You Draw Something

Everything has always been one big problem. One after another in an endless cycle. Everyone and everything about them has been a problem since the dawn of time. The words can’t escape my head fast enough. No one expects shit from me any ways. They all assume they can ride my ass to the promise land.

Loaded gun resting in my mouth I’m so done with that shit. I’m so sick of everything and everyone pushing me to do it. My misery means more to everyone else than it does for me. Push as hard as they like won’t do them any good. If I haven’t done it yet then I’m never going to do it.

Too fucking bitter, too fucking beat down to even bother. The world revolves around no one and it sure as fuck won’t stop because you do. I want so much more from this world than it could ever give to me. Living more lives inside my head than I can put ink to the page. I guess that’s how you know the safety is on.  Don’t want to die just enjoy the threat of it all.

Doesn’t make up for the bleeding asshole the world likes to provide. The nightly penetration gets old, but it also becomes familiar. Constantly on edge. Who the fuck knows what retarded ass shit they will come up with in the morning. What new bull shit policy they make up on the spot? Seems I enjoy the abuse. Really I’m only tired of starting over. Wasting away years of my life only to be like fuck it. Compliance with old age is the real killer.

The gun slips from my lips. What am I doing here? Must be how the mad man feels after pulling the trigger if they feel anything at all. Not feeling anything must feel nice. No one gets off that easy. Everyone has to suffer. Some more than other I guess.

Something Different

A Constant Ending with an Evolving Beginning

We sleep in a blanket made of darkness
A power will rise that will seem unstoppable
All things eventually fail
The idea was dead before we were ever born
Our history made of lies is catching up
The beliefs we believe have always been false
Told what to do and how to think
An iron curtain so thick no light could ever get through
Guns, God, and government the three G’s
Suffocating us into sleep
The problem isn’t the distraction but each and every one of us
A culture based on greed can’t breed good things
We profit from death yet are afraid to die
The catch 22 is in our advancement
Only problems never solutions
The great nation hasn’t won a war since world war two
Who is to blame when all these generations know nothing better
Peace is paved in bodies
Under God there can be no peace if everyone is wrong
Religion, money, and freedom has become the new evils
Redressed to seem as though this is untrue
There is no God in pain
There is no money in happiness
There is no freedom in death
Only another cause to keep fighting for
America will die and a new evil shall rise
This is how it always works, this is how it is

Into Reality

Lies, lies we tell ourselves to get by
Everyone is standing in their windows
Hoping to get noticed, but everyone is too busy
Ignoring the people in their shitty lives
A generation raised on hiding, despising
Falsified documents made to look like lives
Every ones opinion locked away in a data bank
What did you do today?
Nothing the same as always
Who wants to hear the truth, infliction
What you mean, the words get twisted
Infections, choose properly or be torn down
Shit upon, dragged around and forgotten
This is the world in which we live our lives

A Lie Preview

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Back in the U.S.S.R.

If I bashed my head into a wall every time someone tried to screw me over at work I would have been dead a long time ago. After yesterday I really don’t want to be here, but at least I have tomorrow off. Not that being at home is any better than being here. At least I am alone at home and can deal with my own personal demons by myself. My car wouldn’t start this morning so I had to get a ride from my mom, and she will be picking me up again when I get off. I hate getting rides from my mom. It makes me feel like a child plus it now means I have to stand outside in the freezing cold to smoke. It has to be at least twenty degrees out tonight, but it is probably not that cold. The sun didn’t come out today and it’s been at least two days since I have seen the sun. The clouds are a murky shade of gray and they remind me of a famous painting. I can’t think of the painting or what it is called, but the sky looks as if it is sick and its gloomy colors spread across the town. I haven’t done much today at work, mostly because when it looks like this no one wants to come out of their houses. I’m sure it will snow again today if it is really as cold as it feels, and add another inch or two to the piles of snow that still remain. The snow has been slowly melting for weeks creating a slush of dirt and disgust. Discarded and hidden trash has started to emerge all around the sides of the streets and in everyone’s yards. It won’t be long until all the snow is gone and the town will look like a war torn garbage dump for a few weeks. When the snow melts and the truth comes out is when Jamestown shows its true colors. There is no more hiding behind walls of snow, no more buried lies as the run down houses become more visible and the yards their usual over grown selves. I still have ten more minutes on my break, but it’s too cold to stand out here and do nothing.

