Broken Thoughts… Do Not Crush or Chew… Swallow Whole…

The razor blade digs into my side
A contraption meant for something else
Reusing useless item to make a point


The absence of your insignificance

Spitting the venom foaming at the mouth
I loved you so much that I wish I was dead
Standing at the crossroads of crucifixion
A place that meant so much before
Words carry no weight
Cliched, depraved edition of everything said
Spinning in circles looking for something that isn’t there
A long ass sentence with no point
Left alone so long ago
Abandoned to the point no one knows
Lost in time and space
All the ideas we decided to create

Selfishness and everything I strive to be

Hung over, fractured skull
Left regretting mistakes
Still processing all the shame
Brain on fire and only one to blame
Stand still, watching the world spin
Slowly becoming, sober

Flesh from the bone… heart torn from the soul…

The flames of despair are flaring up again
Taking away any confidence I may have had
Searching the world for my ego
Stealing from all those around me
Demented dimensions of disproportionate thoughts
Shattered shadow slowly dying in the dark
Lost everything when I lost you
Took away anything I thought I had
A talent for noticing how fucked up I am
My will sways in the wind
Broken branches littering the ground
Up routed and so far from where I began
Where do I go
Standing before a fork in a destroyed road
No path free from your corruption
No path that hasn’t already been worn down
Sell my soul for a little peace
A thoughtless thought that haunts me

Burning through my notes at an unusual pace… honestly trying to clear most of this mess off my desk… move on to something new… I’d love to start working on my novel… well I have but I have been at an impasse… Been too lazy… collecting excuses… collecting pages of distractions… Been so long I’m starting to forget what it was even about… not a good sign… figure it all out in time… everything in time I suppose…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Broken Thoughts… Even When I Ain’t Saying…

You keep coming at me
Sticking your face where it doesn’t belong
Maybe it is your ideology that puts you in your place
Maybe it is all the things that you couldn’t say
Beat you down to make it go away
A constant fight with too much at stake
Killing the reasons that drive me insane
Choking all these feelings, put them in their place
Maybe it is all the things I have to take
Maybe it is all the times I have felt raped
The words sink in and I don’t know what to say
Too many days feeling this way

I don’t play God I just Sheppard in his beliefs

Your little tragedies are building up
A cut here, a scar there
The blood rebuilds but never heals
A truth we don’t want to believe
Invincible in the sense that we are not
Riding this thoughtless thought out

Taking each moment in

Falling victim to the flames
Standing up to the walls of Christ
Stuck somewhere in between
A theory, a thought on it all
Trying harder to not try at all
Trapped in a wake I can not escape
God had a plan she just forgot to tell me
Rising above the tide, a glimpse, a vision
Comes to mind but why should it ever
Make any sense
Intention are never the same as actions
Reading minds never got me anywhere

The voices take me under

The darkness hides a secret
A truth we could never take
The nightmare of it all
Inflicted with so many issues
Praying is one way to bring in the demons
Drinking has always been
An escape I could never afford
Breaking down all the reasons
You are still in my mind
Miss the days it was only
You and I
My regrets aren’t the ones hidden on the surface
Resting in the shadows
Sleeping on the cold floor of my heart
Miss everything I could never have
Choices made
Decisions out of my control
Spreading messages I don’t even understand
Saying shit I don’t know how to say
Broken, I wish they’d just go away

Chipping away at all these notes… feels good to get some of this off my mind… my heart… my soul… if words were an avalanche of shit… I’m buried under them… haha… could you imagine?… may have thrown up in my mouth a little bit… if you have ever changed a diaper… the smell alone… shiver… haha…

There is no good transition from that last paragraph… though technically is it a paragraph if all the sentences are broken up?… never covered that one in school… odd they never covered any of my style in school… well that’s not fair… they probably did… but more in the what not to do… so you know I wasn’t listening… obviously… : )

