Post Script of the Unimaginative

I’m torn between what I have become and what I want. A lazy layabout who only dreams of becoming something rather than doing anything about it. I’m so lost in this pragmatic world of no sleep isolation of the world. I think ways of getting myself out of this hell I have created, but there is no way out.  There is no green grass on the other side only more sacrifice that I am no longer willing or able to fight for. If I could I would do nothing and I already am. Yet day after day visions and thoughts of doing better bounce in and out of my head. I’m trapped in this depression called life though I am not truly sad. There is nothing wrong with me I just can’t seem to leave this place.

This constant war between sleep and no sleep has left me feeling devastated. It has left me feeling as though I am searching for something. As if I am missing a huge part of this life. In essence, I’m sure that I am not. I am actually living life as it comes and goes one day at a time. This is life but dreamers got to dream. I dying soul has got to believe in more than this. Whether it is about what we have or what we want.

My mind is flooded with too many thoughts to actually concentrate on anything going on around me. To tell a story, to live a lie requires way too much effort at this time. I wish I could get away. Shed this sickness once and for all. Take some time for myself and worry about nothing at all. I think of these things as I stumble through life. Hope for a day it might happen, but I know me and I will never let this happen. I can’t let go. I can’t move on. My thoughts are locked into nothing at all.

I once wrote that my freedom is a six-foot ditch. My salvation lies in a grave that I dig, we dig every day. I’m at liberty to believe I have such gifts and insights to get me through all this crap. But I know deep down I’m full of more shit than anyone who chooses to stand next to me. Anyone I pass as I float through this life. A constant war with normalcy. A constant struggle to be something I’m not. I believe I am better than you because I am an asshole. Because I am human or at least I would like to believe that is my answer.

If I could change one thing it would take a lifetime to decide what that change would be. A lifetime wasted on something out of my control. I have been dealt the hand that I have been dealt and I must continue to live with what I got. These are the rules. This is the game. Easier said than actually done. Fuck this game and fuck this day. Maybe tomorrow I will feel different. Maybe all this bitching will seem dumb. But right here, right here at this moment, it all feels like a waste of time.

It all seems pointless. Why go on fighting if there is nothing to fight for? What am I struggling with? Money, fame? I want none of these things yet I can’t stop thinking about how my life would never be the same. Fuck the money and fuck the fame. I just want the freedom that comes with this grave. This home I have built for myself. A drawn out thought that has left me here all along.

 

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Selling my soul one t-shirt at a time… click here to join in on the sacrifice… we also have totes… because why not… 

We have books as well… Drinking Bleach, A Lie, and And Other Things From This Time… Now available… please leave a review… someone reads them… I only like the bad ones.. they make me smile… or feel something inside… unsure what they do to my lifeless corpse… 

 

And Other Things From This Time Preview

Felt No More

I gave up, then gave in
Still, you’re unhappy with what
We’ve become
I gave you everything
Only to end this with nothing
Yet I’m the asshole
What it means to be a man
I’m the one who should wear
The villainous mask because it fits
I’m sorry I guess
For what I don’t know
Maybe by now, I should
But I held on too long to nothing
To really know at this point
Tomorrow is a new day
And I’m sure you will find a way to ruin it for me
Love is nothing more than emotion
I wish I had never felt before

Because No One Said Don’t

I don’t even know why I bother
The answer is clearly already there
If this were a poker game
I’d had lost three hands ago
Even if you don’t count the anti
I’m down about three lifetimes
Can I get your number must be on par
With selling your soul to the devil
Well I guess I’m here to collect
But you don’t seem so sure I even exist
Quietly though I’ll only seem creepier
Over time
Times up and here I sit wondering
What you are up to
Its late so I guess I’ll never know
There’s a sign that says welcome to reality
But I’ve only chosen to be literate at this point
The ants and the bugs seem to think I’m weird too
So it’s not just you or the crowd
Your boyfriend is way stronger than his five foot frame
Would suggest
The laughing feels better with swallowed teeth
In the end, I was lost so you’re welcome
To tell me that all along I was wrong
How was I supposed to know
Your short skirt meant you weren’t single
Appearances are deceiving unless of course
It’s tattooed on your skin
Tomorrows a new day but I think I am just fine right here

