I'll be the Organ Grinder... You be the Monkey

[Deleted]

She's pounding on the door She's crawling on the floor
Oh, she's so coy...
She's scratching on the walls She's clawing at the gauze
She's so coy...

Pain. I thought I knew a thing or two about pain, thought I understood, the ravages and insanity of the very voices within my soul… I thought that was pain, I felt, I believed that the fire of hell, the licking flames that burnt and bubbles my tortured skin were the very epitome of pain… But them, there was him. There was softness and light, there was quiet and he took it all away.

Do you know how it feels, to be a creation of everyone else’s ideal? Can you possibly comprehend the fear, the break, of your very being…? When you look into the mirror and the eyes you see are not your own, the reflection staring back at you is unrecognizable, a monster… Shame.

And they laugh; they think it a gimmick, a joke… My very sense of self absorbed by the cruelty of the devil that lives inside me… And they think it a game, or think me crazy… You don’t understand, you can’t, these hands – they are not my hands… That laugh, comes not from the belly of me, but the belly of the beast…And he rears, he waist, but he hungers…

And in what was once the silence…. He screams.

She's gnawing on the ropes She's pulling at the hooks
She's so coy...
Oh, you know she wants it The way that she taunts me
Damn, she's so coy...

*SLAM!*

The crash of the door behind me resounds in my ears, but it is enough, to drown him out… Wait, please, he begs, but it is enough… He made his choice; he left me there, in the hazy light of day. His taste still on my lips, that my fingertips brushed into a smile as my body recalled the touches of the night before… Bliss.

Broken. Shattered.

I shake my head and push through the halls, it doesn’t matter now. None of it ever did… I just want to be free from this arena, the noise... It feeds it. I keep moving down the hall, turning into the parking lot I pause, leaning forward to look for the car supposed to be waiting for me… My hand tightens around the strap of my bag, I can feel him… Hear the footsteps running behind me...

My heat quickens, it pounds, it races… Where is that damn car?! Don’t let him catch up; I can’t look at him… Not now… Please...

The screech of the tires against the cement floor is like the harp of an angel to my ears as I swing the door open and toss my bag inside, slipping in quickly I slam the door and lock it, tight, shut, fast. The driver leans back to question our direction but wordlessly I wave him on, as I glance back through the rear windscreen and see him standing there…

Long blonde hair caught in the breeze from the open garage doors, he does not move… Does not chase, he simply stands and watches… Staring right through the glass and deep into my soul.

With a sermon for the listener
Seduce & Destroy...
But why does she look so much like me?

// Jun 27, 2014 at 8:18am
@blackdragon So...apparently @anavalantine has blocked me on twitter... \\

No Shit.

Your head upon a stick Would look really sick
But they would call me crazy For the way I spoke to it I'd ask about its day
Did it miss me while I was away?

I know what you are “Z-Mac”. I understand withy perfect clarity precisely who and… what you are. Not, what you are perceived to be, not the mortal shell of a sinister degradation mocked and disbelieved by the groaning masses because acceptance of true evil… Of the darkness that swells behind your eyes, would indeed mean the acceptance of all that is sick and grey in this world.

I see you, for all that IT is… I see the chocking smog of hate and sickness that swells within your form like life’s breath… The emptiness, the meaninglessness of your very existence in the eyes of the foolish who think themselves brave… I will not make that mistake. I will not fall into that trap.

I will not deny you your villainy, your taste for the macabre, your thirst for destruction because… Unlike the heathens and the zealots, unlike the putrid, unwashed masses that fill arenas… I know of evil, I know of hell and death… I have tasted it and I recognize you for that, for what you are.

Do I fear you? No – Do I think you a greater or more threatening force than that which resides within me? Ha! No….

You purport to be a part of this… Mortal soil, but we both know better… I do not fear you, because the darkness that swells within you is merely the by-product of a greater, more malicious force… the devil himself calls my bones his home and he will take the step towards you. I am no fool, there will be carnage, there will be pain… I see no ending to this that is not the result of darkness combined torturing our very bodies to the brink of breaking….

You will crack first.

I have lived pain, the darkness and the death, it breeds pain within me and every step is as torturous as he demands it… What do you think you can do to me… That has not already been done?

I have questions, of course… What will be your tack? Will you crack the effort of originality and attack the person, not the gender? Will you have the insight to prevail in a quest for a ‘real’ insult and seek the darkness in me as I do in you?

Or will you be another failure, another stupid man with a pointless cause to call me a whore? To claim size, or breeding… To you, like to so many others, will it be my gender and all that… goes along with that, which you shall focus upon?

A whore… ugly… Perhaps tell me to suck your dick? – I expect more from you, of course, but I am doubtful I will get it… I can hope only that what seethes within you, recognizes and does not simply tremble, at what is within me… But understands, that the idiocy of man, will not be enough to quell the fires within.