In a good mood today… feeling life… writing all this depressing shit was a drag… kind of felt like who is this asshole?… then I remembered it was me… still in a good mood… good moods are bad for me… I’m not feeling this at all… this is very much gun to my head writing… but you deserve more… and I want to give it to you… maybe you don’t feel that way… maybe you think I am crazy… hey no one reading this really knows… listening to Where Is My Mind by The Pixies… (Not even going to link that… because you should know that song…) Getting lost in that under water sound…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

When There Is No More Room… Part 9…

Only a Matter of Time

“Hello Liam,” I say as I enter the room. “Doctor,” he smiles in his own sinister way. “How’s everything today?” I ask him. “Oh you know can’t really complain. Got to sleep in late, watched as the birds played in the trees while I enjoyed my very nutritious breakfast, and afterword I went for a nice walk around town,” he deadpans. “Cute, I’m sure it is easy to get around town in that straight jacket,” I say to him. “It is a tad bit constraining, but you know the ladies love a man who knows how to dress for the occasion,” he laughs. “And I’m sure the ladies love you. It is only too bad that you are a danger to yourself and everyone else,” I say as I open the file in front of me. “A danger to myself?” he gasps. “Tell me is that your medical opinion or your personal opinion? Because I will have you know that there isn’t one person out there who would back up your claim,” he shifts in his chair. “That’s because beside me there is no one left who really knows you Liam. You made sure of that didn’t you?” I ask. He tries to lean his chair back but it is bolted to the floor. “There’s no use scratching at the scars of the past now is there Doctor?”

“Unfortunately that’s all you have any more. Tell me do you ever stop to think that may be the reason you are in here instead of out there?” I ask him. “Are you really asking me if I have time to think right now? Or are you simply trying to get through your checklist of nonsensical questions? Because I’m having a hard time telling the difference,” he fires back. I’m losing him. The nice guy, everything is a joke personality is starting to fade. I can see it in his eyes. The dark hollow orbs staring back at me. I write down my observation on the paper in front of me. “See something you like? Find something new? Care to discuss what new profound idea popped into your head?” I ignore his questions. Bait to fall into a trap. Liam likes words. Uses them to distract you, confuse you into doing exactly what he wants. A trait he must have possessed his whole life. “Stop looking at me like some sort of side show freak,” he growls. “Are you angry Liam?” I finally ask him. He tries to fake a smile but the real Liam has taken over, “No of course not.” His eyes never blink. Only if you are looking for it do you even notice that the skin around his eyes begin to tighten with every passing moment. No one the wiser would think he looks calm, cool, and collected, but I can see through his mask. He has the look of a mostly forgotten memory. “God, there is just so much of him left inside of you,” I say. The lines of his face form a most sinister smirk, “Do you mean our father?”

“Are you sure that I didn’t burn most of him out? Medically speaking.” Liam turns his head to show off his scars and what’s left of his left ear. “I’m very certain that no matter how much you hurt yourself you will always be like him,” I tell him. “Why don’t you take this straight jacket off and we can test that theory Doctor,” he says. His voice calm and his eyes like fire. “I’d prefer we didn’t. Medically speaking of course,” I smile. “I’m sure you do. Remember how you used to hide behind the living room curtains whenever he would come home? You were weak then and you are just as weak now. I never feared our father. Even as a child I could see what he was. Maybe I didn’t understand it completely but I knew what I wanted to be,” he muses. “Are you admitting that you were fully aware of your crimes?” I ask with my pen in my hand. He ignores my question. “You probably get off on the idea that your little brother is some kind of monster? But here is the thing brother. You can hide behind your little curtain. You can roam these halls pretending you are some educated healer, but we both know. I know that you aren’t. No, hidden away somewhere in that thick skull of yours he hides. It hides. You think you are better than me, but you are nothing more than the same,” he rants.

