Journals of a Psychopath.



Clarkson drinks and takes drugs, he thinks the trees speak to him and steer his course.

The Trees and the Archangel

      “You have displeased us.”
The Presenter united with the Purifiers and an expectant air was around. Connecting my lips to the ground and I mumbled using a language only the Declarer, the Darkest-One and the Trees understood. Agitation inundated the Forest Characters and the branches leaned in an unnerving manner.
      “You murdered Connor in the isolation chamber you excluded us from the pleasure,” the Orator said.
The Trees and the Archangel had granted permission to slay him in the segregation cell, but they assumed I would include them. Cutting into my skin the blade was sharp and gouging my arms, the slashes were deep.
      “Stop,” the Trees and the Darkest-One said.
I carried on with the atonement, eventually, I ceased. Treating the wounds, I realized they were numerous, pouring bourbon into the gashes and then I dozed, I dreamed about the Trees and their displeasure.


I was uptight, the slashes were forgotten, I had to find the Lady Flarice, I could not admit to the Trees and the Darkest-One I had lost sight again. Searching for the Lady Flarice, I found her in Flints she was in the corner with a friend. Slinking outside and the aggression welled I lurked on the sidewalk. A hooker approached young and tempting her mammary glands were clustered together. Francesca’s skin was brown and her bone structure suggested depth of character. Her dark-brown hair hung over her shoulders. She was dressed in a long leather coat she was impressive, I remembered Candice.
      “How much do you charge?”
The price was agreed. Through the frosted glass, I could see the Lady Flarice's outline.
      “Suck my sex organ.”
Francesca brushed her lips over it, I climaxed, and I studied Lady Flarice's blurred form, I was frustrated.
      “On your knees,” I said.
The middle joints in her leg relocated onto the icy ground. Coming, I squirted the man-milk into Francesca’s face, and I rubbed it into her skin. Seeking her oral cavity, my manhood banged against Francesca’s throat, and as the ejaculation approached, I pulled from her lips, and shot the man-cream onto her hair.


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