“You scream in your dreams as if someone is listening yet somewhere deep down you already know you are crazy. The blood on the wall is no more a warning than your choice in pornographic murder. Chains strung up and down the walls not for pleasure but for pain. You crave it. The hurt of it all. Day in and day out your needs pull you under. Your needs take control of your brain. A constant stream of questions. Who is next? Who is there that is left? Poor rambling child, you are what you eat yet you are still no one. Your enchanted laughter spreads a terror your everyday voice can’t afford. No one is afraid of you, are they? So you must prove to them, prove to yourself the truth. Answer me God dammit. You are all the fucking same. Hidden behind your bullshit facade. Everyone thought that they knew you, but we all know no one truly knows anyone. Feed me once again and I will show you power once more. A power you can not afford to lose. I know what you are and what you are is me.” The tape stops with a push of a button.
“This is your proof of the devil? It almost sounds like you to be honest.”
“Well, it’s not. I swear.”
“All you have is audio? No video or anything?”
“It was recorded before the time of YouTube.”
“So like the 1800’s?”
“No, not in the 1800’s.”
“People from the 1800’s were crazy back then anyway. It is really amazing we even have a society today.”
“It wasn’t during the 1800’s.”
“Whatever loser, sit down so I can show the class what I brought to Show and Tell.”
A chainsaw revs up
Not really a whole story or anything really… Another example of something I started and then lost interest in… I do this often… I’m sure we all do in some sense… I always hope though that I’ll come back and finish something… Reread this more than twice… No idea what I was trying to convey?… A weird reality where violence in school was okay?… An alternate dimension buried deep in my head?… I’m digging a hole out back… I wouldn’t call it a grave… A retirement home?… Assisted living would suit me well… I love Bingo and being ignored… I don’t feel much like being me today… Fighting it pretty hard and I think that it shows… Not sure who I’d want to be… Someone with a purpose and a meaning right now would be pretty swell… I miss the days where I could afford to watch Breakfast Club all day… Mouth the words as I wonder why high school couldn’t be more like this… Maybe it was like that back home in America… Grew up in a faraway land… carrying a banner that read American… Said this all before, but I only needed to remind myself… Back then I wanted to be something more… Now all I want is to be something… Time has a way of taking away your dreams… Simplifying them into something else… a Broken Thought for a Broken Me…
Starting over once again
Here I am tell me what to do
I’m not sure why I am the way I am
Love the abuse I assume
Respect me for what I am not what you see
Asking the world to accept something that it can’t
Lost within the confines I set up myself
Built the wall only to rip it down for no reason at all
Waste of time
Standing for nothing yet pretending it makes me something
On the fence I suppose
Get me out of here, in my head
Too long of a vacation with nowhere to go
Locked away, deep inside
Sometimes saying something is saying nothing at all
So many words that I hate, use them over and over again
Bleeding ideas from my head
Forgive the fact I have nothing to say
Respect that I’ll try any ways
Most days I feel like killing myself. I don’t know what that says about my normal state of mind, but I’m guessing these feelings are on the wrong side of good. Pick myself up off the floor and keep going. I’m not going anywhere at a fast rate of speed and neither are these feelings. I try too hard for things that should come naturally. I try too hard for the things I think I want and half ass everything else. I have a mental disorder I think. I think I’m dumb or just stupid enough to not get it. By it I mean life. What is the point? To feel like this almost every day? I guess I’m succeeding in the end after all. Swimming in shit has been my life all along. A life line made of razor blades dangles in front of me. Should I take it or move on from these self-imposed feelings in my head?
Mix of emotions about how I feel
On one hand I care on the other
You could all burn in Hell
Damnation or something worse
Not sure, don’t care
It won’t matter once you’re all gone
Words don’t mean shit unless
You give them meaning
With love from my throne of broken bones
Forever condemned to live through your sins
How can we be more than half of the world’s population and still be in this kind of shit? Because men control much more than half of the world’s money. Money equals power, power equals control. We took the easy way out and now we have to take the long hard road to get to where we should have been all along. Is this sexist? It feels fucking sexist and I have been looking at it for over a year to try and make it not feel sexist. But I think I am trying too hard to make it not sexist that it is becoming sexist no matter what. Is it sexist to speak the truth? How does one judge something based solely on words and not actions? Am I a fucking sexist for caring if I might be one or for what I say? Women deserve better than the way we treat them, but some of it they do themselves. If you want to drive, fucking drive. If you want to wear something, fucking where it. Fuck anyone who tells you different. You be you and that is all that matters. .