“I think that is enough for today,” I say uncomfortably. “Of course you do. You have no back bone. Never have. You can’t accept who you really are. What we are,” he taunts. Do not give in I think to myself. Don’t listen to his false words. “I can stand up for myself just fine. I know who I am and what I am,” I tell him. “Yeah and what is that Brother?” he asks me. “Sane, normal, a free man in this world. A man not strapped down by chains for sins committed.” I enlighten. He looks almost bored from my words. “I pity you brother I really do. You can hide behind your curtain, your title. The idea that you are sane. Free from the evils of this family, but in reality it is you that is in chains not me,” he taunts. “You can taunt me all you want Liam, but I am the one in control,” I say firmly. His eyes look as though they might jump from his skull, “You will never know the true meaning of control. You will never feel its true power for as long as you hide behind the curtain. Those victims as you call them were nothing more than stepping stones, martyrs to show me a better life. They showed me the truth of this world. Beyond our father. Beyond reason. So you can judge me all you want from behind your curtain or you can join me on the other side of it.” I signal for the orderlies to come in and take him away, “This meeting has been insightful as always. Can’t wait to see you in a few weeks to do it all over again Liam.” The orderlies place his muzzle around his face and left him up from the chair. “It is only a matter of time Brother. I can see it in your eyes,” he shouts as he exits the room. “Only a matter of time.”

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Broken Thoughts… If I Had A Tail… You’d Never Know…

They say I’m depressed
Enlightened by the idea
They even know me
The loneliness creeps up
Digs deep inside
Have always felt I have been
Left to die
A child’s thought buried inside
How long am I willing to ride this out?

Torn Between… Everything is fine…

My head is finally empty
A feeling I’ve been searching for
Though I don’t understand
Everything seems pointless
Repeated over and over again
Suicide doesn’t seem painless
But really only the next step

A sober thought lost in my mind…

The spiders shall crawl across your skin
From the darkness of you heart
Spinning webs in the empty space
Fading from the structure started
Disappearing in the disappointment
Of a lost idea in my head
Taking a long time to talk this out
So unsure what to say
Too many things killing me
Ignoring everything
Hard to breathe
Too many things getting in the way
Hard to tell
What the hell I’m even saying

Too depressed even for me… Walking it off…

“It has been awhile since we have seen each other. It has been a time since I have been like this. I have to say that I missed this. Missed us in a way that makes no sense.” I bash my head into the bathroom mirror. The image in front of me shatters. Lines of blood across my face and I stare into my cold dead eyes. “You’ve always been so beautiful. The things you do to me. The way you make me feel is unmistakable. You are me and I have always been you. That’s the smile I have missed.” The blood drips from my face, from my teeth, onto the sink, and staring. “They said we shouldn’t be together. I’ll admit I agreed for a time but now that we are back together? As I look into your eyes? Fuck them for ever tearing us apart. Who the fuck are they to decide what we mean to each other? They don’t know what it takes for us to walk this Earth.” I smash my head against the mirror once again. Tiny shards sticking out of my face. “Now let’s go show them what it is you really mean to me.”

That last one was fun… been sitting on that one for a while… no idea where it came from… I was planning for it to be this whole story… but fuck it… new ideas will come… very crazy mix of thoughts in this one… I know I throw words like suicide and death around… like they ain’t shit… need to stress that these are Broken Thoughts… moments that pass… some of them repeat in my head… so I can see why my friends and family worry…

I appreciate it… always have… I don’t use those words for attention… I take them very seriously… they are also only thoughts… feel guilty when I make others worry… because there is nothing to worry about… writing has always been a way for me to get this shit out of me… because that’s how I really feel… suicide and death is shit… there are plenty of things to live for… what else is there really to do?…

Death will come whether we want it to or not… the price we pay for life… so there is no reason to speed it up… there is always a way out… a lesson to be learned… even when you think there is no other way out… you’d be surprised that there is… I have been back against the wall… seen some shit… lived through things I’d never wish on anyone… feet still planted firmly on this earth… didn’t get through any of it alone… things always seem so much worse up close… at times we can feel so alone on this earth… trust me though you are never alone…

