Wrath & tears babeh.

THEY took him, digiblips.
The sole living creature that has accepted my crap for 16 years.

The problem is, life has been so much crap, for months, the last couple of years, I can no longer feel. It hurts, but I feel the festering below, the no-hurt festering, the slow sleeping toxin.

He's gone. poof, like that.


I'm so anrgy. I'm angry because I'm angry; I've got more self control than this. Angry at being angry helps.

Helps them.

They don't see. They don't know.

I see them, whispering, there she comes, that hysteric cunt.

They don't know the hysterics are all that keep me from simple killing them. Killing is easy. You don't even need a Kalashnikov like those bastards in Paris. A car, a bit of fire, all will do. There's a wind out, and it's howling King Lear's speech. They'll drown. I've got lightning at my fingertips if I call for it.

Killing is easy.

They are all digiblips.

Bastards. They took my Steerpike from me. They will pay.