𝕺 𝕭 𝖘 𝖈 𝖀 𝕽 𝖀 𝖘

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April 25th, 2019




Gender: Male

Age: 114
Country: United States

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February 22, 2019


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03/14/2019 04:48 PM 

The Dark Twin, for Tina.



The Dark Twin


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   Lost, between interesting buildings poking around the tower Eiffel's skyline, finding a way out from the Circus Arcanus, if I was told to be a freak, found out I still don't fit in here. In the underground streets of Paris going down busy bellow too among people around in all sort of different styles from glamorous to ragged, seeing parallel to me the boats in the river with people who came from work sightseeing trips along the Seine, were no one sees me. The stone column at the middle of the park topped with a golden statue. 

   And there she was Propertina Goldfield for me she was like a social worker, sceptical watching over my childhood, it was maybe the day I saw were she wiped everyones mind in the streets of New York City that I will never forget, because she stoped my step mother from harassing me in public and every day. Hidden under the anti magic movement, shrouded in tragedy walking through the fog and rain, summer hit with my paper flyer friends in that secondary contact to strangers. And there she is, always watching me. Now, I'm an adult finding her. 

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  This city has survived invasions, attacks, plagues and fires, innovations and great artistry too. Burst into motion on the spur of the shared impulse, stare in dismay unready, clothed by a certain poverty of fresh air, juvenile clogging my movements until I was paralysed. I might have learn to channel my Obscurus, It resides in me, still work to pay the bills on my own were this dark cloud grows, it kills me inside, it feeds from me, stood up everyday asking to find my real mother, "One more day Credence, one more." Choking my breath to never see the day light again and raise, as articulated she was, she knew I was an adopted child, why did she near me, why couldn't she test me and free me, the outrage was a vivid insight caught in a fortress of torment to never get out, did she feel me, was it evidence she lacked? And I see her again standing about to surpass this muggler world to the next. 

  Tilt slightly around the column, slowing by three steps forwards to make her feel unharmed with a resignation weight to face her. "Tina..." 

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   At her sight trembled in a certain anger, now did not hesitate to hide, tried to say something, have never speak to anyone much, at her back, at her notion to turn. Taken aback one step, at once seized the opportunity, should have been prepared but what choices I have for permitting rejection. Breathing tight because, I don't want to belong, trusting no one, no one trusting me, blinded but for the vision to find out who am I. Whom am I, braking my voice out,.. it came out. "Whom am I?"

  It was not just me, to believe the ones who ignored me to the distant boomings of my own, but another entity feeding, I knew they want me, instinctively is all that in this instance could follow. While the screaming echoed in my nerve system slapping the corners of my body to come out, I breath it in and it devours me, there is no appetite in this poor senses accumulating purged from weakened flavours. Thirsty to know, crashed into her flexing my knees for balance, pausing to remain stable for her, if any eruption of obscured desire to explode and drill out everything I contain could help me find, were this source comes from. Who is behind my blood line. My limbs strained with suppress need.

 At first her well dress and gentle manner and then her eyes, questioning sipping into mine could feel. If she knew what she could do, I knew she could not wipe my mind, but was not for that reason that I forgot... trembled inside because, I broke the laws they intend to shoot me with,  and in her eyes something unique I see, she cares, suspect that caring exists. For that reason,... is that for me,... she lost the place in her job, she told me back in New York City, when the story of who I'm not begins. 



03/14/2019 03:10 PM 

I don't need to hide



I don't need to hide


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  For a moment my mind was filled with the memory of that day, an image so real that it seemed to occupied my bits of information left behind, thrumming slightly, clanked to stop they herd were I was, they could see me stooping above the rail shouting my name to surrender. I would destroy them I swear, if I could disappeared was all that I wished between the obscurus entity who elevated me. I couldn't control it, it had been new how they wear their masks in the mugler world, never had known the force that unleashes me as much they wished it to control it, it was my only salvation. 

  Yes, my mother had killed, go away, there is nothing for me turning back to pay tribute to their voices, they slam sweetly in my ear driving me crazy, who is that person with a short curlier hair nearing me as if to convince me with good modals, that I will be fine? So far away from my tangled nerve system erupting in obscurity, could tell was that's the only way that soothes me. 

