its earned break, but my heart was still beating. there way always tomorrow to try again. surely, my body would give out on me one day, and i would finally fall mid-movement into the wire grass, limp and never moving again.

maybe there is no way to die if you grow to love the probable cause of death. i had always hated running, but after doing it so much, so often, i suppose i couldn’t anymore. how could i hate something i do so fervently. it feels to good to stop; i cannot. i cannot stop running and i cannot die.

2 peter 2:19, “they promise them freedom, while they themselves are slaves of depravity—for ‘people are slaves to whatever has mastered them.”

[francesfatal]

6. pulldrone

in this world, there is nothing you can be that has not already been. you know this, and you know this well, but on occasion, when the itch and pull is strong enough, something sharp stabs through you; it awakens you and beheads the apathy. your pupils are dilated and you do not know what is going to happen. but you want to, don’t you? break your own neck and look into the chasms around you. it does not matter if you do not like what you see, if you are curious, you deserve what meets your manic eyes. there is so much and you are only human. barely anything in this world is small enough for you to keep it with you, yet you try anyways. it is so overwhelming that you must do it. everything is turning. you are the most insatiable beast, trying to ponder the wisdom of god, but you will never get close to his prowess. incompetent humanity.

you are not god’s own, but merely a false witness. does this fill you with resentment? do you resent god? or, do you resent the place that you are in, the pillar you have become. your fury will only grow, for as long as you’re granted life. somehow, as you fall, you guarantee yourself that where you’re headed is not truly what it seems. you can feel the frigidity. i know what you do not want, where you do not wish to be. that is what you say, at least, but i know where your claws will be digging their way to. why do you wish to claw your way back into the great dark? you miss the depravity?

this is perpetual. you may not start again, but you will relive this punishment until there is no tail left to eat, ouroboros. even more so than in the beginning, you are nothing now.

hosea 10:13, “but you have planted wickedness, you have reaped evil, you have eaten the fruit of deception. because you have depended on your own strength and on your many warriors.”

[francesfatal]

5. onanist

god, thank you for allowing me the experience of human suffrage, of mortal torture. the greed i feel each night within my own four walls is the result of my own disparity and addiction to self-gratification. i am beyond the starting line of my own depravity, and i hope you can forgive me for this; i am a slave for my own pleasure. something is calling unto me. it was in the nights, in the past, but it is much more frequent now, beckoning me with a reverbed lullaby that my hands cannot ignore. i know that my redemption is only by your grace, and i know that my suffering is only by your love.

you want me to get better, to be better, to feel better. i am a weak vessel of my own addiction. i cannot stop. i have never felt nearly as close to arcadia as i do when i sink my hands into my flesh. i cannot stop, but i want to know you. i want to know your love. i want to see if it feels stronger.

2 corinthians 4:17, “for our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”

[francesfatal]

4. vacillator

i give a lot to you every time you want me. there’s only so much i can fear before the inability to move takes me back, and with you, i do not wish to be indecisive. you are so erotic to me in every way and in every place this world has to offer, but even more so when no one else sees. i know not what we have. at the most often occurrence, this does not feel like a relationship. not at all. when we are lying together after our own personal debaucheries, that is the closest to heaven people like me will ever reach. our skin touches, warm and wet, and the bedsheets curl around our bodies like the cradle our younger forms once slept in. better than anyone else could ever, i know what you need in the dirtiest of ways. i have watched, and i have learned, and i have done what will bring you the greatest highs.

but, please, i do not need a profession, nor a confession, of love. when those words escape your mouth, i struggle to see what this will ever become. i don’t like feeling in such a way. if you love me, keep it to yourself. i do not want to hear your declarations, neither said to me nor anyone else. i want to satisfy you till my body can no longer, till you do not want for anymore. keep all other things to your own self, for the sake of everything we have.

ecclesiastes 3:7, “a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak.”