It wouldn't have much to say The rest would be kept in a Tight little dress
Propped up in the corner A perfect little pet

-Grab a plate and throw it on the floor. Did it break?
Yes?
Ok, now tell it you're sorry.
Good, now, did it un-break?
No?
Now you understand. –

Do you?
Do you understand what I have been forced to become… Say it, say you don’t love me, I don’t belong, and it’s all over before it even begun. No one wants you here, silly girl... turn back go into the dark and surrender, the teeth that gnash and grab at you will quickly strip the flesh from your bones and you will be alone no more…

And when it is I, myself alone, on my loneliest nights, no footfalls to pass, no hands to touch, it is him I think of, the devil in my soul and then… I can breathe, I feel better. He resides here with me, but I welcomed him in. He soothes, he quietens and without question, he will always sing me a lullaby.

I am ruined, beyond the break – there is nothing left to cling to anymore and so we pass, back and forth, searching for warmth, belonging and I carry them with me, for they are fearful too – the angel and the serpent, they long to be loved… They long to be a part of one not quite as cold as me…

Too cold even, for the demons who turned my very soul to ash, in the darkest nights, they fear me… for the grin on my face is not my own and it will all end in tears, beautiful red drops of bleeding fear and passion as you become nothing.

Like me.

And you will know, you will see, we all have broken little wings… Invading things… with ever problem, with every pain it is a new mark, a new scar, that appears. Most and many, have scars of different sizes and severity, some on the skin and some on the soul.

He will lie to you, the devil, he will promise to mend those broken wings, he will claim as he does, that is matters not what kind of broken you are, where you scars lie, he will whispers out into the darkness..

My dear, it does not matter what you are, for in time all scars will heal and you will soar again, above the heads of those beneath you onto higher, farther, most beautiful things….

Locked in a box So I can keep stock A trophy to show me That all is not lost
The writing on the wall A psalm in napalm Abandon all hope But try to stay calm

“You understand what this means, don’t you Ana?” My father’s voice booms from across the table.

Slowly, I raise my eyes to stare at him , he has aged and not gracefully, hair plugs covering liver spotted parts of his scalp with grey wisps of someone else’s hair. My fingers trace the outline of the crisp, white contract. The paper is soft and supple, the ink still fresh upon the top sits almost above the surface and my eyes cannot help but watch the edges bleed into the fibers… Mesmerizing.

“ANA!” he shouts, annoyed. I smirk.

I look up again, catching his eye. He looks red, not from the sun, from the agitation of admitting his defeat… The grandiose office we sit in was once my own, all furniture removed and changed long since I vacated it. My eyes dance with glee across the Vegas skyline visible from the huge windowed wall. Stood in front of it, his back purposefully turned, it Christian.

“Yes.” I say it simply, quietly, but it won’t be enough… I know that.

Christian turns slightly to glance over his shoulder and I shoot my eyes down, I can still feel his touch somewhere in the recesses of my brain, the demon longs for it… Yes he says, take him, it was so animal, so cruel… So dark and painful… hurt me again….

No, I push it down, can’t think it… Not again… I can’t… Please….

And then it happens, my eyes close for a second and there is his face, his lips, his eyes… the feel of our bodies pressed together, the way his palm curbed to my cheek and I would turn to him… My breath catches in a sigh as I can all but feel his very breath on the bare part of my neck… My soul still lingers there in that bed… But my mind moves on.

“Well?” it is Christian’s voice that punctures my thoughts.

“Well?” I return the singular word question with a cock of the head.

Yesssss hisses the serpent, bait him in, bring him to use… Mmmm… I can taste the tips of his soul on my tongue… So much more to give, so much darkness for us to consume… So much hate… So much need… to control…. Yesssss…..

*SLAM!*

The flat of Christian’s hand hits the table and I jump, my mind wrenching back to the room where they sit and wait... It is getting louder now, like a constant pounding on my ears… I can always hear them, always fear them…. It is just they and I now.

“I Understand. I sign this, I am an asset of Athos Corp. all creative and business decisions will be out of my hands, Christian will be re-instated as not only my manager but my sole trainer and I will be permitted to visit and lodge within only designated Athos Corp locations.” My voice is dry, robotic… I don’t care… All the care I had has dripped from me like tears.

“And…” Christian prompts me.

And it was a lie, there is some care left, I know this because it grips like the hand of death around my heart as my lips struggle to form the words… It’s what best, they say… He seeks to kill us… Destroy us… you need us Ana…. Say it…

“And I will never, ever, see or speak to Alex Jones again.” My eyes drop to the very clause in the contract.

