12/12/24
In the beginning I could breathe. I was happy. I was spontaneous. I was fun-loving. I had an implacable sex drive and thirst for romance that I gratified almost immediately for most of my 38 year old life. I was a self-serving saxophonist with a dream to play the sax differently.
And now? I’m suffocating, my throat is closing, my lung feels like it is collapsing. I came to this place in little half-alive Hornell in upstate New York. “Home of Bill Pullman”. It’s quiet all day and my radiator is pumping warmth on full blast. I should be vibrating with peace, self-love, and healing. I did that for about two days. On the third day I made the mistake of texting my people and the damned phone opened Pandora’s Box. My previously blissful bed was then infested by every demon, vampire, witch, satanic worshipper, and greedy weed artists (I am a recovering one) in Washington DC, Maryland, and Virginia. I hear them talking, words popping out of a bubbling and intrusive stream accompanied by bad dreams about people I wanted distance from.
I get that it’s not personal. A damaged human is just like a lame Safari animal, who the strong, industrious, and crafty have the right to devour, am I correct? It’s called the food chain, asshole. If the best among us did not have qualities that breed an environment for aggressive neurotic capitalism, how would the egos that need billions and billions of dollars go on living?
…
The theft of health happens in the insidious privacy/non-privacy of the mind and preys on those who don’t have antlers, or perhaps just those that do. Meanwhile, the strong egos among us, with their servile demons feeding them the “necessary” energy, go on looking like good, wholesome people. These are talented “survivors” with thick, impervious skin. Everybody should be like them. Everybody should worship them. They belong at the center of attention, otherwise the world would come to a screeching halt. They can save the world. Trickledown, bitch.
Is that how the song goes?
…
When I arrived in Hornell I had high hopes. I went to bed early after a long, stressful drive, contending with those First-Era-Trump license plates that are absolute hell on a paranoid and hyper vigilant mind. The sleep was blissful. The air (as in the energy of the sleeping air) was clean and quiet— not noisy and anxious like DC. Nobody else was here in bed with me. A room to myself. I can breathe! My chronic pains and neuroticism had vanished, I was sleepy and I was spiritually home.
I had totaled my car a couple months ago, two weeks after I paid it off, and was AirBnB-ing to figure out where I wanted to settle without a car. But first, I had to be somewhere out of the way to recover, at least a little, from the mental, physical, and spiritual trauma of the past decade. I had to get away from my ex-boyfriend because, despite his best conscious intentions, being with him was like being with a cosmic mailman who mostly delivered evil shit.
So, why not here?
…
I am in the rodeo.
The voyeur cats find me in the ether.
They jump on.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
I can’t read.
I can’t practice because
I lost hearing in one ear.
I can’t meditate.
I can’t turn on my phone.
It wasn’t like this.
It came out of nowhere.
I panic.
I feel the impression of their teeth hovering over mine.
I feel their tongue in my mouth.
I feel their tonsils swell where mine have been removed.
I feel a throat that snores
Take my own
The one I had trained
To be open and to sing.
I feel their Dracula hearts
Bite from where my pulse lives.
The portal that was installed in my side
Scratched open by one who I trusted
Allows the bite a direct line to my heart.
My pulse that was calm
Co-opted exploited publicized
Is now sky high.
My tranquility is gone.
I feel like I’m going to have a stroke.
I can’t breathe.
I’m wired but my mind is exhausted
From weaving these twisted narratives
That serve someone else
And tear me down
Feeding on my trauma story
Putting myself six feet under the masses.
I don’t smoke anymore.
I seldom drink.
I am vegan most of the time when I never had to be.
I was a runner but my knee is public property now too.
You can’t do this to me.
Please get off.
Please let me go.
Please be aware of what you are doing!
Please God help me.
Our Father…
Who art in Heaven
Hallowed be Thy Name…
Honestly, I am not even a Christian and when I pray I am a true novice. I don’t really know what faith is. But there is some vague hope that whoever or whatever is doing this will be deterred by being prayed against. I become angry, bitter, hopeless. All the love is drained from my heart and nobody can know or understand what this is about. It’s just me with no proof. It’s a demon that creates the pain and symptoms that vanish during the medical tests. It’s what they want to make cancer out of so that they can possess my body permanently and remove my peace forever. A colonized body. My faith gets tested and I fail. I don’t know what faith is. I don’t know what God is.
12/13/24
I felt the countenances of two spirits confront me when I started writing yesterday. These are countenances I know from real life. One has a sore front tooth and the other has a twitch on his lip. The two spirits were in front of my eyes, trying to blur them and make it impossible to type.
I swore that I would stop typing if they left me alone. I left for a run in the frigid air, hoping to burn them off of me. When I returned to my apartment, the air did seem cleaner and less agitated.
