The Cursed Bed

Original Post

Someone stole my bed once...

I put it outside to air out...

came back later and it was gone...

It was my escape pod from the missus at the time...

I slept right on the floor for at least two years if I wanted to get away to my own sleep space.

Anyway, I cursed that mattress and whoever had it to unspeakable horror in their sleep...

But, alas, being only the humbled reincarnation of Aleister Crowley, no one will report in one hundred years that the bed of Chris Titan has been exorcised.

Quite the contrare, that cursed mattress, a mattress that I stole from a pretty nasty group home...god knows what transpired on it before I had it...to make it worthy of me...and that matress will be handed down by the junkie skum who stole it for 100 more years. It will be that nasty mattress left in a field that teen agers find themselves passed out on, covered in vomit, and not remebering what happened...black out

The black outs are notorious from lounging on this artifact of my outrage, recharged a hundred nights as I slept on blankets against the hard wood floor. No one can tell you...they cannot describe...and do not remember...the mind numbing agony of pitiless terror...the rageing threat that consumes but never actually bring you to the sweet point of deaths release...time slows to a minute crawl...the scream of the throat slow and droning...the inverted udgita...the OM of the void place of the spirit. The roar every moment more fierce, each second a pang of fresh fear, more deep and anxious than the last, every heart beat a gasp of panic....

Yeah, they stole my bed...

I found a foam pad at the fabric store for $30.00 on sale and it worked like magick...