[francesfatal]

3. housofpsychoticwomn

i love you. surely, you know that by now. before this, could you say you had been loved like this? this fondly? this harshly? you could never say that, and at a time long ago, i could not either. love was stripped from me like fur, and a reprobate gutted my insides like a white-tailed. i have been strung up from the skinning rack, just as you have. this is why you need to know that i love you. i love you. i was bitter and frigid for what seemed like forever after my encounter with the archfiend, but now, i know how to love, again. you do not know what it is like to be loved, for your love has been too soft and easy; that is how i know they did not love you. they haven’t pained you enough for it to be real, genuine love.

have you hurt? if so, who for? if you have, then maybe you have loved, but still never been loved. no one hurts for you quite like i do. no one knows love as closely as i do. i have hurt you many a time out of love, and i will until you realize what it is that i am trying to make you see. stop with this innocent delusion that love can ever be painless. if i didn’t love you, i wouldn’t be digging the knife further into your wounds, but i do, and you bleed for me. you do, beautifully. in secret, i bleed for you as well. that is love. soon, you will know, because one can only be blind for so long. if you cannot find beauty in pain, how do you expect to ever stay alive? i am only the beginning, but you will see me until the end. i will help you know what it is like to yearn; you have always yearned to be loved. and so, i love you. i love you.

hebrews 12:6, “because the lord disciplines the one he loves, and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son.”

[francesfatal]

2. punish

the sound of a swing creaking back and forth reverberates heavily before the simple piano-chord melody begins, all encased in a blanket of reverb. until the later swell distorted guitars and grit, this is all the song consists of. “whatever’s wrong with me, i will take to bed.” sometimes, there is just something wrong with you, you’ve known this your entire life; it’s been enforced by everyone around you, and therefore cannot be a one-off opinion. there is something about you that disturbs, and/or perverts. maybe, somewhere within the deepest corners and orifices of your consciousness, you may comprehend the issue, the error that makes itself visible to the point of exteriority, but for now, the cluelessness is all you have and all you want, poisonous and heavy.

the greatest of pleasures can nullify the sharpest of pains, and the peak of orgasmic satisfaction can nullify the biggest of shames. the only bliss you receive is from people who have been harmed by you, stricken down and weakened, demonized. the self control you lack allows you to give in easily, and each time you do not, the urge only grows heavier. no amount of guilt, nor shame, could ever stop you from your pleasureful perversions. love is a complicated thing and has always been, just because people do not understand the type of love you possess for the cossets doesn’t make it null-in-void. no, they would never understand the rush of the taking.

perhaps the best of pleasures is running your fingers over the scars, digging your fingers into the wounds until you feel the bullet again; if you could pull the hot metal out of the sopping laceration and shove it right back in, you would. in and out, again and again, like intercourse. it’s the closest you will ever get again.

matthew 26:38, “then he said to them, ‘my soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. stay here and keep watch with me.”

[francesfatal]

1. perverts

nearer, my god, to thee. the hymn begins grainy and old, as if being heard through a dysfunctional landline, and gets increasingly distorted and perverted as it goes on, before stopping while the song continues with the central ambiance found during the entirety of the music. it drones on like a faraway thunderstorm as she repeats the phrase “heaven has forsaken the masturbator”, while an arrpeggiated beeping begins to shape itself into the noise, creating a sort of hypnotic repetition as the droning pans from left to right. a loud, abrupt, almost electronically sounding buzz begins to pan, as well, and “no one you know is a good person.” almost everything in this song is distorted and ‘wrong’; her voice sounds uncanny and inhuman in every word that it says.

“heaven has forsaken the masturbator.” in 1 corinthians 6:19-20, “do you not know that your bodies are temples of the holy spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from god? you are not your own; you were bought at a price. therefore honor god with your bodies.” how could you ever honor god with your entire being and body if your thoughts are of the flesh? you are forsaken for committing such a dishonor of perversion and sin, for delivering your body and mind and spirit to that of the bastard, that of the profligate. do you find comfort in knowing that you are not alone in this tragedy? the people around you engage within the same bodily atrocity, handing their own selves the pleasure and mercy of masturbation. you know that this is not of god, and now you are not of god. you are a libertine vessel of your own selfish worldly desire. through all of this, fear shan’t permeate your psyche; this feeling does not belong to only you. it’s happening to everybody.

“it is god's will that you should be sanctified: that you should avoid sexual immorality; that each of you should learn to control your own body in a way that is holy and honorable, not in passionate lust like the pagans, who do not know god.” 1 thessalonians 4:3-5.

[francesfatal]

[francesfatal]

webster, florida.

[francesfatal]

there was a summer i started collecting knives…

[francesfatal]

Merry My Chemical Romance Yo Gabba Gabba performance to you!

[francesfatal]

[francesfatal]

Winter in Amsterdam, 1917