Christian’s hand touches my shoulder, before his hand moves and his thumb catches a single tear, he inspects it for a moment, before turning to look down at me, a small, tight smile on his lips as he sighs.

“Come now Ana…” he places the pen in my hand “Just one, little, signature”

Sign… Sign… they sing and cheer in my ears, the room melts away and there is just the voices, the screaming, the wall turn and run to blood and Christian’s laughing face bores into my eyes, tearing them from my skull as the voices sing and dance inside my brain… Sign… Sign…. SIGN!

WAIT! Screams the Angel….

“Wait!” screams my voice…. MY voice….. “I need some air…”

I don’t know how I got here, or when… But my feet find the paving beneath the street outside the Casino and my body stumbles, as I turn and regard the busy strip just over the way. People mill about, their needs, their carnal desires burning fast through their very beings, here in sin city…

Sin City. How quaint. The irony is not lost on the Devil I assure you.

My hands brush my arms and it is hands I wish were in their place, my mind reels back and is once again over taken by the scenes from a few days ago… though it is not the happiness of our moments together… My stomach lurches, my heart shatters as I recall the very, most exact second I realized he was gone…

Hot tears roll down my cheeks now as they did then and I cannot breathe, I gasp, throwing my head back I gulp in air that does nothing to relieve the burning in my chest… the devils fire consumes me from within, or so it feels, as my very veins stretch to burst and pain ravages through me at the very memory of his betrayal.

I'm the boss...
She's got a broken arm; I've got a broken heart.
Boy, she's so coy...

A kiss should taste like rain in summer; it should lighten your heart and illuminate your soul… It should be the very thing that makes every fall, every failure, melt away. A hand, that holds your own should be warm and soft, it should carry you when you cannot carry yourself, it should lighten your load.

There is nothing precious to me… I am of my own design – and theirs mind – A whore... A manipulator… And there are those who call it to me as though it were an insult… Damaging. But I make no qualms for what I am… a woman; in a man’s world… they will remind you constantly.

So I will seek out the weak and the unworthy, I will ingest and destroy those who are weak of body and mind… those who took what I offered with a shit eating grin… Knew exactly what tampered, broken thing they lie down with.

Men like Scott Savage take what they want and then destroy what remains…. They think themselves strong and able, but I saw him… I saw the weakness and so I was annihilated… He tried, as did so many others to destroy what I am, to end my career.

And I will admit, it is… It WAS fear that he filled me with, it was dread and the sickness of doubt that plagued me at his words… His touch… I cannot forget the feel of his hand clasped around my throat to choke the very life from me… I will never once close my eyes and not feel the oxygen forced from my lungs… The choking, the blackness of so-very-near death…

BUT it is the actions of men like him, the betrayals and the need to own, the need to control, that fed me to the very things that inhabit me now…. I am little more than what you made me Scott… And as the time ticks away, fear will creep across you…

Your skin will tighten and rise with the Goosebumps of knowing what is to come… you placed your hands upon me and your wretched way was to take me out… Now, I will place their wretched hands upon you and you will suffer…

You will beg, you will plead and you will be shown no mercy.

For you buried her, the girl, the whore…. You buried Ana Valentine and what has risen in her place… Is something wicked… this way comes.

She made a little fire With a fork & electrical wire
Damn, she's so coy...
Blowtorch nightlight Switchblade knife fights
FUCK! She's so coy...

Do you wanna play a game ‘Zmac’?

A little… hide and seek for the soul… If you can find mine…. You’re welcome to it.

But should you fail, what replaced mine, is free to feed… On whatever it is that remains of you.

Call it bravery, or stupidity, or perhaps just a blind determination to reach the ultimate destination… But I do not fear what is to come. I do not fear the hands of a not-quite-man on me, around my neck, twisting or trying to break me… Fear breeds uncertainty… I have none.

I am certain, that you and I will climax in screaming agony… I am certain that this.. Booking, is purely an attempt at a sideshow… A game. That somehow, in the minds of the fucking morons singing the checks and switching on their televisions… This will be a real good ‘show’.

Except;

You, like I, are not for ‘show’ it is not a bit, a gimmick… Not an act to switch on and off with the camera… So many preach darkness and pain… I live it and the serpents tells me so do you. He coils deep within my chest and his blood, cold as ice, is all that prevents me from burning up in my own personal hell fire.

He is waiting for you, he longs to taste the edges of your own darkness and unlike those who came before you, it is not stupidity that prevents you from fearing it… But acceptance.

Yes… I know you, I see you… I understand it, all of it and yet; I don’t care. I do not tremble, I do not stutter…. I will not back down or move away, you cannot frighten me, you cannot threaten me… All that you have has already been done and you are simply retreading the steps of a man who came before.