Fucking relationships… now before everyone is like I thought you were married… why are you asking for numbers?… Because No One Said Don’t… is partially about a friend from that time… I feel for anyone who is single or searching for someone… I had this friend… great guy… but he was desperate… and you could smell his desperation from around the corner… he would constantly ask how I found my wife… wanted advice on how to find someone… etc… we all know this person or are this person… no need to cut fresh wounds… but the truth for me… is dumb fucking lucky… I’ve been married for eight years and together for fourteen years… not bragging… but all I’ve been trying to do since day one is not fuck this up… has everything been perfect?… fuck no… A Lie wasn’t written through a lovely time in my life… though that book is fiction… we all know there is truth in fiction… 

There are always ups and downs… relationships aren’t based on movies or perfection… shit at times they aren’t even based on love… I love my wife but there are times I hate that lady… that’s the truth… but I would rather walk down a road of razor blades then be without her in my life… Same for my daughter… there are times that she drives me beyond insane… she has tested my patience more than anyone on planet Earth… but every time she skips a breath I feel as though I am seconds from death… 

If I had advice on relationships stop looking for the perfect partner and try looking for the perfect friend… I get human nature we want to fuck… but stop and think can I stand this person when I can’t?… If I couldn’t would I still care?… my wife is sexy as fuck but I’m not in love with her body… I’m in love with her… Relationships are work… that doesn’t mean you have to force anything to make it happen… there isn’t a checklist… a certain path… and remember compromise isn’t settling… never settle… someone is always going to be them and that is them… you accept them or you don’t… and there is nothing wrong with that… we all have friends that we had as children that are strangers now… we all grow… the key is finding someone you can grow with… that and dumb fucking luck… 

I’m not saying that a shirt from Threadless will help you find true love or a friend… but who is to say that it won’t?… At the very least it might get you noticed… Books are available as well over at Amazon… These will not help you find love but they will help pass the time while you look… Remember being you is all that you can do… 

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5 Words I Like and One I Hate… Faggot

Vicarious, kaleidoscope, duality, but, and nihilism. Well, that was easy and now for the one, I don’t.

No one can remember the very first time they hear a word. I thought I did and I was wrong. This was intended to be a one part story, but it quickly turned into a two-part story. One I will have to tell in reverse.  As I was saying no one knows the first time they hear a word, but they can remember when the first time a word impacted them. Faggot is one of those words. The first time I heard it. The first time I felt its impact. I was walking home from school.

I was in the 6th grade so maybe all of twelve or possibly going on thirteen. There I was minding my own business walking home on the side of the road. At the time I lived in this tiny town in Illinois. A farming town not far from St Louis. This has nothing to do with anything. I’m just setting the location of the incident. Don’t be fooled ignorance can be found anywhere on this planet. Walking through the grass on the side of the road when a car of teenagers drove by. One of the assholes screams faggot at the top of their lungs.

The sound of his voice was enough to lock this memory in my brain for a lifetime. At the time I didn’t even know what the word meant. What he meant by it. But I didn’t need to. The word itself was enough for me to know it meant something awful. So vulgar in its delivery. Slammed into my face as though it had anything to do with who I was or what I was doing. I didn’t need to know that it had anything to do with being gay. I didn’t need to know that word’s meaning to know that I never wanted to use it.

Being young, being scared, being confused by this strange and awful word I began to cry. I ran the rest of the way home with tears down my face. My mom recognized something was wrong as soon as I entered the house. She went into to full-on mother mode. “What happened? Are you okay? Who do I need to kill?” It took a moment for me to get it out.  I didn’t want to say it let alone hear it again.

“Some kids in a car called me faggot.”
“Well, are you?”
“No.”
“Then it doesn’t matter. Words don’t have meaning unless you give them one. So some assholes called you a faggot. They are assholes. You gave them the power to let them hurt you. All they were trying to do was hurt you and you let them. People are going to say horrible things. They might even say them about me. Doesn’t matter unless you let it matter.”
I stopped crying.

That’s the thing about words. They don’t really mean anything. Placeholders for a feeling, a thought to cut like a knife. But no one said you had to let them cut you. I carry that message with me every time someone tries to stab me with their vulgar, easy exit words. I hear their bullshit attempts to piss me off and I laugh. I’m the biggest faggot on planet earth. What else you got?