If I have learned anything from sharing my thoughts over the past two years… it is that we are never alone… something I think we all need to be reminded of every day… not everyone is your friend… but not everyone is a monster either… protect yourself… but don’t lock yourself away completely… things will get better… sometimes it takes time… sometimes all you have to do is ask… but things get better…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Something Different… In Your Own Words… Special Guest…

Untitled (Perspective In The Infinite…)
By: Unnamed Special Guest

I choke with every breath of air
It stands still and it tastes stale
I cringe at all the sounds of life
They shake my bones and make them frail
I find it harder everyday to keep the things
That make me care

I feel gravity dragging me down
It’s thick and heavy and very loud

Every breath a gasp and blink a weep
It feels easier to let the dark creep
Into my mind and let it drain
Into my veins so they seep

I feel gravity dragging me down
It’s thick and heavy and very loud

I think of final vitals, it wanders through my mind
It sends a lovely shiver up and into my spine
These thoughts and feelings never subside
I wish that I could have a hole
A place to hide, my last home

I feel gravity dragging me down
It’s thick and heavy and way too loud

I’ll find a way to make it end
Not by conclusion, but my own hand
Take the illusion, the one I had
Erase it all, now its not so bad

I feel gravity dragging me down
It’s thick and heavy and way too loud

I’ve been wanting to post this for awhile… the statement behind… rings very true… I didn’t write this in case you missed the by line… I did name it as it was presented to me as Untitled… I enjoy titles… Overall I enjoyed this whole poem… things that stuck out to me though… was the reference to The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath… If you have yet to read the one and only novel by Plath… I highly suggest you do… It is heart breaking and amazing… similar to how I feel about this poem…

The writer… deals with depression on a daily basis… I know a lot of us here suffer from something similar… I also know that a lot of us feel as though it is only us… it would be nice if none of us had to ever feel depression at all… but it is also nice to know we are not alone in this… That’s what I enjoyed the most about this poem… the perspective…

When There’s No More Room… Part 8…

A Pattern of Abuse

“Try again. Sound out the words,” his mother says holding back her frustration. “I know it can be difficult to read, but you have to learn.” She rubs the top of his head. The little boy looks over the page studying the images first and then the words. “The boy ex, escaped through the fa, fa,” he stops as a hand smacks him hard against his head. “Fire you dumb shit. It says fire,” his father barks. “Damn it James he was only trying to sound out the word,” his mother pleads. “Stupid doesn’t know how to read fire?” His father asks before taking another drink. “I ain’t raising no dumb illiterate asshole in this house. He ain’t going to add up to shit any way, but if he can’t read? Be even more worthless than he already is. Can’t be slow, fat, and stupid,” his father argues. “You are one to speak. You can barely,” his mother doesn’t finish the sentence as his father raises his hand. Tears begin to form in the boy’s eyes. “That’s right woman. Know your place,” his father says before finishing off his drink. The boy fights the urge to cry. He knows better than to show weakness. Fights even harder to not let his father see. “Are you crying?” His father asks. The boy tries even harder to make the emotions stop by looking down away from his father. His father grabs him by the back of the neck, “Those look like tears to me. I asked you a question. Are you crying?” Tears fall from the boy’s eyes. “No,” the boy yells. His father’s eyes light up. The spark that he needed. “James don’t. He didn’t mean it,” his mother pleads. “Bitch unless you want to be taught a lesson yourself I suggest you shut the fuck up and get me another drink.” His mother walks out of the room as the hand around his neck squeezes to the point he can barely breathe. “You don’t talk to me like that you little shit. Even got your mother acting stupid. Must be some kind of sickness going around here. Best to stomp this sickness right out before it spreads any further.”

