This pretty much sums up what I've been feeling the past five hours after finding out something disturbing. I've been tossing and turning in my bed, figuring I'd go to sleep and edit the Thursday story after waking up, but I just had to write this one down (I guess my Thursday story will now be a Friday story).
*picture is originally from http://www.bloodyloud.com/surreal-faceless-portraits-bryan-durushia/
01/23/2014 (Thursday)- An Angel Can Also Lie
A devil sat on my shoulder, whispering lies and sins and black smoky words.
An angel sat opposite, told me to believe and trust but his words could not quench the fire that the devil had started.
I tried to drown it: with whiskey, gin, vodka.
I tried to forget the picture he gave me: in shots, in glasses, in tumblers.
It only grew hotter inside my heart, his pitchfork rending and tearing, fel laughter echoing in its four chambers.
Oh how I cried.
Oh how the angel lied.
As he held the devil’s hand and watched me slowly die.