I kept my promise, I didn’t write. But as I was sitting at the foot of my bed reading, around 10pm, I felt my throat starting to close and my breath become labored. I felt a pressure on my chest threatening to send my pulse into rabbit mode. I lit matches in front of my face and said inside my head, “wake up, your house is on fire”. I meant it as a way of jolting whatever was settling on me off of my wavelength, or whatever. It seemed to work because I sneezed three times and the feeling was gone.
The snorers kept coming, though— I have a theory that they are snorers because during my time of sharing housing with people who snored, and then stopped snoring, I believe my empathic body was used as a breathing aid.
After the third match I lit, something bit my tongue. The Twitch Lip came and I felt something stir around my crotch. I got up to inspect my tongue and saw a mole had suddenly appeared there. For those of you who will say, “It was already there, you just noticed it, you maniac,” I am telling you: I keep meticulous attention on my tongue.
It seems in the mind of the Satanic (or whatever), I do not have a right to fight to maintain my air quality or my pulse, or even my tongue. They found (put?) my energy in their bed and feel entitled to take my body’s energy. I am repulsed and heartbroken and anxious. I was always a shy person, but I never thought I would look at humans as an organization to be threatened by.
My dreams last night were full of people. It was a peaceful sleep compared to the nights before. I feared it though because of what I saw. I saw the demon “Smokey” who is also my ex. I despise him in waking life for being a chain smoking, stimulant addicted, psycho piece of shit, but he was gentle and kind in my dream and so I accepted him there. He is half Black and half Italian and was the first person to change the condition of my body intentionally— he gave me pebble poops, sped up my heart, and twisted my spine. His birthday is 4/21, mine is 12/4, for those into that sort of analysis. I do believe he would approve of me sharing this story because he believes in freedom of expression and that’s why we got along. Anyway, in the dream, there were these Black girls who were my sisters and I think I was Emma Stone and there was an entire compressed saga about how I went away and biked for three years and had just come home to them.
About my orientation to Black people— I wish I knew more. Is there some sort of ESP? Is there a quantum entanglement because Jay-Z’s birthday is also 12/4? Why are the vibes so strong? Why do I feel so physically affected by your presence? Why does it feel like you are giving me orders? Why does it feel like we are all drinking the same KoolAid? Am I implicitly sharing your creative energy because I grew up listening to black music? Sharing of this energetic body is an inevitable human condition— but sometimes I feel attacked. Especially with the widespread usage of weed and my trauma around reduced lung capacity after being exposed to external energy...
…
When I see (what seems to be) a reaction to my energy, I feel guilty.
I allow myself to take on the condition of the sick body.
Here is why:
I did this Candida cleanse in the winter of 2014 that really messed up my gut. I thought I was going around exuding gas and contaminating everyone and every place. I had this crazy fluffy white discharge all of the time that didn’t smell or itch and couldn’t be diagnosed. My stomach hurt all of the time.
In 2020 it disappeared.
I have an illusion that my original body, before being corroded by Satan’s manipulations (Satan because this seems like his territory…as is Faustus), was growing some kind of homemade moss. When the moss disappeared suddenly, I imagined that since matter cannot just disappear, it can only change location, it is being used somehow. I have seen in my body that it has been exchanged for a variety of ailments, including weak kidney juices, bad liver waters, broken spines, broken ear, broken teeth, broken throat, and god knows what else. Because of the moss, I am His captive.
So, if Satan (or whatever) is an entity that is omniscient and listening, can I ask him things?
Hello, Lucifer (or whoever)
I would like you to return my body to its original condition.
I am God’s lamb and would like a chance to address
The original problem
Without the add-ons of
The intervening ailments that were superimposed instead.
Thanks for your consideration.
Sincerely, Sarah
…
I wonder if all of this is actually a big misunderstanding. Like, what if the disembodied spirit “Twitch Lip” is actually the person I saw the twitching lip on, and he is somehow accidentally haunting me? And there is no malicious intent or no intention at all? I never thought the person I knew as Twitch Lip was a bad person— but selfish and close-minded, unwilling to listen to a woman’s point of view. Maybe by impression of that person is causing the “spirit” Twitch Lip to manifest in my own mind as a self-induced haunting because I was traumatized by that relationship…
My other theory is that if “Satan” is a body of energy that is the manifestation of the greed, selfishness, and the cowardice of people’s innermost souls (including mine), and is the embodiment of a desire to control and distort, it is an internal force that connects most humans, aside from the angelic and the saved.
What if “Satan” is manipulating my reality, causing me to psychosomatically create illness in myself as a manifestation of unresolved trauma in myself and regarding what I have seen and experienced between myself and other people (the impact of their energy on mine)?