Part 2

Words have a way of haunting you even when you think that they don’t. I said and I thought the first time I heard the word faggot was when those kids drove by. Maybe that was the first time I thought it impacted me as a person, but during the writing, I realized it wasn’t. I thought about just forgetting the whole thing. Thought about pushing it back down like I had for most of my life, but why should I?

Digging deep into the back of my mind. The first time that the word took something away from me was when I was a child. No idea what age I was. I could ask my mom, but we don’t talk about that time of our lives. It was during the reign of my mom’s second husband. The dark times of my life. The times I try to forget, but the memories always come back up. Stories for another time possibly.

As a child, I was really into gymnastics. No idea why, but I was. Maybe I saw it on the Olympics or something. My mom signed me up for classes and away I went. Every Thursday I got to learn something new for my new passion in life. Until one Thursday my mom couldn’t drop me off for my class. So my stepfather had to. Had to take some precious time out of his busy schedule of being an asshole to drop me off. Looking back after all the shit he put us through it doesn’t surprise me what he said when he picked me up and an hour later. “Did the little faggot enjoy his gymnastic class?”

I cried. He hit me like he always did. “Toughen up.” I don’t remember much after that. I know that I didn’t go to any more classes. I know that my mom always wondered why I lost interest in it and I’m sure I wondered, just like I do today, why I didn’t say anything.

 

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If you see something… say something… If something is happening… say something… I know the hardest thing we can do in this world is ask for help… I’ve lived through it myself… My mom got it the worst… I don’t blame her for what happened during that period.. but I do wish she had asked sooner… No one deserves to be abused verbally or physically… it is not normal and it is not okay…

Get Help 

Broken Thoughts

Locked inside my head with nothing to say
The bugs dance beside my lifeless corpse
Pulling bits of paper from my soul
More scraps to add to the shit pile
How long can I drag this feeling out?
A lifetime surrounded by borrowed time
The darkness sinks its dirty fangs into my neck
Reminding me I’ve always been this way
A denial twist loaded with truth
The ashes pile up as each breath takes my life
Digging my own grave with a smile

See you when I get there
See you later if you’re lucky
Can’t take what  you don’t own
If your soul is for sale
I guess you won’t be taking that either
She won’t stop saying things that she doesn’t believe in
Spreading lies fortified in her head
A lost day filled with silence and loathing
Taking out my frustrations on an empty soul
Taking in everything I think I deserve
Time has a way of taking everything
Not sure any of this is even real anymore
An isolation covers my walls
A desperation fills my heart
A broken thought is all I know
Poisoning the well
Inhaling the disgust
How I wish
How I hope
That you are well
A lie that I believe in
A faith that can discuss
And all of this
Everything last thing
Is all that I know
A slow death without any pain
A choking feeling and no regrets
And they told me I was fine
Nailing myself to the cross
Bringing myself to my knees
How I wish
How I hope
That you are well
A truth that I don’t believe in
A rationalization locked in your head
And all of this
Is only how it feels

Encase you were wondering I’m having a great day… Life keeps piling on the bull shit… but I just keep smiling… because who really gives a fuck?… immature… at times we all are… I have no faith in anything… but they say that the Lord gives us as much as we can handle… If he could stop… that would be awesome… if she doesn’t that’s cool too… Take each day for what it is worth… 

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We sell our souls at these fine establishments… Threadless and Amazon…  I need to get some fancy buttons like Fears has got… check it out…  Also, check out Likely Red Press Support Independent Press… well just read… reading is important… but I hope if you got this far… you already know that… A book a day… brings the crazies closer to the frame… 

Post Script of the Unimaginative

Oh, god. Here comes that fucking cat again. Charcoal, they call the cat Charcoal. His is gray and actually a female, but she looks like one of those cats on the bags of cat food we sell. She looks so much like these cats that I have now included her in my theory that I am the sole living being on this earth.  That in some way I have created everything around me. By happenstance, everything in the back of my mind subliminally or directly is being created by me.

“I have these thoughts off and on. I have this crazy thought so often that it almost seems normal at this point. This thought that I am god and the “real world” is nothing more than the way I want it to be. As if I create war and famine on the other side of the world just to have shit to talk about. I could rationalize the same about rules. It is interesting to note that  I have never been pulled over, arrested, or even had jury duty for that matter. I have also never won any major prize, event, or contest either. I have only been seriously ill once and beyond that have had no real brushes with death. All of these facts shouldn’t lead me to believe that I am so special, but they have. They drive me to a point to believe that I am a god like being.