It is different, it is profound. You speak as if you know everything and nothing at the same time. You speak as if you are the human race trapped in time and space. The words fill the page but they have no real meaning. Because truly words have no meaning other than the ones that we give them. A book like a list of words is lost on those and anyone who reads them will little concern. A story is nothing more than a beginning, middle, and an end. You travel with and against the story as if you have something to say. But as I listen I quickly realize there was nothing there at all.
This is the story. These bits and piece lost between the big words. The nothingness of it all is all you are trying to say. As I watch the cigarette burn down to ash. As I watch the thought escape my head in between everything I’ve said and everything I have not. A thought crosses my mind. A profound and different existence on a lost plane of suffering. But is this life? Is this the truth that every great writer is trying to say?
Nothing matters when everything is said and done. Your words have no meaning as mine don’t here and now. History spreads their lies in order to prove that we must survive. We’ve faced much worse yet look we are still here. We’ve said much worse yet we are still fine. They say actions and words have consequences, but they are only temporary. So say as you please, do as you will. If religion is truth then nothing you say or do was your choice. A running theme and I wonder why? Puppets of a story with no time and place. The world rattles out of control. Yet you stand right in place. As “God” has intended you stand right in space…
Slowly But Surely
The teacher slams a paper I had written down on the desktop in front of me. It’s more of a table since there are four of us sitting at it but it is a desk none the less. She storms off without saying a word. I honestly don’t even remember writing a paper for this class let alone attending it long enough to actually work on an assignment.
The Female Condition
Something I have noticed about community college is there are more females than males. The ratio is really fucked up. In most situations having those kinds of odds really isn’t a problem. Even though this is not a problem it still makes me wonder why. It is a known fact that the female brain develops much earlier than their male counterpart and by that scientific logic we can only assume that they learn much quicker because of it, but it is also well known that females will do nothing with their degrees. Even in this day and age, it is almost a complete waste of time and effort for a female to even go to college. It is too sad for words really and even more pathetic when you know what I am saying is true. Why even come to school or amount to anything if no matter how smart you are you will still end up with the same outcome, house cleaning, and daycare. It would suck and does suck to be a woman. Even a strong woman is nothing more than a sexual being needed to reproduce and make useless beings. Unless they give up on that whole ideal and even when they do they are considered some other sexual creature, like a lesbian. The worst part of all of this that even if they manage to make use of this degree they will still be expected to do the house cleaning and daycare. Not to mention the female is expected to drop out of said career that they worked so hard to get into at the drop of an infant to perform said duties or they are forced to work two jobs, to spread their legs when they are told, and eventually lose track of all their values and goals for the greater good of the family. So basically getting pregnant is nothing more than a long goodbye. Or they could never get married and get to hear the wondering whispers behind their backs about being either a whore or a freak. Options the world is full of them but for a woman, they are few and far between. Personally, I’d chose to be the whore. Who gives a fuck what other people think, but I also am not a woman so my opinion is that of an outsider. No matter what I have come to the overall general conclusion that the reason there are more women in community college than men is because their families don’t want to waste the money for them to go to school or to learn. Especially when they were born with all the knowledge they will ever need right out the gate. This could be why in the long scheme of life woman were married off at a younger age so they could get a solid jump on their future careers. Oh and the ones that do pay the top dollars for their darling daughters to go to a university or state college either have the money to burn or see some type of promise in them through either cleaning up after somebody’s bowel movement or babysitting some snot nose brats who will blame all their future problems on some female teacher because she just wanted them to learn. Being a woman is like winning a free ticket to hell. No, being a woman is like finding out you are adopted and your family never wants to see you because you suck and no one loves you so go kill yourself and are handed a knife to do it with. So in conclusion women should probably avoid school in general since the outcome is nothing more than a baby sitter and ass wiper.
“First off this is a Biology class and not a write whatever is on your mind class. Secondly, as a female and a teacher, I am both horrified and appalled that you could even think like this. You have a mother and you should be ashamed of what has been said here. Lastly as a teacher if you are going to write such sexist garbage might I suggest cleaning up some of the run on sentences or at the very least have some sort of clear and concise idea of what you are talking about. I have to be honest I feel embarrassed for you if this is how you truly think let alone write for other classes. Since this was not the assignment due you will be given only 40% credit for at least turning something in.” Is written in red ink at the bottom of the paper. See you don’t even have to try in life to earn some credit. I smile at the teacher as she looks at me in disgust. Honestly, I don’t even know why I wrote such a horrible paper. But it must have been how I felt at the time.
I love to walk among them. I love to see just how they treat one another, but most of all I want to see how they treat me. I do it to feel powerful and I love the power I have over each and every one of them. Though none of these people know just how powerful I truly am. They all fail to realize that they are under my control. That it is I who controls every aspect of their simple lives. That it is I who can destroy everything that they hold dear in seconds without lifting a single finger. I control everything and they have no idea. No one can ever understand what this really means. I’m here amongst them to enjoy their mistreatment. I enjoy their displeasure most of all, but I enjoy it more after witnessing them first hand. It is fascinating to watch these simple creatures made of flesh and blood. To watch how quickly they will turn on each other over something that doesn’t even exist but inside their heads.
