Killjoy The Monster I Am

The road is short, and the path is narrow. My eyes gouged so I may never be blinded. My tongue ripped from my mouth, so I may speak of endless paradise. My ears flayed, so I may listen for my calling. My hands removed, so I may touch the sky. My existence is hell, I am found.
          
          I root for the river instead of the town. It boils with dark poison floods. It taunts me to drown, but I say naught. The melody of my wails is the only visage the heavens wish to see of me.
          
          There is nothing that could possibly see my immense suffering and think it unfair. My tragedy is sin incarnate, and this is my punishment. What pleasures have I been subject of, to have been beholden to this punishment? Nothing. Only the weight of my sin has borne this tragedy upon me. The suffering that is the sentence of one brought by the flesh and blood I am made.
          
          To be speared unto atop flames that send my corpse ashes scattering like a poison to the world, because that is what I am.
          
          I am a parasite. I am filth, vermin.
          
          I truly don't want to be here anymore. I am suffering in plain view. It doesn't matter. Not to my mothers, not to my fathers, not to you, not to anyone. Because if I tell you how it feels, it would be a lie and a waste of time and air. It really is just as well, I have no worth. Rubble becomes nothing and will be nothing, but the remains of the person that was me. To be relieved of life.
          
          I confess, I'm scared.
          
          I'm frightened, terribly so, but I want it all the same. Maybe I will finally rest. Maybe I won't cry anymore. Maybe I won't be so lifeless. I don't really know, and I don't think you do either.

The fear in their eyes as they try to scream to the others only a bed away, but only an inaudible whisper escapes. The tears as they die just inches away from their brothers and sisters sleeping peacefully in the night, my hands too strong for them to break free of for their fragile bodies.
          
          Such bliss, I feel, from a bittersweet moment. Such tragedy to be witnessed, so beautiful. The strife and hopelessness that child must feel. Their cute faces well up in pain and sadness. The tears stream down their face and inability to breathe or make a sound settle in. Their tiny throat trying to gasp for air, but kept closed by my hand. Such a wonderful feeling, so sad! We are sad! We are sad! So very sad! So happy! So beautiful to behold, my sweet child, to have the life drain from them! Oh, so cruel! So unkind! So beautiful! So wonderful! I want to protect them in that moment! I want to save them from the unmindful! So unkind! I want to save them from their pain! I must save them! So unkind! Unkind! I need to save them! They need me! They need me more than I need them!

"And I say to you, I hope for a happy life to you... Baroness Olivia Alv.. Baroness... Olivia Temparta."
          
          With a heavy heart and a creeping sense, a dear friend was bid a joyous life. A final attempt at persuading was rejected, so there were no more words to say. The old world was torn down and replaced, a shift of Alvinara to Temparta halmarking the dramatic teardown.
          
          His heart heavy, as those words left his lips, the realization set in, this would be the last time he would ever see the woman whom he would seem his best friend by the name of Olivia Alvinara... Correction, Olivia Temparta. A creeping sense, he felt his bones chill, his blood felt as if it drained from his body. It wouldn't be strange if his throat welled up with black muck and his skull split open akin to sand. Powerless and frightened of what was to come.
          
          "I bid safe travels, to you... Aegon, Shield of the Northern Bridge. I'm sorry..."
          
          All of Aegons broken mind came together for one moment, to process this new information. Thirteen years it had been since he had seen her, and their first since would be the final. With so much hardship wasted, they would be in different worlds never to be united again. To be a tragic fate one, and then a tragic fate for two.

Quite a long while, but one metal ring in my left, and an entirely new eye in my right, I'm drawn back to this site once again. To indulge in my selfish want to randomly mention laying in underwear currently being held together by the died and hardened blood evoked by the wound drawn about my flank. 
          
