This Strange Effect (Prologue—Side B)

DSC_6958© 2017 City of Broken Dreams


You’re in my system, baby
Deep in my system
You’ve got me going crazy
Inside my system
You’re in my system, baby
Deep in my system
You’ve got my soul and body
You’re in my system

Nu:Tone, “System”


Some of you already know this. I am inextricably linked to the monster. Ryan Evan’s violent delights are my terrible nightmares: every time he takes a victim; every time he penetrates her, grabs a hold of her still beating metaphysical heart, and eats it in front of her it as she watches on in horror—I see it all, in my dreams. And now my dreams haunt me, all the time. I no longer sleep; I can only dream my horrible dreams.  

This is why I must stop him; to stop the dreams, to once again be able to sleep. I wish I had a more noble, more selfless cause. Like the well-being of the women, for instance. It’s not that I don’t care about their suffering—no living being should ever have to endure the esoteric brand of pain and punishment that Ryan Evan inflicts upon his victims. But protecting and preventing them from falling into the jaws of the beast is not my main priority. Perhaps it would be if I were a better man. But I am not a better man. Nor am I a good man; I am just a selfish man—one who so badly needs to sleep.

Although, many monsters haunt the streets of the City of Broken Dreams, he is of the very worst kind. Ryan Evan: eater of broken girls, bringer of my nightmares—he is my one true nemesis and he must be stopped. And so I hunt him; the act of stopping him has become a newly evolved component of my autonomic functioning. Ryan Evan is my own personal Count Dracula, and so I must become my own version of Abraham Van Helsing; I will not rest—I cannot rest (quite literally)—until the monster is slain.   

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This Strange Effect (Prologue—Side A)

DSC_6926© 2017 City of Broken Dreams


Need you
Dream you
Find you
Taste you
Fuck you
Use you
Scar you
Break you

Nine Inch Nails, “Eraser”


Of course encountering Ryan Evan will leave you forever changed.

After all, being psychically raped and murdered by a metaphysical serial killer tends to change a person.

And note that I said that an encounter with Ryan Evan changes a person.

Because remember: Ryan Evan isn’t the kind of serial killer that actually kills you in the end—okay, well at least not by his own hands, anyway.

Now don’t get me wrong; Ryan Evan is without a doubt, one of the sickest, most twisted individuals currently in existence. However, that being said, it must be noted that the kind of violence that Ryan Evan inflicts upon his victims is far, far worse than what any corporeal serial killer would inflict upon one of their own victims. You see, Ryan Evan’s sadistic modus operandi far exceeds the limits of flesh and bone: he actually removes and devours his victims’ metaphysical hearts.

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Rope: A Bondage Story (I)

 dsc_4969a© 2017 City of Broken Dreams


I believe whatever doesn’t kill you, simply makes you stranger.

—Heath Ledger as The Joker in The Dark Knight


The thing about addiction is, no matter what it is that you are addicted to—whether it’s shooting smack or pulling on the arm of a one-armed bandit—it’s still a fucking addiction. And even though there are some addictions that are more likely to kill you than others, in the end, your addiction will always destroy you.

She isn’t stupid. Having already had her fair share of addictive vices in her relatively short life, she fully understands the rules of engagement when it comes to the relationship between her and the monkey that has ostensibly made a permanent home on her back.

Even with the rope—despite its relatively innocuous nature—she fully realizes that her dependence upon this particularly idiosyncratic device, if allowed to get out of hand, could easily slip out of control and turn against her. She knows this; she understands the potential risks and repercussions, and yet, at this moment in time, she doesn’t really care. 

And the reason for why she doesn’t care, is quite simple:

She can now sleep, without the shadow of never wanting to wake up looming over her.

She can be awake and still be sober.

She can live the semblance of a relatively normal life without teetering perilously on the edge of the abyss.

When the morning comes, she rises from her bed to greet the dawn of a new day. She accepts it, she embraces it. Long gone are the days when she would shrink back from the morning light like a vampire withering in the rays of a newly risen sun.

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