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 Now, crowded not in the mountain far away the circus, far from her got tighter still overviewing the panoramic, still trying to visualise for have I not come along journey. He took his hands away his pocket giving me a wand allowing his voice to drop another notch, I knew he was guided to be gentle at me, they could fear my hyper sensibility, eternally wounded, here was a peculiar expression of concern on his face to a mythical black son. Why would Grindelwald need me if he is so powerful, it was as close as a sense of sympathy and recognition, perhaps the one my living never had as a white man who thought himself as the Good within the Greater and to me, his plot boy.

  "Queenie was looking for answers doing the correct without seeing it fit, and now the answers bring meaning to my pain I see you are here for your freedom?" 

   He was grinning and mopping his streaming eyes with his thick and gaging authority, the only person who neared me and could trust my growing power, that suffered is and something that light, away the mountain, that shine, seemed like a pretty nice thing to be away the city. You could tense pain, fear, cool loneliness and tortured discipline in a crowd, insults from the presumed, under a thick skin that little have known from what Queenie left behind, becoming resilient, stand away and non seem to understand her freedom, if she spoke of love and more magical laws, I was not aware of what she meant wasn't it fine to just be having what she held, at least. 

  "What is it for me to fight for?" And listened to his words as I have a brother who wishes to kill me.

  Inhale sharply as he throws the bird in the air, flaming its rage as the phoenix flying upwards, were it catches alight and explains me the meaning, the time transits in a slower motion as its winds vamp above our heads and hills becoming full sizes a reborn phoenix.

"It's your birthright, my boy.
As is the name I now restore 
to you,
Aurelius. Aurelius
Dumbledore"

  Turn my vision inwards as the power of my Obscurus can at least be channeled it's a part of me that needs no remorse and no forgiveness, I deny it. Pointing the wand at the window, a magic spell of immense power shatters the glass and breaks apart shooting the mountain opposite for whom ever has celebrated my torment. Perceive through the shattered glass my work. This is outstanding and its has just begun.

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03/14/2019 03:07 PM 

From New York to Paris



                               


 There ought for me to see this city with the eyes on an old man, as by body is dead and my name buried in the news from the children of the streets who shouts, the paper, the paper I see now that wasen't me and likewise chased by the Manhattan multitude that from block to block in the great apple purchased a dream, the dried nicotine buds in the concrete of this floor that how further along million feet shunned by all them till night, because I was starting to believe that the church organs in the cathedral of Saint Patrick, claimed to announce the coming of our redemption to the golden heavens I was once a child for you my lord and now as the gates are open and my spirit is set free. I know, I know how special you can turn to be when you can't stop me.

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A stray workingman putting his coat, after his wife kissed him goodbye peering into the strangers as one among, and then a team of dogs unguarded flaked their tails happily as the Irish gangsta of New York, showing their falling tongues to the side with a smile drawing the adventures on their doggy faces, what more wounds could they have than my hands. If they had no pain for the many fights they had, cos they had each other to troll around, and if you keep walking behind the building and the next you seem them all belonging to some sort of end to pull the day and as the echoes in my mind could recall, in a morning and the next, that all I have is hanging in my neck. 

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  It still so pervasive the gentle gesture in which yesterday you had me, and those shouts for freedom in the subway that for the first time there is no attachments, and where ever you are, I can walk with the dignity for I pertain to carry on regardless I'm a grown up boy, or a young man. So, walking in the murder scene were I'm very much part to the crimes, took the money of my adopted dead mother, satisfied for the injuries she made are nothing more but a little bag of coins to carry on. So, be it, possibly at home and impossible to anticipate my travels looked for my birth certificate and placed carefully folded a few garments on a old small suitcase making my way to the port were after purchasing a ticket to Paris walk along the market place, were a man was roasting hazelnuts atop a small chariot he had with four bicycle weals. A few pennies were enough and I had never got one for myself, so I crack them with my teeth and pealed the hard shelled burning my lips, but how exquisite to be able to taste its tender inside, without the need of hearing shouts for food.

Curious of mine as admiring around the new travelers who stepped for the first time in their dream of the New World, curved my back cleaning my mouth with a now filled stomach, pocketed my hands as a rich man and took my boat to Paris.

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 The propelling oars as the engines took locomotion, held my hands to the edges of the boat, my heart ached to know of my mother and father. Began largely to see that at any side of this world will work my way to find what I think to deserve, and the travelers waved them handkerchiefs and the ladies their headscarf in the air, could just hold my hat on my head for the windy day, astonish by the parting multitude I loved to be one among this boat.