An hour after I get back from break the boy only known as Bobby came into the store to meet me. I have to admit I was very confused by this as we were supposed to meet in a few days, and as he is talking to me all I can think about is if this is the day or what day is it really. One of my co-workers also happens to be up front when he stops in. Her name is Ashley and she has been trying to get me to come out with her and her friends for months. So of course when he brings up the fact that we are going out to do something later on this week she wants to join us. At first I try to talk her out of it because I really don’t want her to come, but then I figure at least I will know someone in what is gearing up to be a very awkward evening. Bobby leaves and for the last hour of my shift all she talks about is how excited she is about us all hanging out while I pretend to be just as excited about something I really don’t want to do. She wants to go here and she wants to go there. She managed to get Bobby’s number and she hands me hers. She thinks we should meet up here at work and then go from there. The rest of the details are vague as I stop listening to her and nod my head as if I care. She keeps smiling at me and it feels strange. I’ve known her long enough to know she is a friendly person and acts this way towards everyone. Though today it feels different. The hour passes and I tell her I will see her later this week. Her excitement is already killing me I think as I clock out and go outside. My mom is already waiting for me which is pretty awesome because it has to be colder out here than it was last time. Still no snow, the clouds were a lie. My mom asks how my day was and is overjoyed that Ashley will be joining us. “She is that really cute girl up front right?” she asks. I answer with a sure and I guess, but I quickly stop talking. I just want to get home and wait out my days. Of course last week I try to get out of this so I told my mom I was available on Thursday but I actually work so we are hanging out afterwards because no one wanted to cancel.

 

 

There is an Emptiness Within My Soul

It keeps beat

Hot and cold

Wouldn’t call it a heart

I’d call it a hole

The Date Rapist

“You can’t sit there,” a voice out of nowhere exclaims. “Why the fuck not?” I ask into the darkness. “There is a rapist on the loose. Well a date rapist or something like that. He might even be you. I don’t know,” the voice without a face says. “Why is it always a man? How come it is never some big breasted, sexy woman who is out to get everyone using nothing but her vagina to seek revenge? Always a man and his oh so powerful dick coming to wreak havoc on the world,” I huff. I still haven’t managed to look for the source of the voice. It has to belong to a woman. “Are you serious right now?” She asks. I don’t bother responding. “Women can’t rape men. Everyone knows that. How the hell would that even work anyways? Rape is an act of anger and hate forced onto an individual that isn’t willing to participate sexually,” she informs me. “What are you a fucking dictionary?” I ask. “Know what it doesn’t matter because you are wrong. A woman can rape a man in more ways than one. Just because their dick is hard doesn’t mean that they want to have sex. That is the same as saying because a woman was all wet it means she wanted it. She wanted it so badly. We are programmed to fuck in a subconscious level even if we don’t want to,” I interject.  “You are raping my ears right now with your dirty talk,” the voice says. “Then you have the whole other level of raping that doesn’t even involve dicks. I mean anything can be inserted into an anus from a finger to an action figure. So really to say a woman can’t rape a man is wrong. She can if she really wanted to. Granted she would have to overpower the man, but the same drugs men use to accomplish their goal are also available to women. Let’s face it though most men are little bitches now a days anyways so, really a woman might not even need drugs in the first place,” proudly proving my point. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She asks in disgust. “Hey you brought up the topic of rapist and some ignorant shit about how women couldn’t possibly be one,” I answer. “Oh so now I am ignorant because I don’t believe a woman can rape a man. That sounds real intelligent. You are so smart I wish I could be as smart and stupid as you. I was just trying to be safe and now I’m the bad guy,” She had more to say but gets interrupted. “Excuse me do we have a problem here?” A male voice asks from out of no where. “Oh fuck,” we both exclaim in unison. I reach for my pepper spray. Spraying the little can in no general direction towards the male voice. She apparently had the same idea as me. We don’t stop spraying until our cans are empty. The pepper spray mist cloud clears and we stand there watching as the man lies on the ground kicking and screaming. The strong stench of urine coming up from where he lays. There is a dark outline growing around the crotch of his uniform that becomes visible even in the shallow light of the street lamp. “I’m a fucking cop,” he screams rubbing his eyes. “What do we do?,” I shout before dropping the can of pepper spray. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” a big breasted and sexy woman suggests. To scarred to do anything else we run into the darkness to afraid to look back.

Something Different

I Will Find You

I can feel everything come pouring out
A long suicide letter to myself
Stretched out, I’m destroyed
Broken shell leaking out all that is left
If only I had known
If only I was told
Could I have changed my ways
Would I have not succumbed to my fate
I can feel all that there ever was
A long memory of everything
Each thought stabbing to get out
I lost it all
Lost everything I didn’t know
I could lose
My soul is so tormented
By the thought
Digging my own grave
How deep will I dig
How sad must I keep myself
When is it that this all began
At birth
At death
Somewhere in between
The thought haunts me
The thought consumes everything
A long suicide letter to myself
In the end everything left inside
If I could, would I change at all
I thought I knew what I
I thought I understood
What I wanted all along
Gave into the pressure
Drowned by the wave
Ride it all out into the
Into the undertow
Ride it all out into
My grave

