Below are the 3 most recent journal entries recorded in Crimson Calligrapher's LiveJournal:

Tuesday, January 31st, 2006
2:21 pm	Lullabies to Succubi In darkness I dwell, a ghost among men. Mere mortals are they, while I am eternal. I feed off of the legions, those who have come and gone. All will pass. Only I will remain. Is this a blessing or a curse? The answer eludes me. But the damned cannot be blessed, the unholy made holy. I am an enigma, a bloodthirsty ghoul. Both a taker and a sustainer of life. I am all things wicked and impure. I am legend. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, January 20th, 2006
2:54 pm	My father just bought a new set of steak knives the other day. He doesn't know how long it's been since I first started cutting myself. For years, I used to break the blades out of disposable razors he would buy. Thankfully, he never noticed razors missing, neither had he found them broken and bladeless in my trash can. He would institutionalize me again if he ever suspected anything out of the ordinary. I've spent too much time as an in-patient to ever reveal what I've been doing to myself. In other words, I know better than expose freshly inflicted cuts for anyone to see. Lately, I've been digging deeply into my legs. It's been cold, so keeping new cuts a secret under layers of clothing has been rather easy. Cutting is something I can control. It adds a sense of stability in my life. I know I'm alive when I bleed. It's easy to explain: the depth and length of the wound is dictated by how much pain I feel I deserve. Cutting, and ultimately, the flow of blood, is symbolic of my very existence. In essence, factors of my life, which inevitably vary, determine the outcome of my existence. My existence is out of control and in need of bandaging. Though there'll be no steak for dinner tonight, I'll know how sharp those knives really are. (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, January 15th, 2006
5:25 pm	Sunday Mourning 2:30 PM: I rise. Emerge from the dreariness of my sullen tomb This pre-death place of rest. Oh, dreaded sunlight Damn your torturous luminescence! The Hell inflicted in each sinister ray Haunts my every waking hour... But I am not awake. Frozen by the cold embrace of a lover, Damned. I am alive and yet I am not. Death masquerades As I lift a chalice to my icy lips And prepare to begin another dreaded day... Bittersweet nectar flows As warm crimson fluid Lines the innards of this hollow vessel. And I am renewed. (1 Comment |Comment on this)