Why must I be so welcoming of this experience and how can I become less so?
More about Twitch Lip— we lived in the same house briefly. During that time I would wake in the middle of the night, always within minutes of his returning home, with an intense disturbance of the crown of my head. The hyper motion generated a ceaseless flow of anxious thoughts, neck pain and stiffness, and raised pulse. I had had a reaction as soon as he moved in— I got COVID and then lived day after day with some sort of flu. I suddenly grew a mole on the inside of my lip that went away and then grew painful red bumps at the base of my tongue that were diagnosed as a rare condition potentially caused by duct blockages. There were sudden changes in the toilet, suddenly I was having piss that was dark or shitting entirely different shit. Meanwhile, there was this constant air of blame, whispering that this is my real body and is what I deserved from my short periods of cigarette addiction. Needless to say, this helped me quit entirely. He smoked weed multiple times a day though, not to mention drank liquor on a much more regular basis than myself. It was a toss up — either I was reflecting him and his body of energy or he was deflecting the energy of me (which is also complex and made of different people) back onto my body. Or maybe it was a demon.
Having said all of this, I left the situation with the intention of passing no judgment and trying to forget the whole thing. This is where the haunting “Twitch Lip” comes in. And this is where Satan enters too, because I cannot blame the actual person of my roommate— it’s an unreasonable accusation that encroaches upon my good conscience and corrupts honesty and would be a defamation of his character.
I know that an evil spirit is the only entity to be held accountable for this kind of haunting. Maybe it is a product of my traumatizing experience around the roommate paired with irrational fears and extreme stress.
I am being chased—
A scapegoat for murders that
People continue to perpetrate
Upon their own bodies with their smoke.
Yes, that black mole that appeared is scary.
I am tired of this dialogue:
“I quit smoking, did you?”
“Just be Jesus, Sarah.”
“No! This is witchcraft!”
Hey you— Is Jesus just your scapegoat?
The mole was gone the next morning.
- - -
12/21/24
In The Fall of 2014, I think I might have summoned the succubus Lilith on the island of Nantucket. I was smoking some weed and my idea of having fun in those days was to mess with my perception and see if I could make cool stuff happen in my body or around my body. I might have been obsessed with manipulating energy and crafting ego. I suppose I was what a good Christian would call an evil woman. I didn’t know what I was doing and, at best, I’d call myself naive and silly, as well as obsessed with sex and the sensual and tantric. I was young and had never considered a definition for what I was.
In any case, I smoked weed with an acquaintance that night and later, alone in my room, I felt I could summon the presence of a spirit, a mysterious Romeo, to have fun with in this strangely luxurious bedroom. I don’t know why, I suppose I was feeling horny, witchy, and curious all at the same time. Perhaps it was the presence on the island of all of the really old graves and my recent obsession with being near Salem, Massachusetts and wondering about the nature of magic and what powers I might possess. I could blame this on Harry Potter, but I won’t.
As I lay in bed, psychically open and searching for Romeo, I saw the image of something flying rapidly over the landscape of the island, close to the ground, almost as if galloping, and the next thing I knew I felt a shimmery, static-y sort of feeling hovering over my erogenous zones. This was something I had never felt before and I fancied that either I had been successful in bringing in a spirit or I had successfully turned myself on in a new and exciting way. I don’t like to get too graphic but I had some fun with this “Romeo” and then was ready to go to sleep because I had an early day. Romeo did not seem to agree with my timeline, for the feeling of electricity continued to stay at my root. Finally, I surrendered and slept.
The next morning I felt disoriented. The light in the room looked different and I felt like a different person. I looked at myself in the mirror and one of my eyes seemed darker. It gave me goosebumps. I thought I was just creeping myself out and the best thing I could do is to forget what happened, lest I give myself a psychologically induced demonic possession and ruin my life forever.
The period of life that followed was very difficult. My skin started breaking out in violent cystic acne and then I did that Candida cleanse that I mentioned above. I perceived that people started sneezing and getting sick around me. I got a copper IUD implant that gave me hives and I started having IBS after it was taken out. I broke up with the person I was with because I thought he was evil. I became hyper-vigilant and started noticing the repetition of numbers in my daily life.
One thing did not change: I had always slept well and continued to sleep well.
I didn’t know.
I’m sorry I might have summoned a succubus
That poisoned people.
I won’t call you evil
But maybe many of us are misguided
And living a twilight life
That we might wish
Was full of wholesome light again.
I’m sorry to have misled anyone.
I need to forgive myself
And release myself from the burden
I carry on behalf of loved ones
Still might still be calling Lilith.
I know I am choosing the light
And God does not only test me
He tests everyone.
People must choose for themselves.