The Stages Of Waking Up In The Morning, Or Anytime After Any Period Of Sleep Longer Than Twenty Minutes In Duration

My father is soft-eyed Hypnos, who passes through the gates of night and drifts slowly over the darkling earth in the train of his gloomy mother Nyx, bearing an inverted torch dripping sweet beads of poppy and smelling thick of lamplight…charmer of conquerors, who draws full breaths deep into men’s chests and leaves them drowsing on riverbanks and soft couches. Who has stolen me rudely from my father’s kingdom – snatched me from my silent ebon couch – plucked me from the cloud-hid palace of the drowsy king, where no beams of sun or moon penetrate at dawn or noon or night, but dim-breathed vapors rise in doubtful twilight, where no cry of goose or cock or hound ever summons the day, no branch rustles, no human stirs, where silence only dwells, and the plashing drift of Lethe over pebbled rows drench fields of poppy and other bland and languid herbs. I am half-brother to Death, grandson to Night, heir of Sleep and defended by Dreams, betrothed to formless Fantasy and bound never to cross the gates of horn and ivory. Your harsh world of clamor and contention wearies and confuses me – I am too frail, too pale, too lush to thrive here. I will not eat your food, not the lushest plate of figs and plums, not the merest drip of honey; I will take no comfort here and make no promises. If you love me, if you would wed me, it must be in my father’s kingdom, not here.

Oh Christ it hurts, oh Christ and Jesus and God it hurts, oh God it hurts, oh my god it hurts it hurts

I WAS DEAD BEFORE AND I CAN BE DEAD AGAIN PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF OTHERS AND PUT THE STUDS BACK IN MY BRAIN WHEN YOU ARE FINISHED USING IT

This isn’t the world I fell asleep in, this isn’t the body I was using before, someone turned up all of the contrast and they’re all hurting me and I don’t know why I woke up into the Hellraiser universe but it’s not fair and someone needs to take me back to the universe where Hellraisers only exist as a movie conceit

Who did this to me? Who did this to me? Who — did — this to me? Who did this to me? Who, who did this to me? Who did this to me? Who did this to me? Who did this to me? Who did this to me? Who did this to me?

PUT IT BACK! PUT IT BACK! CHRIST, YOU’LL – PUT IT BACK BEFORE ANYONE FINDS OUT, THERE’S NO TIME —