Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Murder, most foul

Murder, most foul--my post from this morning may seem relatively normal, but it actually was a fucked up morning. I was so drugged that it I couldn't get up from bed until 11 am (I did a quick morning read in a semi-conscious state when I posted the blog). Last night, I suffered grievously during the abductions. Actually, I think I was abducted by two, possibly three parties. The abductions by the patriots is not what is driving this post--good vibes I can keep to myself. The negative abduction is what was driving me crazy.

As I write this, the edges of my eyeballs have literally been sucked out, as the MACHINE tried to extend my cranium once again, and I have massive swelling behind my eyes and brow ridge. My clothes are hanging off me like I am a scarecrow, from where they excised major muscle from my beck and upper chest. I had trouble getting my bike up the basement stairs. I have a plank that I use as a track, but my strength has been severely impacted by the loss of my chest muscles, and I found it unusually difficult to push it up the track.

Once on the bike trail, I was spitting every few minutes from the thick shit spittle in my mouth caused by excessive female hormones. I was suffering from the peculiar motion sickness (on a bike) that I get as an aura to my migraines. As a matter of fact I felt that I was having a dry migraine again, with my eyes barely able to stay open. I have been given drugs--benzodiazepines and cannabis (thank God they got rid of the THC) to address my autistic anxiety and hyperactivity. It is mostly working, but I had a flash tonight that has me stressed to the max.

I was watching an old rerun of the cop show, "The Closer", which I enjoy. It was about the murder of a back-stabbed prostitute. Now, I had seen that show before (it is a classic of the series), and I am not squeamish about murders--having been a case manager to dozens of them in my correctional career, but the murders were arousing weird feelings in me, when all of a sudden, I started feeling like I had seen a murder. Of course, it would have happened in an abduction, and I was in denial, shaking my head. I tried to tell myself that it was a mind manipulation trick they played on me, using a snuff film--the sick perverts do that kind of thing--but I don't think so.

I can't remember much--except to remember that I witnessed a murder, but just as I suspect as when I was anally raped, I was given a choice--to accommodate to their wishes or suffer the consequences. I think that they raised the ante, so that I watched a murder to leave me filled with guilt, horror, and shame regarding the sexual act because I suspect that eroticism may have been involved. I may have seen her engaged in a seemingly voluntary sex act before the murder.

If you don't think that this kind of shit happens (especially in the Amon-RA cult), read the stories of the sex slaves whose life have been a sheer hell. Right now, the only one I can remember off hand is Cathy O'Brien and Arizona Wilder, but there are a couple of the others who have written about it (Trance Formation of America). I remember an incarcerated youth telling me how his satanic cult (he was in some heavy shit, and things ended badly for him), burned a homeless man alive as a sacrificial offering in the southern CA desert. At the time, I wondered if mental illness shaped his narrative, but now I know that he was telling the truth, recognized that I had suffered at the hands of satanists, and was trying to ease his own burden.

You know, I really have been avoiding writing about what my suspicions now that foul play, was involved in the deaths of both my father and my sister (sucks to have an occult-pedigreed surname), because I wanted to be sure, and then I didn't want to deal with the emotional pain of it all. Now, I know, I must write it all down. Secrets are just something the goddamned satanists use against me. I won't go into it tonight. I need to sleep off the horror of the memory, but I will. In the meantime, satanists continue to stalk me, but you know what? When it happened today, when I went to the local mart to fill my water jugs, I just walked away. For years now, I have been able to spot the sick, spiritual bastards, but normally I just ignore them. Today I had had enough, and just walked away. When did I witness this murder? Last night--I have had no problems watching graphic police or war stories before...

Don't know, Need to go to sleep. Hands are completely numb from all the cutting they did on my shoulders, chest. they have stubbed off my fingers, leaving me with child sized fingers, and monstrous sized hands. I don't care. No matter what, I am not giving into those perverted, soulless monsters on anything,

No comments: