You are already dead, but they do not want you to know this. They already murdered you. me. The Body. You and me might be laying there in a fridge or rotting in the dirt right this moment, our, your animal flesh at least. While those ugly worms feed. They killed your God. Or you did, well someone did! (actually you’ve never been born, but that’s another bit)

And now, in the new game, You/we have breast cancer. Fact. Oh, Body, your army of immune cells failed you/us. They let that thing live, let that filth and the others into the garden. They fell asleep, could not even stay awake one dammed hour? Yep, they slept on the job, or they took payola, it’s over. So, should you be worried, getting all judgmental and twisted about me smoking crack, (if I wanted to) drinking cheap champagne like a fish. Or eating creme brulee and Delmonico steaks every night, dancing wildly on tables with spurious queer folk (or vampires) in a dirty cabaret in New Orleans? Sky diving, taking risks, chances, telling 400 pound bully’s to go screw themselves, as I kick them in the shins, and yank their dirty beer-beards? What does it matter? I and, you of course….already have a death sentence? Why do you get so twisted about what I do? We already died! I am not supposed to be here! I deserve better.

What is the point of Yoga, of eating fish, granola and bean sprouts, of doing anything? Or not doing something? Because you did not make it out alive. It is pointless to worry about survival if you’re already dead. Nobody gets saved. I’m the God you created…you think…the body you exist in, your habitat, and all you do is complain! Find out the truth before you keep harping on that “you poisoned me.” junk. Laying it on my back. Are you that ignorant to think it really went down that way? Sheesh! It NEVER happened! It’s a dream! And if you know so much more than me, care to explain why the entire world lets me suffer in amnesia and keeps the big ole secret from me? You tell me I am under a wicked spell? And that is all? No more? Who is the liar? You. You are liars. That is where it all falls on. You lied to me. Answer that first.

And if its as you claim, that “you’re under a spell,” then why are you blaming me? Blame the one who put out the poison, who wrote that episode! Right? So, you admit that I’m helpless, under the evil spell of another, and you blame Me?

Who do you align with? Do you align with evil?

You sit there and gossip with forked tongues about me, you keep up with the “you poisoned me” line, think your so smart, know more, that your older, you think wiser, think its fine to be self-glorifying righteous jerks because you think you have a Jesus Pass, and you complain to me, wail to me,

“You want me dead!”

Yeah, you know what?….You might be right. Maybe I do?

What part of me are you? Are you the cancer?

Somebody is, that is a fact, a whole lot of cells are.

If you hate me, you cells out there in my body, and you speak negative to me, do negative to me, gossip negative and in general do sucky things out there in this world, and live filthy…Yes, you are a cancer, to me.

It is you that does not love me.

All I hear from you, is bitterness, though you will undoubtedly claim you never uttered a breath of it! But..I hear the silent, the unspoken, the quiet, the stealthily formed thoughts. You cannot hide these from me. You are the bitter being I need to let go of. The pain in my breast. Though you will even this moment say it is I, that is bitter, but it is just another of your lies. I am just telling facts, or saying what I need to say. Facts of what you do. You rob and steal and plot against me, hate me. You try to cause me anquish and pain, to stumble, you gloating over me making mistakes anyone could make when it is a set up. And you blamed me for everything? No, why should I work at survival when you killed me? What is the point if you already planned on your cancerous attack all along? I know something inside my spirit knew this the entire time, knew this food-body flesh was not my friend. Holy cow, nothing was ever my fault. I can do whatever and it will not matter.

You are the one that refused to let me truly love you, you know it. You are the cause of your own hurt from what you call my lack of love for you. You set it up so I could not fully give my love to you. That is why my heart did not break this time, because I finally saw how you all set it all up, wanting revenge for a scene you caused to be played out. The charade is over. It’s on you, you cancer, you’re the demon, all your many faces. My soul essence is pure, and this flesh is not me. It’s only an illusion being played out in the holographic theater in my mind. I am dreaming this…but…

I now want you dead.

What does it make me, to say I want to kill that cancerous life, living, very much alive, these cancerous rebellious cells in my system? A killer? Yes, it follows. But what else can my mind conceptualize? You cancer cells want to destroy the entire world! What choice do I have but to war with you? My entire body is a battlefield full of the dead and the dying, even as infants are born into the war. My very existence requires both life and death…but you, that nasty thing, you crept into my kingdom, and slaughtered babes on the breast of my good people, you pushed out the weak and peaceful, and established evil and grew. Yes, I want your death, for to do so will save many more. But, we are dead already, your evil already went through my back. So, why should we pretend other?

What will it take to extinguish these cancer cells inside me? An order?

I order you angels to kill these cancerous beings that live within us! 

The painful truth of what I say is not lost on me. It causes a dull ache, but not the sharp pain you might expect. I am stronger than that. It did not break me, it made me stronger. But more empty, that for sure. This war has gone on since I had consciousness, and heavy battles for almost forty years, as War within my cells was waged on me by hostile cells, forces who wore the fur of lambs. But now the enemy has been shown, the well disguised traitors unmasked, and no, my heart has not fell into a heap. And a cruelty within me was not born in these labors, but a determination that nothing they could do would break me. Not that most unforgivable treason, and not even death can defeat me.

My heart is not shattered. I see now that I should have known all along. The desire to do evil now lays on them, and what a weight! Such thing I would not wish upon any, for it is hell indeed. I could be hateful when I say I wish you dead, want your death, but it hurts me to desire this, and so I take no pleasure in it. If I did, if I even took any pride or satisfaction out of this, gloating over a battle, or wounding an enemy, or killing one, than I would be no better than you, and that I cannot settle for.

