Thursdaised
Greenlighter
wrote this a while back. Cant remember writing it but i think this was one of those close to death experiences that i just stream consciousness wrote what it felt like. My first language isnt English so a little transltion for some parts:
"Inget mer" - "No more"
"låt mig va" - "Leave me be"
"Hjärndöd" - Braindead
what i say when i lay on the soggy moss is sacred. A religious experience that inflicts a still continuous pain. I remember clawing my nails into the dirtbed with no regard to my own fragile body, how it felt like my nails were tearing off the unwanted flesh of my fingers. “Inget mer inget mer inget mer” “Låt mig va låt mig va låt mig va”. A doe stood over my head resting its front hoof on my forehead keeping my head firmly planted on the ground. “Hjärndöd hjärndöd hjärndöd” It whispered in a strained whistletone. The once euphoria of a sweet friend keeping me company did nothing to soothe my agony.
Thrashing back and forth I vomit without the feeling of nausea. The substance is pale green with a long streak of pink. No blood i know so much. my heart now runs on bile and shit. An oxygenated addict is a disgrace. You can not look up for your eyes have dried up and have gone stale. A delicacy for fancy seagulls, the doe still straining to make sounds. The pain was none existent. My nerves fried this isn't hell.
Ist mercy for my sins. Hell is fine, consciousness is torture. I heave and I abandon my comforts. No signs of getting better. I face the unknown. I wish for erasure and no heaven. I dread the void but still being aware. trapped in a hell that's never been described in religious script. The doe loosens its grip and I lift my forehead. “Hjärndöd hjärndöd hjärndöd” Loud and straind ist demanding my compliance, I lay in agony on the sacred moss, my nails laying at my side and the nubs of my fingers gutted and raw. I pray for every god to hear my plea of a peaceful end. The moss stays silent and the doe is screaming. Nerves fried, the agony subsides, Mercy has been given for the pain is gone and my dried eyes bounce on the edges on the inside of my eyelids. My flesh cant be felt im unsure if im alive. The doe is still screaming but she's getting quieter. The moss is sacred and I whisper my prayers once more. I'm dead? I cannot tell. I've been granted mercy for what's to come. For what i dont know and what pain i once felt is now dread, the doe screams louder and louder once again. Virgil please lead me though as you once did with Dante. Let my mind die and let me whisper my prayers, I wish for erasure and no heaven, Pale green medicine I wish you would give me erasure and no heaven. Doe i wish for erasure and no heaven. All gods that exist i wish for erasure and no heaven.
"Inget mer" - "No more"
"låt mig va" - "Leave me be"
"Hjärndöd" - Braindead
what i say when i lay on the soggy moss is sacred. A religious experience that inflicts a still continuous pain. I remember clawing my nails into the dirtbed with no regard to my own fragile body, how it felt like my nails were tearing off the unwanted flesh of my fingers. “Inget mer inget mer inget mer” “Låt mig va låt mig va låt mig va”. A doe stood over my head resting its front hoof on my forehead keeping my head firmly planted on the ground. “Hjärndöd hjärndöd hjärndöd” It whispered in a strained whistletone. The once euphoria of a sweet friend keeping me company did nothing to soothe my agony.
Thrashing back and forth I vomit without the feeling of nausea. The substance is pale green with a long streak of pink. No blood i know so much. my heart now runs on bile and shit. An oxygenated addict is a disgrace. You can not look up for your eyes have dried up and have gone stale. A delicacy for fancy seagulls, the doe still straining to make sounds. The pain was none existent. My nerves fried this isn't hell.
Ist mercy for my sins. Hell is fine, consciousness is torture. I heave and I abandon my comforts. No signs of getting better. I face the unknown. I wish for erasure and no heaven. I dread the void but still being aware. trapped in a hell that's never been described in religious script. The doe loosens its grip and I lift my forehead. “Hjärndöd hjärndöd hjärndöd” Loud and straind ist demanding my compliance, I lay in agony on the sacred moss, my nails laying at my side and the nubs of my fingers gutted and raw. I pray for every god to hear my plea of a peaceful end. The moss stays silent and the doe is screaming. Nerves fried, the agony subsides, Mercy has been given for the pain is gone and my dried eyes bounce on the edges on the inside of my eyelids. My flesh cant be felt im unsure if im alive. The doe is still screaming but she's getting quieter. The moss is sacred and I whisper my prayers once more. I'm dead? I cannot tell. I've been granted mercy for what's to come. For what i dont know and what pain i once felt is now dread, the doe screams louder and louder once again. Virgil please lead me though as you once did with Dante. Let my mind die and let me whisper my prayers, I wish for erasure and no heaven, Pale green medicine I wish you would give me erasure and no heaven. Doe i wish for erasure and no heaven. All gods that exist i wish for erasure and no heaven.