The real monsters do not live under our bed… they do not creep through the shadows to steal scream from sleeping babes… The real monsters step into the ring this week and as they pull their strings and we dance for them,. Like grotesque ballerinas in a recital of blood and agony – I will see, from behind the eyes of my own being, as it is you who falls…

And I who stands tall, to regain possession of myself, among it all.

Like worms on a hook That were plucked from the
Heart of the bodies of gods For the wretched & lost..
That were plucked from the Heart of the bodies of gods
That were rotting to DUST!!

“He doesn’t love you Ana….” Christian’s voice trails to my ears.

From my seat on the ground I look up at him, tears fill my eyes at the acknowledgement of the words. I want to fight back, I want to call him a liar… But Alex has never said it, he has never told me he loves me… Because he doesn’t. And who can blame him?


“I know that.” The words come out like a whisper.

“I have always loved you.” His words are earnest.

My eyes look at the face of the man I used to know. For a moment, I can see the boy, the young guy who introduced me and Amy to this world all those years ago… I can remember, very distinctly, being just seventeen and amazed by all of it… Now I am lost. Jaded.

“I know that too.” I do not try to argue the truth.

Christian’s form of love is control, all powerful. I am surprised to see he didn’t bring the contract out with him. He does not understand my hesitation… He cannot comprehend the battle from inside. They trained me to be this, closed and cold. Love is not something a Valentine can be afforded.

“We can help you Ana… Your father, he… He loves you, the only way he knows how.” Christian takes a seat beside me as he says this.

I nod slowly, but feel the creeping fear of my space being invaded. The serpent inside uncurls and wants to stretch, it wants to lean over and place my head upon his shoulder. No. I tell it, not now, not him. You had your fill.

But they did not… they can taste the bitterness in him, the anger, the hate and the strength of his desire for me. I am a prize to him, something to be owned and shown off…. I have never been more than a pawn in a power play of life…

“He doesn’t know what love is.” A tear betrays me as I speak.

“Do you?” a simple question, asked by a complicated man.

“No…” I don’t… I know lust and desire… I know the animalistic growl of ownership… The carnal relief of sex… But not love. “What do you want from me Christian?”

“What I have always wanted.” His hand touches my face and I recoil.

The devil within me opens his eyes and begins to dance, he speeds my heart and fires my blood… Take it, he says, take this ticket, sign away your name… you have no soul left to give, that lives with me now… they will get the shell and I… Will get all they are.

“I can’t give you warmth… I can’t give you love… I am nothing… Not at all like her.” The very thought of Amy sends him cold and quiet.

“You are more like her than you think.” He spits the words as he stands, leaning over me. “Stay there in your own pity… Become the very thing she was. Your mother would be ashamed to see what she left behind!”

I am on my feet and my hand connects with his cheek faster than the Angel can prevent it. We both stand, panting and angry, blood boiling, but we do not touch, and we do not reprieve, both far too at home with the longing, the pain.

“Don’t you EVER speak of my mother.” The tears that fall now are angry and hot.

“Anamaria…” his voice is slick and condescending… “Your mother was no Angel… No Saint… After all… Whore, breeds Whore.”

I move to slap him again but he grabs my hand, twisting my arm so my back turns to him, he presses up behind me and I feel the press of his enjoyment as he uses my own arm to choke across my throat.

“Take a day, cool off….” He releases me and lunges me forward away from him as his hands dust off his suit. “You have until 5pm tomorrow to sign or the deal is off…. Choice is yours.”

Bleach to clean the curses I exist, I'm not the first
Tell my mother I love her I didn't suffer
No regrets, no apologies A self-fulfilling prophecy

All I could smell was her hair........

...Burning......

I want to be free of this world… The thoughts have crossed my mind many a time, never full, never fulfilling, just a simplistic desire to be free of what I am. To shed this mortal skin and escape into the bleak and empty beyond… They call from me, from the dark and the shadows of my mind, they long for me to join them there, they tell me I could just let it all go and be free, at last.

Be one of them and allow the devil to fill my skin, to dance my limbs like a puppet on a coiled spring. And part of me thinks it would be bravest to surrender to their calls. Let him have me, plunge me into the pits of the fire that lapped for so long.

But I cannot, I am not done – not complete. The mission still stands, the taste of vengeance rests on the tip of my tongue and I will NOT surrender, I will NOT forget… Forgiveness is something for the sweet and the pure…. My devil knows him well, for they are one and the same…

This is no longer about a single man, this is about a lesson and one that all must learn, this week begins with a man who thinks himself the monster and it will end, with the monster who thinks herself a man.

Nobody move, nobody gets hurt
But where's the fun in that
I gotta satisfy the thirst

Death is such a flirt

You get what you deserve.