Long Before

The blood it drips as it falls
The life fails as it goes on
The end is near
Though it has been all along
The difference between life and death
Is a heartbeat
The soul fades as it goes
The death grows as it goes
The end is near
Though it has been all along
The difference between life and death
Is a heartbeat
The difference between life and death
Is a heartbeat
A heartbeat that no longer seems to feel
Destroy the will and what became left
Soulless but who really knows before it is too late
The difference between life and death
Is nothing more than a heartbeat
The difference between me and you
Is nothing more than a heartbeat
The loneliness, the sadness, the happiness
Is nothing more than a heartbeat away
The heartbeats from within my chest
The life flows from out my wrist
The end is near but it was there long before

Mountain of Questions

The white picket fences have been torn down
From the post to the ground
It all lays flat all around
The existence of dreams proves
There is something more to you and me
The clothes have all but came off
From our heads to our toes
They lay flat on the floor
The fact that we aren’t disgusted yet proves
There is something more to you and me
The marriage is all but gone
Divorce tore everything
Right the fuck out the ground
The anger between us proves
There is so much more to you and me

They say fire lead to life
Then what did love bring to the picture
Some could guess but the true answer is death
We pretend it’s funny because it is
You know it’s sad
But it’s true
If you hold your breath than maybe
That dizzy, sickness feeling won’t go away
Walk it off the pain subsides after
A while if you know anything about bottles
You’ll know they don’t leave any answers
Only a mountain of questions

And Other Things From This Time Preview

Survival Instinct

I can smell the new smell of death
Disgusting, digesting, fermenting
Or is it the smell of day old oil
I’m unsure as unclassified as one can be
I break into the vault only to find that it’s all gone
Nothing is ever what it seems
Yet I sit and sit waiting for something new
Each day a tiny, little bit of a disappointment
I forgot what it means to say
I forgot what it’s called
But I’m sick of waiting

I can hear a voice calling my name
Obnoxious, horrid, abstentious
Or is it someone screaming for help
I’m unsure as uncommunicable as one can be
I walked into the wrong area only to find that they had all moved on
Everything is always what it seems
Each minute a tiny, little bit of disappointment
I forgot what it means to see
I forgot what it was that I saw
But I’m sick of always wondering

I can see a figure in the distance
Disfigured, distracting, dismembered
Or is it only me from the shadows
I’m unsure as unbelievable as that could be
I destroyed every mirror only to learn there was never an image
Nothing is ever what it seems
Each second a tiny, little bit of a disappointment
I forgot what it means to be
I forgot what it was that I heard
But I’m sick of never knowing

Will Know

Dancing through the darkness
Hands and feet in the air
Car wrecked left vacant
With little despair
You blame me, I blame them
Who are they
Strangers once now equals
I thought I knew myself
Thought all things were all there
Bits and pieces
Scrapped from the road
Can’t get it all
But the vultures will know
Picking and scratching at the meat
Of my mind
Had I only wished it was me
That has died

Yeah, But What is He Trying to Say?

The table sticks to the page
But the words are falling right off
Maybe I never had it at all
Maybe it was all just a lie built up in my head
Reality is nothing more than what we pretend to portray
Liars, little liars we are
Pretending to know when really we don’t know at all
Is any of this really English or is it all made up?
I don’t know you tell me in your own made up language
The words dictate the feel of everything it really means
Sentence and structure makes no sense
When you hold everything up to a lens
But we over analyze everything anyways
The answer is fuck you encase you missed the point
Your coloring book must be filled up
If you really think I care
By the way Hitler wants his mannerisms back
Because he said they are over played
Yeah I can be witty and mean at the same time
Welcome to the conversation, not that your opinion
Matters at this point

Awaken

Blood drips from the walls, “Awaken.” Blood drips from the walls as shadows dance above me. They take the form of hooded nightmares, “Awaken.” They chant over and over for no reason at all until I obey. Shaking I reach for the glass on the nightstand. Straight whiskey and straight down. The whiskey makes me what to puke, even after all this time, to the point that I don’t know if I have or it is only the burn of the liquor. I light a cigarette as I sit up in bed. I can still hear their words just as I did as a child. “Awaken,” they chant but why? Why always the same nightmare from my past. The darkness of the room subsides as I put out the half-finished cigarette. I want to sleep but I want to reach for the light just as much. A darkness resides in me. A darkness I am no closer to understanding even into adulthood. I begin to drift asleep once again.