I’m not saying I am God, but maybe the son of such a being or perhaps I am only in a deep coma. One long dream where by happenstance I have become a god like being. Of course, I have tested my so-called theory to no avail. I have wished to win the lottery, dreamed about it, and even thought maybe it would suck to take on such a burden. Nothing, of course, came about this. Sadly though no pay off to my wishes and prayers doesn’t disprove my theory about the world around me. The only true way to disprove my theory is to die which now begins the true crazy.

If I was to die if I could die it would prove that I am not what I believe to be. It would also end this journey. A place I’m not ready to visit just yet. In the meantime, I shall keep on going with my every day boring life and keep formulating my hypothesis until the time I see fit to test it. But honestly, if you were a God what would you end up doing day to day?” Charcoal lets out a large yawn as she works her way to my lap. Taking a long drag from my cigarette, “Yeah, I would want to do the same thing.”

 

This is what happens when you don’t sleep… show up two hours early to work every day to get some writing done… and a stray cat becomes your only friend… I did this for about a year… Things change but always feel the same… I never actually talked to Charcoal… I’d feed her the cat food with her face on it and when she was done she would sit on my lap from time to time… it bothered me so much… I allowed it out of kindness… while cringing at every moment… was she covered in fleas or disease?… shivering at the thought even now… then one day it rained and it rained hard… one of those good old-fashioned Texas rains… I didn’t see her for a couple of days after that… I pretended not to care… pretended it was for the best that this dirty cat was no longer coming around to join in my sadness… my pain… my loneliness… time went on and as it did this horrible smell came from nowhere over by where I used to sit and write… over by the water runoff… a pipe just big enough for a cat to seek shelter in the rain… through the storm… took so long for that smell to go away…  I stopped feeding strays after that…

 

 

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Merch

A Lie Preview

I Want You to Realize What You Do

I feel as if I’ve seen this before. I feel as if I’ll hear this once more. Like a cold draft coming in, I’m blown out the door. My allergies take me places I’ve been before. Like the hallway and out the door. I think I wanted to just feel the norm of society and everyone before. Jumping up and down. Nowhere to go. Pushing from side to side. Nowhere to go. If this is my last life I wish there was more. If I had a choice I’d have wanted more. Well, when you look back do you see the fun? Or the hard work it took to win? By the end of life, I won’t remember what was what like a baby to the womb or an old man to his tomb. People keep asking me, “Where are you from?” People keep wondering where you’re from as if it matters because we’re all going to the same place. In the ground and back to the sun. Life keeps circling in a cycle that was spun a long time ago before we knew it was done. Jumping out of my skin. Fate has already begun to win. My minds going with my body and I’m stuck here with nowhere to go. My life’s gone way out of my control. I follow the lines as if I was told what to do, what to say, and in its own way my thoughts are not my own, but the people before me. My own self-loathing is a learned behavior. My society is large, but with many layers. People just make me want to jump, falling down hard my body rolls taking the hard way down into the ground.

Class sucked today and she still hasn’t texted me back. She’s a fucking whore. Fuck her. These drugs are fucking shit. Mother fucker sold me the wrong shit and of course, I have no choice but to keep using them because I have nothing else. Fuck off.

 

We’ve all been there… hopefully you haven’t personally… I know I am every other day… not the drugs… but at this point, I’m starting to think maybe I should be… just kidding kids… “Drugs are bad… Alcohol is bad”… venting your frustration through writing is the best way to clear your head… get that shit out before it gets out in negative ways… because as sure as you believe it won’t… it very much fucking will… take care of yourself and it will pay off… take a fucking moment and write that shit down… no idea why I am cussing so much… haha… 

I’d vent my frustration on a shirt… but who the fuck has the time to read that shit?… that’s why I put it in book form… for when you have the time… Don’t forget to drop a review… I might even read them… when I’m done venting my frustration…  