James drags his son by the neck out of the room and down the basement stairs, “First you can’t even read. Now all of a sudden you the big man with the balls to talk to your father like that. You want to cry like a baby? We don’t cry in this family. You want to be a man? Act like one.” James throws his son against the cage across from the basement stairs. The boy’s body lands against the cage with a loud crash. Grabbing his side the boy cries harder as he lay against the dirt floor. “Get in the cage,” his father orders. Kicking the child in the back, “I said get in the cage. What are you deaf and dumb now? Don’t act like you don’t know what is happening.” The boy shakes in fear as he enters the cage. The cage door slams hard behind him as he falls to the dirty floor of the cage. Torn up bits of clothing and old rotten food surround him as he fights the pain in his side. Fights to breathe. Fight the urge to scream. He can no longer take it as he hears the familiar sound of his father picking up the old iron rod. He wails in pain and frustration as he knows what comes next.

“Strip,” his father orders. “I don’t want to,” the boy expels in broken words and snot. “Sorry what was that?” His father mocks. Striking the side of the cage with the iron rod, “Don’t you make me ask twice? No use in fucking up your clothes over your stupidity, but don’t think I won’t.” His father walks over to the furnace and opens the door. The boy does as he was told. The fire burning inside lights up the room. His father places the end of the rod in the fire before asking, “Are you sorry?” Too afraid to move, too afraid to see the boy lays there. “Are you or are you not sorry?” His father asks. “Yes,” the boy shouts. “I want to hear you say it,” his father demands. The iron rod heats up. The boy sits up and grabbing the side of the cage, “I’m sorry father.” His father stands there with his back facing him. Doesn’t even bother to look him. Only stares at the end of the iron bar in the fire,” I don’t believe you.”

“So this pattern of abuse went on for years?” The doctor asks. The young man nods to the question. “Why not report it to anyone?” The doctor asks. “To who?” He asks right back. Writing some notes down the doctor studies the young man’s body language. “Tell me Steven did it feel good doing what you did? Getting your revenge? Was it worth it?” The Doctor asks. “No, not really. It wasn’t worth it. I didn’t enjoy it the way that he did,” Steven says. “Odd because I don’t believe you,” the doctor smiles. Steven smiles back. “It did feel good shoving that hot iron rod right up his ass. Should have heard the way he screamed. The way he cried like a little baby until his last breathe. I didn’t enjoy the beginning but the end? It was too bad that it couldn’t have happened sooner. But we all learn a lesson in the end I suppose,” Steven rubs the scars on his side over his hospital gown.

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Right Now… And Five Minutes After… Okay Maybe Longer…

On My Desk Right Now

  1. Reciprocating Saw
  2. Mix of ash and saw dust
  3. Stacks of papers
  4. Ash Tray (Don’t smoke…)
  5. Lego building
  6. Pens and pencils
  7. Lemonade (The drink… not the person or Sprite)
  8. Speaker (Playing Feel Good Hit of the Summer by Queens of the Stone Age…)
  9. My head (Wondering… “what the fuck am I even doing?”..)

Answering a text. “Odd because so are we”… Context important only to me.

Looking over the papers. “What do I even want to do?… Write a story?… Broken Thoughts?… a poem or two?… Stare at the screen some more?… Puts head back on desk.

Daughter walks in the room. Screams at me about Ads on her knock off Minecraft game… “Fix it.” Too broke to buy the real thing… she is too young to even know how to use it… or so I think… deflects with… “I’m working”… Feeling like a shitty parent… the feeling will pass… Puts head back on desk.

Picks up lighter. (Seriously don’t smoke…) Lid catches on fire. (Too much fuel in the Zippo… Might be mentally challenged… stressing might…) Closes lid on lighter. Stares at the screen.

Thoughts in my head. I know that they are there… Big ass spider crawls across my desk. (Not Face Hugger Big… but big enough to notice…) “Do I kill it or let it live?”… try to kill it… it is too fast… lost it in the papers… no idea where it went… “Great”… Puts head back on the desk.

More texts. “Did you do what I asked?” No… feel like a shitty husband… the feeling will pass… Respond back. “I’m working”… Stares at the screen.