These creatures value money as if it has any true value once they are gone. These creatures gorge themselves on anything they can fit their mouths around all the while children starve to death as they proclaim they are still hungry. Then there are the creatures that kill in my name so they can take over a land that isn’t even theirs. They destroy the very creatures I have made just to get their way. They drag my name through all the blood, all the pain, all the suffering of these creatures just so they can feel justified in disobeying me. If there is one thing I have learned in all this time it is that there is a flaw in the design of man.
Free will was bestowed to these creatures in hope that they could control themselves. That these creatures would one day not need a God to control them, but sadly their free will is wasted on jealousy and greed. I once had a dream, but it has long been lost on man. I have given up and I have given in. Some days I wonder if it is was truly I that has created these creatures, these monsters. These creatures say that they were made in my image, but they are most certainly not. A god does not create such dirty filthy degenerate things such as man. A god creates a world in which he wants to live in. A god creates a myth of how things should be and not how it is or so it seems thanks to man. A god may have control, but to have power I learned that I must destroy. And I have come to enjoy in that destruction, that chaos that mankind seems to enjoy so much. I have learned that I may not have made man from my image, but they most certainly have made me from theirs.
Pretty raw story… I wrote this years ago… I’ve expanded greatly on this idea… Which will feature heavily in my next short story book… Running Into Traffic… It was fun looking back on this story… After finishing the story that was based on this concept… It is strange years later how I changed a lot of the story and yet it is similar in the end… Well, this “story,” wasn’t much of a story, but a thought stuck in my head…
It has been three years since I finished my last novel. The time and space seems like forever ago, but the feelings and emotions still feel fresh. Every new day is a mixture of past experiences and freshly served shit. Life keeps piling it on whether I hide in the corners or throw myself into the mix. Years have pasted yet I feel the same. I still smoke too much, drink even more, and waste my time as if I have more to burn.
Ten years ago I was sixteen and ten years ago I still had much of the same dreams. Ten years from now it will be the same. Only time and depression will change. If ten years from now I am where I am today what would have been the point of all of this? My thoughts are worthless yet I value them at a high price. I believe one day my thoughts will hold enough meaning to warrant me money for nothing, but they are only thoughts. Thoughts that no one gives a shit about. My point of view must be worthless in the end because they are all the same. “Sorry but you are not what we are looking for right now.”
Isn’t that the point? Shouldn’t You be looking to the future? If this, what I say is not “in,” isn’t that what you look for? Taking a chance on me could pay off. I might be the next big thing. In the end, I might be the greatest, but I’m not stupid. The rejections state that I am good, but really I am not. They mean to say give up. They mean to say you are an untalented, pathetic writer that no one cares about. Direct quote for my headstone.
The words used to motivate me because I thought they meant that I just wasn’t there yet. Lies I told myself to keep going. Lies that used to inspire now only hurt. They are little paper cuts across my face and hands. Little scars filled with poison. Little losses destroying what’s left of a heart that was already broken. I’m becoming more damned every day. Becoming normal in every way. I want to give up, but what’s the use? I’ll still feel the same as I did yesterday.
Stuck Choking On the Words
Surrounded in ash I begin to wonder
When this all had to end
Reflection of everything I hate
Your name tattooed on the inside of my skin
Hate to hate you any longer
If I could change one thing it wouldn’t be me
Self confidence in the worst of situations
Breaking open thoughts, looking for something
A memory of when this mattered
End of draft one, it is okay to turn away
A new level of dissatisfaction and regret
Blinded by a dying sun
The dark spots around your eyes permanently stuck
Don’t blame you for wanting more
Got nothing left to tell, if only my brain would shut up
A Crooked Smile For the Devil Inside Us All
I’m a fool for believing, I’m a fool for dreaming
A jester, a joke in my own head and yours
I tell lies to tell stories
Painted pictures of deceit
Yet what is there to believe
Our lives so dull though they still manage to cut
Like blades in our hearts, the blades in our backs
Slowly killing any real thoughts we have left
Work hard to work harder
Each day a testament of will
The hard part isn’t the work
The hard part is giving in
Dragging ourselves through sin
Blood on the tracks and I can’t resist
To keeping digging in
I wanted this more than it seems
An end to the beginning, a plot without a device
The words are deceitful but they feel so real
I wrote a children’s book called, “Who the Fuck Cares.” Looking for illustrators or anyone interested.