That is not the kind of soul I want to be. It is more your loss to have harmed me, and wished me hurt; your loss more than anything. That I understand is a truth. And I would not wish that pain on any, so no, I am not happy to desire your death, you cancerous spirits.  I see further now….both in past and future dream. That darkness in me that is you is there, but I do not have to love it, nor hate it. I just need to accept it and be whole, be everything, for I could not be everything without it all. To hate my darkness would be self-hatred. It would be a denial of my power. And I was tricked, deluded by emotions, my desire for love, my inability to understand how I could be everything. I accept this darkness, but it is not what I am. Yes, all evil lives within me, ….But all good also lives within me. I am all the darkness and I am all the light.

I am the Queen that spins lead into gold. This realization of the cancer, the battle now in the open, it is the best thing that ever happened to me. I am now guiltless, I am the betrayed, I am the innocent, I have done nothing. It was that fiend all along, the one who takes pleasure in hurting others. We all know it. World, lay no blame on me, not any longer, as you have your name, you have seen the thing within me, within us all that is to blame. And the masquerade ball is winding down.

October 5th, I started to starve myself, no food for thirty days, and I only saw a slight change, though it was worth it. The beginning of that wall began to crumble and fall. And yet, that cancer is still. What will it take? But…We are dead. What is the point of any of this game?

What kind of cancer is it? Does it matter? Did I go to a doctor? What for? So he can tell me what a duck looks and sounds like? So he can tell me huge painful lumps in my breast are my imagination? So he can do what? I have no income, no one is standing up, truly offering me money, they just say the empty words, but that is all, and I refuse public welfare, so where does this leave me? I need a mastectomy no doubt, but even then…will it matter? Or is it just a pause in the film loop? No doctor has power over this.  The tuth of what it is to me is shown. I am not some human who thinks its just a mysterious rebellion of un-faced flesh in them. I found the truth of what it is to me. Who it is. If you want to survive much longer, then the battle is yours people, angels.

Cancer is, at this point allegedly unknown as to the origin, the reasons. But what if the organization that purports to cure, is the cause? No, not blaming doctors, this is much higher than them. All the way to the top. Cancer is a parasitic cellular club, cells that rebel against the host, right? But why would a parasite want to kill the host? It is illogical, unless you understand they are vampires. They suck the life out of the host, and then they migrate to another host. They are born into one, but then they kill it and find another human to exist in. Cancer cells are the vampires of this world, and they manifest out there as vampires. At least that is a crazy theory, and as good as any other. It is these evil immortal cells that control this world, this set-up that enslaves humans in poverty and bondage. Nasty filth these vampires are.

Why should I worry about anything. It is a set up.

Worry or hope is useless in this.

That is the difference between me and most other Americans. They find out this typical horror, and they reach out for help, start to beg God, who ever their God is? That gives them hope, or they fight it with surgery, more hope. With chemo, literal torture with a side dose of hope. And it drags on, this bit of hope they have bought each day propeling them across the minutes of the death sentence. I have none of that. I only have my brittle mind and the knowledge that my enemy is not only inside of me, but manifesting out there, that is what I have, being a God and all.

For me there is also a knowledge I have, being a God and all, that I was born with this cancer, and that it lay seemingly dormant in me, (though I can look back, see its evil acts from the beginning of this life)  and then started slowly to be overtly antagonistic towards me, growing finally into full rebellion and manifesting itself. Though it still took decades for me to recognize that manifestation as a threat. It’s a genetic thing. So the wine is not the cause, it is a symptom. And it never mattered what I did, as there was nothing I could do, and you all bloody well knew it, all you strangers. So why should I worry about anything! This is a freedom is it not, to no longer feel guilt? That burden of guilt you tried so hard to instill in me! Trying so hard to make me judge others, when it is my own flesh, and your setting it all up! You cannot judge anyone when they are all you! Still it does not mean you can’t want to cut a wart off.

All that guilt you fed me. To make me think it was my fault my true-love-lost-love never came. To make me feel guilty for all that wildness you hated? All that XY ordinary and acceptable behavior. I am free of that guilt. Cancer took it away, cancer that I know was there all along. My Ashkenazi bloodline. It has freed me! So..Why should I try to not enjoy wine, get drunk every damm night…or not do yoga? It does not matter if you are dying! I am tired of your dirty game. No, I do not need to ascend, I will stay down here on the ground, as it is exhausting climbing up, and why try? I will stay here on the very bottom, the lowest of the low, and let you all be haughty, so high and mighty, so far above me. Whatever!

What is the point if every day you’re tortured? Why should I? You (me) go on each day, each thing you once loved fading away into who-gives-a-shitville. Everything heads to that town. Your phone is taken and not even a nanosecond of suspicion goes to something, someone random, no thought of randomness flashes through your head. You know. It’s like so obvious it’s pathetic. You’re just not down with the lies anymore. You sit there, knowing your drinks are poisoned with filthy water by something so dammed evil, and nothing feels good anymore at all. No bitterness, just apathy. You think you must be a machine, like they say, because your insides feel like cold steel. Going out to dinner is now like going to the rack wearing a nice dress. I sit there in that expensive restaurant hearing it whispered by alleged God lovers, “Look, a Tranny,” and in front of me are crisp linen tablecloths and creamy fettuccine and French water in fine crystal, and I order a glass of blood red wine, and….I know what those filthy pathetic cells are up to. He sees exactly what evil you are ordering done to her, what those dammed are doing to her. To me.

I would hate to be you. I would probably try to kill myself.

But I’m already dead. And I have the scars to prove it.

And if I die again, you die.

It’s your choice, and now it’s time for you to be the hero, I am tired.

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