Instructions. Insert logo image. Insert links. Think of tags. Settle for what you already know. Schedule post. Put head back on the desk and think of something to say. Make something up if you have to.

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Sober writing is for people… who have something to say…

Let’s Keep This Party Going…

More music to shake your ass too… let’s get a little weird with this one… Same rules as last time… what comes up… comes up… : )

Queens of the Stone Age

This is about sex…. had no idea… because I’m Sick… Sick… Sick… Hack up a body and I’m like okay… talk about sex… and I’m like hold the phone… haha… yeah I’m very American… it sickens me… brings a tear… because I didn’t even grow up in America… That’s how deep these cuts lie… Crazy how much culture effects you each and every day… Oh… and I love this song…

Die Antwoord…

Speaking of… Zef all god damn day… So I don’t know if you know… but all this started and ends with music… That’s all I wanted to be… that’s what I failed at… writing is cool… I love it… but I settle for it… because the truth is… I want to be the greatest drummer of all time… that’s real… Music is my life… everything else is what it is… sadly I was born without any talent… I try… I dabble… I dream… but sadly Broken Thoughts is all I be… life if you ask me… but If I was who I wanted to be?… Fuck… I’d be the Zef American filling your head with sick ass beats… point is we all fail… embrace what is left… Broken Thoughts and all..

True Loves

This one… I find out who they were after I saw a Modest Mouse concert… (My favorite band…) to be honest I am not familiar with them at all… but I like this song… I saw some of the members open for Mouse…. It wasn’t bad… better than I could do… but not for me… I liked this though…

Machine Gun Kelly

Haha… I hated this song… but… in the end I became hooked for dumb ass reasons… MGK... isn’t my kind of shit… but I shit you not… he looks like my brother in law… He is homeless but he chose that for himself… so don’t feel bad… I don’t… asshole is living better than most people… but I still had to be like is that him?… haha… because that’s the dice life would roll for him… American all day… throw up in my mouth… still doesn’t explain everything going on over here… Capitalism details so many things that I don’t understand… basically I got hooked on this song… that’s it…

Die Antwoord….

Full circle… I ran out of songs… My daughter requested this song… that’s how much they have taken over my life… even my daughter knows what is up… This song is crazy… and long… My daughter is dancing to this song right now… between tapping out the beat… Life is crazy here… best line… pick one… this song has many… I may not have been the greatest drummer… but there is still hope for her… pushing music on to her… like I am to you… I am a dad after all… : )

Well… I had fun… hopefully you did too… music is life…

By The Way… You’ve Been Invited…

Yet to Begin

Broken hearted, lost in thought, a dreamer
This world is not what I thought it was
Seeing through the mystery
Searching through the fog that surrounds me
Dark cloud, casted shadow, shallow grave
Three feet in and all ready to begin
Working my way deeper
The abyss was never staring back at me
Always surrounding me
The walls of my prison
The home I’ve always known
Where to escape when there is nowhere to go
Questioning your line of questioning
Scratching at the walls, tearing flesh from bone, hand of broken nails
Heard it all before
Stolen ideas taken as my own
Programmable program, humanity spreads like a virus
No longer do I want to be part of your hived mind bull shit
Fitting in is nothing I ever wanted
So why does it feel, feel as though I failed
When we all know I have yet to begin

Pressure Rising

The images play out in my head
A vision of something better
This could all be
So much better
This could all be
So much more
Ignorance inherit
Value stupidity
Gave up so I could let you in
Hate myself but I blame them
This could all be
So much better
This could be
So much more
My thoughts inherit
Value selfishness
Allergic reaction to everything you are
A nightly ritual passed down
This could all be
So much better
This could all be
So much more
Harder on myself than I could ever be on you
A confession of honesty
I miss the days where I could say
These things to your face
Lonely and it’s crazy
Because this could all be
So much better
This could always have been
So much more

