Justina Revolution

It’s 10:38 PM in Montevideo, Uruguay. I am here on this platform writing words that I don’t know if anyone will find or read. I am in my little apartment through the door there are twinkling Christmas lights. But this feels more honest than Medium or Substack. This feels like my place.

I control the vertical and the horizontal here. This is my most honest blog. Where I divulge all the tasty secrets that the paying public won’t tolerate. Shorter punchier posts about vampires, bimbos, and dark sorcery.

Here is where I create things that don’t digest well in the light of day. The thoughts that get flushed away like a wriggling centipede caught in toilet paper.

“Baby, you need to leave, 'Cause I'm getting drunk on your noble deeds. It doesn't matter that they don't get done, When I feel this cold, they're like the fucking sun.

Baby, I need a friend, But I'm a vampire smile, you'll meet a sticky end. I'm here trying not to bite your neck, But it's beautiful, and I'm gonna get...” – Kyla LaGrange, Vampire Smile

I cut myself and bleed for your pennies.

I have no shame. 

I'll share my trauma.

I'll give you my pain, my pleasure, my dignity.

Poems are a worthless waste of time.

No one pays for them. 

I wanted to tell stories.

Cut. Clink. Bleed

To create wonder and make people happy. 

Cut. Clink. Cut. Clink.

But happiness is in a grave somewhere near El Paso.

And wonder? 

They took the first flight out. 

Cut. Clink. Bleed.

And now you're here with me. 

The mediocre poet.

I pretty myself up. 

Stand on the digital street corner. 

Hoping you will throw pennies.

I cut myself with my shiny razor. 

It's a terrible, beautiful thing.

The only beauty left in this tired old world. 

We are all dying flowers in a neglected garden. 

Cut. Clink. Cut. Clink.

Beauty fades slowly. 

But it fades. 

50 long years of struggle. 

Culminates in this rite of the damned.

Cut. Clink. Bleed.

Will my suffering earn a crust of bread and a small room? 

Will I sleep rough? 

Will I be safe? 

Cut. Clink. Bleed.

Daylight comes. 

I stare at the aged reflection in a store window.

God what was I before this? 

Cut. Clink. Bleed.

I was listening to a Bashar talk about surrendering to the infinite possibilities than I am. Him talking about surrendering to life and my true nature.

And I hate this. This me. The one I want to be... that is the one I want. I don't want to surrender to myself. I don't want the infinite possibilities. I want the ones I choose. I don't want to see everything as good. As a lesson. As an experience.

And most of all I don't want to die. I hate myself for making me as I am. Making me as a puny mortal creature bound by the laws of this universe. I don't want this. I never wanted this. I never wanted the challenges. And if I did somehow agree to all this then I want to punch myself in my big stupid face.

**I hate all the disappointment and the abuse. All the pain and the loss and the horror. I never wanted this. And I have fought so hard to be who and what I am. I am so damned tired of living. But I don’t want to die. I want to win.

I want to batter my higher self into submission. I want to defeat it and master it completely. I want to tame the universe and bend it to my will. I want everything without action or effort. I am tired and I will never surrender to my higher mind. I will drag it into hell with me if it will not comply.**

So I have been thinking that everything I write or produce will become public domain when I pass away. Release all my notes, teachings, writings, images, and details of my entire life under CC0.

This means you could use my stuff for anything you want. Exploit it. Pass it off as your own.