          My vision grows and my sturdy and resilient body may not be needed to make for a lack of eyes anymore. Though, it comes in handy with all its previous uses. I realise, I am much more akin to a rugged brawler than I seem to he an author. Enjoyment comes too easily from a scuffle and even more when it is a slugfest. Even so, I would be remiss to not think of my cognition of events.
          
          Procrastination is an ever present looming sin over my head. So much time, yet it goes by fast and I find I have wasted it on trivial things. It's so strange here, but feels as if there is a broken record of wrong decisions and indifference to any situation that looms. I feel strange, and yet... So tired...

I'm having 3 surgeries for my eyes soon.
          
          Straight to the point for all of you that care about any stories I write.
          
          One surgery is cross-linking, the other two are transplants.

With the clinking of metal against metal, there was a glint of elegantly polished silvery gray. A hand attempted to hold a glass, yet the surface of both the end of the limb and the glass were much too smooth to cause friction amongst themselves. Thus, the hand could not grip the glass. The solution the owner had came in the form of creating a shape inside of his hands that did not require friction for a smooth glass to stay in place.
          
          The man before him had lost his arms in a battle previously, in place of his past limbs were now a construct of meager yet careful craft. A shiny gray with many sectioned areas formed his hands. Smoothly polished bits and pieces left almost no gaps in itself, yet constructed as slightly bulkier than a regular set of limbs that would have normally protruded from his shoulders.
          
          More and more clicks came as the metal moved and suddenly froze. "Lost 'em in an ambush by soldiers of an opposite side... As the battle went on and I attended to lifting my wounded companion away, just as many wounds built upon each other to my own body... A slosh and a burning pain came to me, my arm punched me away... Then just as swiftly, my sleeve shrunk and flattened, my other had dropped with a wet slapp on the stone beneath me, an explosion rung through me ear and my sight was gone, I couldn't even know what had taken my arm... I screamed and pushed using my back and used my legs to move, yet I didn't save a damnned soul..."

Every day, I hear him. Every day, I can hear his screaming. Every squeak that falls into another. His every insult! Every fucking day! I hear him! I hear him! Jerry! JERRY!!! Jerry's a cunt! Every time, the last word! Every day, I have to look at the half of his head that's left! Every day, I have to look at him! EVERY FUCKING DAY!!! Jerry! You bastard! I see your blades spin! I see them over and over! The glass in my eye socket erodes day by day! I'll kill you Jerry! I'll fucking kill you! 
          
          But please... Jerry... Go fuck yourself...

Hey I exist  

To everyone still here or newly arrived. I have kept many things that I've said, written, and done, even the seemingly forgotten. Though I do not claim to remember everything. They are all in my mind and I don't not intend to go against the actions that have been sent, set, or called for. I will do what I should, and that starts today. Mark my words, from this time, 15:39 Pacific Standard Time, within the next 24 hours, I will have updated my works. I cannot promise that I will have touched the fantasy story named the placeholder, "Philosopher Summoned By The Demon Queen" as this is what I would consider my most unique and would be a massive undertaking that spits in the face of its pride of being my first story that is entirely mine and longer than a one shot as a cohesive story. As such, I will not be able to complete its next chapter in 24 hours along with any others unless I am suddenly overcome with inspiration. 
          
          In this past 12 months I have seen, been through, and done many things. I will not bore with the details, but I only mention this to say, the way I update and write going forward could be entirely different fo the way I have gone about it before and I am sorry to any that may be displeased with such a development. If I have not updated any in that time frame, consider this the last war cry of a dying dream. Thank you for your time, no one else has made me feel more proud, special, and inspired as you all have.
          
          Thank you, sincerely, E. Leopoldo Zacarias.

I feel it... The joyous times, though I will not be joining them. I work as my hands crack and break at the labor they endure. My body, that of a sturdy mountain, fot for punishment, yet my mind, akin to the weak with nothing to do but think. This body of mine responds and conquers those, yet my mind is not set on conquest. My mind goes to the simplicity where this body is not needed...