The blood drips down the walls of the hall. I hesitate before continuing the cold sticky feel with every step. A low light at the end of the hall grows as I get closer. The blood drips into pools as my eyes focus on the light. I enter the room at the end of the hall. Lite with candles I can see the bodies lying in the corners of the room. Living or dead I do not know. I can feel my pajamas becoming wetter and wetter as I stand there in horror. Scared I ball up on the floor. The figures rise and come towards me as I scream. “Awaken,” they chant as a bounding rhythm comes from beyond. I scream louder and louder until I awake to the sound of my neighbor pounding on the wall. “Awake the fuck up you freak,” he shouts. My pissed soaked pants clinging to my legs. “Fuck you,” I shout back. “Fuck you,” I whisper under my breath.

My therapist says that I should keep a sleep journal. Write down my thoughts and dreams. How I feel. Scared I feel scared and confused. The images don’t leave my mind I tell her every time. A sleep journal is pointless, but all she says is that it will help. Help what? Relive the same nightmare over and over again. My brain hurts from the hangover. My brain hurts from all the thinking. I want to drain my skull and forget it all. Hit the start over and watch it drift away. Can’t sleep without the drink. The drink is what got me in trouble. A cycle of bull shit. I wish I knew where this started. Wish I could remember so I could forget. The day goes on but it is the night that I fear.

Work is hard to come by for a drunk. Another lost job doesn’t mean much when you live in shit hole to begin with. I trade my food stamps for cash. Be easier if they only feed my addiction and not my stomach. I have another interview for some shitty job later today. The interview is easy. It is easy to get the job, but keeping one on no sleep and a deep hangover is the hard part. Even worse when the days bleed together as they have lately. Is today the interview? Or is it tomorrow? Taking another drink. “What does it matter anymore?” I ask no one in particular. A radiant silence feels the room. One more couldn’t hurt.

“Awaken for we are here. Awaken,” the voices chant. A wetness hits my head. Drip after drip, “You must awaken. The demon calls for a sacrifice. Awaken child for it is time.” I awaken as a drop of liquid smacks the center of my forehead. I wipe it clean and even the moonlight that lights my room I can tell that it is blood. Scared I scramble to sit up in my bed. Another drop smacks the top of my head. I look up at the ceiling and scream as I fall out of bed. A large dark spot rests over my bed. I begin to weep as I sit on the floor. What has been done? “Why are you so weak?” A voice from the corner asks. I can see a shadowy figure but can’t make out the features in the dark. “We had so much hope for you. You only failed us in the end,” the figure continues. I want to reach for the light but I am too scared. “Maybe it is because you were the last of them. Could that be why you are so weak? Could that be why you never fulfilled your purpose? Your brothers were no better. Dying in wars or failing after a few murders, but at least they embraced what they were,” the figure pauses. “What,” I finally bring myself to say. The figure ignores what I said, “You seek help and use alcohol like a crutch. So weak you have become. Could it because you are my son? Were we not hard enough on you as we were the others? I question our actions every day. Did we do the right things? Too much faith in one’s actions leads them to failure.” I wipe the tears from my face and only find more blood, “What happened to my neighbors upstairs?” “Don’t you know that after all this time you have awaken?” The figure asks. The scream of a little voice pierces the night air. “It would appear that you have missed one,” the voice states before laughing. “My child the failure.” “I am not your child,” I shout back. “Are you not? Rise and finish what you have started,” the figure shouts back. The screams upstairs have turned to loud sobbing. Without thought I stand up. I try to fight my actions as I grab the bloody knife off the nightstand and leave the room. Slowly ascending the stairs the knife drags against the wall leaving a trail to where I am going. The knife follows a similar path as before. Bloody footprints descends the worn out stairs. My footprints retrace my previous steps. How can I not remember this from before? Entering the apartment I look down the long hallway at the light at the end. A shadow dances from within the room as I continue my march along the path.  Bodies line the sides of the wall execution style. A child wanders around the room crying unable to console herself, unable to understand what has happened. Unable to see the hooded monsters that surround her. From behind me I hear the figure say, “Finish what you have started.”

“I didn’t start this,” I tell the voice. “Of course you did,” the figure laughs. “Who else could have done something like this?” The figure says in its cryptic voice. The unaware child is now aware of me. She walks to me eyes red from the rubbing, from the tears. She stands before me scared, but unsure. “You can’t fight what you are destined to do. Fate has a place whether you believe or not. Best to do what needs to be done,” the figures voice is somber but unapologetic. My body and soul on rails does what I tell it to not. I grab the child by the neck and push her to the ground. Her little body fights it but she contains no equal strength to myself. She hits the hardwood floor with a thud. Terror washes over her face. Even she can sense the danger she is in. I cut the child’s eyes out of her skull. I weep for my sins.  As I listen to her screams it becomes so clear that everything has led up to this. I slit her throat and watch as her little heart push the blood out of her throat until there is no more strength. Flashes of the past enter my mind. Face after face I realize the monster I have become, the monster I have always been. “In the darkness child is when we learn what we truly are. In the darkness is when our true self awakens,” the cryptic voice lingers in my mind. “Awaken.”