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Turn Out the Light

I begin my day by waking up like most of humanity, but in a hint of irony, I don’t think that I ever truly wake up. My first thoughts are to find some drugs, but I failed to get more last night or save any for this morning. So now I am beyond hopeless. I light up a cigarette and take a couple of drags before stumbling my way to the bathroom to piss. There is a huge bruise on my left inner thigh and I can’t recall how in the world I got it, but now that I know I have it my leg begins to hurt. I move to the kitchen and open the frig door more out of habit than anything else considering I already know that there isn’t anything inside it anyways. More thoughts creep into my head and this is why I should have saved at least one more hit. My second real thought of the day is that I have to work later. I already know hours in advance that I will be thirty minutes late, but I also know that they won’t say anything. In some sick sad way, they feel sorry for me or they act like they know something I don’t. Either way, this pisses me off beyond belief. I don’t say anything because I need the money now more than ever. I close the frig door and start to get ready for work. It’s not a long process so, I’m out the door before I even realize it. I send her a text that I know she will never respond to. I send her a text that says, “I love you and I miss you”, but it was a waste of twenty seconds. I start my car up and pull out of the parking space. I stop by the dealer’s house before heading to work. I barely had enough money to get what I will need for the next few days of my miserable life. I need to conserve as much as I can before I get paid again or things just might get worse. I laugh at the thought but it is more real than I can even comprehend right now. The drug dealer sends his best and this pisses me off. I could barely stop from doing a hit right on his front porch but I make it to the car. I head to work and today is already a waste.

Sixteen and fucking stupid. Sixteen year old girls pretending to be so stupid and dizzy about the dumbest things. As if a five-year old doesn’t understand how much something costs. How hard does one person have to be dropped on their head to not understand the concept of money in America? Yet this woman standing in front of me isn’t sixteen, though she acts like it, hell I don’t think she is even in her twenties anymore and if she is she looks fucking rough. Her and her rather large but not for this area boyfriend, who decided today wasn’t a good day to wear sleeves, stand in front of my register. There is a horrible smell coming from somewhere, but I’m not sure where. They have decided to purchase some beer, her pleasure condoms, and this week’s special two regular sized candy bars at the value price of a dollar. The slightly overweight woman who really doesn’t need one more candy bar asks me, “If the tag says two for a dollar does that mean I have to get two candy bars to get the sale price?” My mind flashes to the many possible answers I want to say to her stupid question like do you really need two or are you fucking retarded? Because if you are retarded that is fine, but if you’re just pretending, that’s fucking sad. I calmly tell the woman you can still get the sale price if you purchase just one as I hide my twitching hand from her view. And just so there is no confusion I tell her that they are fifty cents apiece. She gives me a look that makes me wonder maybe this isn’t an act. She really is slow in the head. She decides the best way to go is to get two. “They’re only a dollar,” she says with a giggle. Her next words will haunt me for as long as I live. “You got this don’t you Big Daddy?” I want to vomit all over her, and for the first time tonight it isn’t from the drugs. The man, known only as “Big Daddy,” steps up to the counter and reveals just exactly where the horrible smell in the air has been coming from. He is wearing a sleeveless shirt that says, “Taken Care of Businesses,” on it. His sleeveless arms are quite hairy and sweaty despite the fact that it can’t be more than forty degrees outside. His hairy arms release an odor so wretched that the smell is burning my raw nostrils. I have resorted to breathing through my mouth, as little as I possibly can. The sooner they leave the sooner I can breathe. I can feel my face getting redder as my blood starts to accumulate in my face making it feel even hotter in the room than it already is. I feel as though I am trapped under water. The couple begins to speak. I think they are telling a joke, but all I can hear is my heartbeat pounding in my head, not the words coming out of their mouths. I don’t understand why they keep talking when I’m not saying anything back. I don’t understand what is going on. They are laughing and smiling, and the smell is somehow getting worse. It hurts, but I pretend to laugh anyways with them. I must pretend to be normal and that everything is okay. I must appear normal I chant to myself as my hand is still twitching and my leg has joined in. My mantra of normal is really starting to fuck me up. What is normal at a time like this? I hand the change to “Big Daddy” and the woman steps even closer to the counter, close to my face, closer than anyone should ever be, and she looks me right in the eyes. She says, “The secret is to have lots of sex.” I swallow the vomit that has found its way into my mouth and force a smile. I have no idea why she is telling me this, but I am grateful that they at least bought condoms. Now if they understand how to use them is a whole other question. My guess is that reading is difficult at their level of intelligence so probably not. It is another sad day on planet earth.

Orginally posted in A Lie…