11/14/2018 02:59 PM 

special


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  Began now to perceive that it was in my power to walk on, and this was a wanting desire which killed shattering me in fine pieces, I wouldn't make a split to channel the heavy sickness of suffering from her bitterness and lack of luxuries, in her frigid skin, in the lack of range to a sensitive palette to my flavour, in the richness in which I endorse perhaps the adoration but to her punishment for being me.

  Looking around for a hall were she could bring speech was not enough, she had to bit me with my belt, in the hands who offered her my time to her, fostered by her satisfaction to control me,  stop me, puritan against the witches I delivered her fliers as an apocalyptical prevention to her Bible in the teachings she gave me to control myself, guarding the inflicting pain she given me, accusations of her own, to her own,... is the power of the Obscurial she gave me. 

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   You wouldn't be in here listening to my story, describing my search for those who birthed me once if I'm alive they must have touch their skin closely as she never could. 

   By mistake or sin, they had the ability of creating me at least to want each other for that very second, what would have been the worst? That my mother was rape? Then my father desired her and got away, did they die? Did they exist for that moment in taking me inside of her? 

   If she made my existence to breath outside her body, because I imagine she did carry the seed of me in her flowering mothering womb, she must have being a beautiful woman to cause a man the least attraction of having her in his arms, against his will or with, she had. 

   But this pain I feel is far from the punishments of having her away, of not letting her know who I'm, she must be lost in a ghost or among the living without me. How could I wan't to destroy this destine so much to find her.

   ...special...

   ...I heard the unnatural voice of his recalling that name, so, he wished me to inform him for the girl or boy who was so close to me in his dream, and called me...

   ...special... 

   ...he has not truly seen me, either was my solace or my solace to get out, I could not show the remote power who set free along the city's sky lines unless it was set free apart from the facade of myself...

   ...special...

  ...and he vanished to the powers of his business drifted by promises to whom how...

  ...special...

  ...it seem to me as I might clearly see that was not the freedom I was to be looking for, and they called me names, afterwards ongoing...

 ...special...

 ... tags through my growth tossing me away as others walked their streets pocketing their hands with their bills in the warmth of their properties, skipping in the rubbish the warning of my well printed flyers, one more in the multitude, under my frozen bowed spine to eye them, have them for a second that...

  ...special...

 ...pamphlet to the prophecy I was punished by delivering the trumping call and they wanted me to serve them as I could see, till I was eighteen, they will never have me wholly without being recognised as my mother did, in that single memory survived for the...

 ...special...

 ...need they feed from a charity of service which in my bow of poverty I did that...

 ...special...

  ...contrast of handling paper to be noticed, so had silenced as my prayers consistently to live through the splitting force who called for her along the distances of my despair, did they heard my abstracted shout clouding through the ether's night along the buildings, for how...

  ...special...

  ...it sets me free, eloquent to believe along the impossibility of this chaos who perhaps as I stand walking as another it fastens a move along this lasting long streets of Manhattan a capital to the New World to the escapist of Europe who rumbled back and forth from the same investors whom they run away from, slaves of the same perditions, flyers, flyers, passing away from this...

  ...special...

  ...evening because she is not with me to the announcement, but as you don't see me I know she waits to have my name called under her whispering perfume, to how...

  ...special...

  ...it's to breath purely under her complete smile, that new born, a year old can regard fight of not loosing the memory of her for that I was owned to believe that was loved the form I'm to sense by her lost, my docile mother. The only strength I ever had to breath and exist, that inside this cool existence I thrill with gratitude despite the dream of her who soothed my cries to travel on this...

  ...special...

  ...trip. How did her melody composed out the hungered in one noise, that misery followed me next with my era, as a curse of changes out her juvenile impulse to love for that broad me into her arms, once breast feed me by her....

  ...special...

  ...milk, and once she held me in her complicity to have fruit her love, how unguarded to a demoniac flip, a flip who certainly carried me away her nest to survive from an accident whom I desire to no one. And is this desire which fostered me to stop, flipping away my body, venting for you whom makes me so...

  ...special...

  ...to have kill the false prophet of an adopted relationship in which pain I don't see... 

..special.


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