A return to poems… I have been saving a lot of them for submissions… hints the over abundance of Broken Thoughts… though to be fair to myself… I have a lot more Broken Thoughts… Than poems… These two were actually written last year… Last summer… Yeah I sat them for a minute… I decided to group these two together because they have an off kilter approach to the idea presented… basically they start off as one thing and end as another… pretty much where I was last year…

Were they my best ever?… probably not… at least I hope not… no matter how great something is… I want to get better… I think that is important to every day life… I accept compliments very poorly… because I want to be better… negativity hurts… feels like shit honestly… but they have always driven me to want more… hit too many times with a shovel?… maybe… or maybe it is just human nature… no one vividly remembers the time they one that award… or got that A… but you remember that time some asshole told you would be nothing… getting that F… the fear of explaining your failure to someone else…

Of course I do too… and there is only so much abuse that we can take… but if anything was “special” about me… and we are stressing special beyond its meaning here… is my ability to take all the shit thrown at me and use it to fire up my engines… yeah I’m a machine in this scenario… an old ass model… but it still works the same for the most part… haha… anyway what I mean is… people are going to give you shit… you will fail… but embrace it… fear it… but know that it is the only way to get better… don’t let it get you down… if you really want it… then it is all worth fighting for…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

When There’s No More Room… Part 7…

I noticed the way she looks at me again today. The look of a blank stare, but it is not a blank stare. It is as if she is trying to tell me something that words could never really say. I see it in her eyes. Those cold green eyes. They appear almost gray as though something is hidden in them. Ten years I have stared into these eyes. Ten years I have study this girls eyes. I have watched as she has gone from child to woman and it is as though nothing has ever changed. Ten years of failure. Ten years of silence. I’ve run every test possible. Everything in the book just to hear her speak. Electroshock therapy, two electrodes attached to her head and enough electricity to shock anyone awake. Not a god damn peep. If it wasn’t for her pulse and her eyes I would rule her dead. I fought tooth and nail to keep her after she turned eighteen. The state told me she had served her time. I argued that she still needs to server more, but like this? Was it worth it?

Her crimes though not as extensive as the others leave a lot to the imagine nation as to why. Why a child would commit such a crime? A silent hour every week for ten years and I am not any closer to finding out the answer. Her eyes dance as if she is trying to tell me something. Maybe it is a neurological condition? No, I’ve tested that and came up with nothing. She chooses not to say anything at all. Ten years and I have never heard her voice. Witness, the neighbors claim to have heard her scream awakening them from a dead sleep. A scream like a siren only to stop. Replaced with silence. Imagine my jealousy to these complete strangers. Her eyes tease me like a loaded gun. Her eyes so innocent, so green, could they really have comprehended what she had done? Could anyone?

Could anyone understand fully the act of killing their parents? Witness testified that she was often beaten. Appeared to have bruises, black eyes, cuts all over her body. Never enough to raise alarm, but enough to noticed. The scars though faint are still there. What all her parents have done is lost in her eyes, but what she did has been well documented. The simplest of them all murder. The more complex. The ones I want to know, to understand? Hidden behind those eyes. How does a child carefully remove the skin of a person? Let alone their own parents? I know surgeons.  Doctors paid to be precise every day and every time. Even they do not understand how a child could be so methodic. A pile of skin laid on the floor as she began the real work she had set out to do. As one police officer stated in their report, “The organs were laid out. Laid out on display like we had to do in basic training for our rifles. Laid there ready to be put back in if need be.”

No, a child could not understand what they have done? Or could they? The answers sit before me waiting to be discovered. No evil in sight only a blank stare. Yet she sits before me. A child capable of tearing apart her whole family. A child who shaped the bones of her parents to that of some kind of monster. A child who took the skin of her mother from the floor and wore it like a costume until the police arrived. What kind of evil truly lives behind those green eyes?  

Sorry for the late post… internet has been down… the real horror of this story if you ask me… up an running… hopefully I won’t be late on the next one…

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