Fissures and cracks within my soul
Where they come from
I’m afraid I do not know
Relentless and forthcoming
I keep swimming
Even though I know I’m drowning
My body wants to stop, my mind says fuck it all
If I gave up now
What would be the point at all
Love is this thing we’ll
Never get back
Lies just fill up the cracks
Nothing feels like it used to
Everything feels as though it is something I have to do
Never ending list of shit I have to sit through
Becoming so bitter, became an old man running out of youth
Time is eternally ticking away
Slowly running out of reasons to live
I have the basics, but even those are becoming obsolete
Dragging my soul through day to day
Dancing through midnight, marching to the grave
Autopilot enabled and there’s no reason to think
Nothing feels like it used to
Lost hope that anything new will come along
Even as the world around me changes rapidly
No reason to believe that I will ever change
As I grow more and more obsolete
This is all about nothing more than notes on the subject. The subject of isolation. The subject of despair. Am I lost? What about me gives up the answers so easily? Signaling words with fire. Following the smoke only to know it goes right back here all along. My constant complaining has become something insignificant to how I feel on the subject of my soul. The drinking helps get past these made up feelings. Locked in a box. Clawing at the sides. Screaming for air until my last breath. Hope no one is dumb enough to let me out. A play on words. A play on the meaning of not knowing at all. A long walk to nowhere at all. Told to enjoy the view through swollen eyes. Whoever said I didn’t enjoy the pain? Gnawing on glass. Dripping blood on the thoughts. A bloody smile that should tell you all you need to know. I’m enjoying this more than I lead on. Chewing on glass is all I’ve ever need after all.
And so ends a long list of Broken Up Thoughts… I try to find some synergy to the thoughts… Either by a word or a line…. But today seemed like a perfect day to live up to the name…. Not everything in my head makes sense at all times… Not even sure where I am going with this statement… I took a few days off to get a handle on what it is that I want to say… Three days later and still no answers… Even went for a hike out in the woods behind my house… The isolating barrier I put between me and the rest of the world… Peeking through the curtains made of dead leaves and broken branches… I have to say… Not for me…. Maybe I’ve always been destined to keep my distance from a place I don’t understand… Who knew I had so much to say about nothing at all….
I can feel it all dissipate. The everlasting gaze, the everlasting days. I watch it all disappear into the air. One more mile and I’ll be there. One more thought and I’ll be fine. One more minute and I could die. What I am thinking of is neither a thought or an action. It is merely nothing at all.
Each day takes its toll, it changes, and moves me right along like the last and the one before it. Time is nothing more than a gauge for where we have been. Broken down space that is constantly moving. A path without an end. A journey that is endless until it’s not. Even then still in constant motion. The world so small yet it doesn’t seem that way at all. Lately nothing is what it seems.
I’m tired and I’m not. Wide awake and dying for sleep. An hour here and an hour there. Everything ticking away at what little consciousness I have left. Tomorrow will be here with or without me. Even though I’m stuck somewhere in between. Stuck like a ghost between living and dying. Death and life. Who am I if I am no one at all?
“The devil made me do it. Tell them that. Tell them anything I don’t give a fuck,” I put my cigarette out on the table. “You didn’t even finish that one,” my lawyer says as he wipes the ashes and the butt into his briefcase. I light up another one out of spite more than need. It is the first hit that we all crave not the last. “We need to come up with a better strategy than the devil,” He starts up. “Like what? That I took a pistol to each one of their heads and pulled the trigger willingly?” I take a second drag off the cigarette. “Will you please keep your voice down?” He asks me because he knows he has to ask. No one tells me to do shit. Not the cops I killed, not the dealers I create, not even that bitch of a wife back home, no one and I mean no one tells me what to do. “Did you get me that drink or what?”
He hands me a flask out of his briefcase. Sucking down a big gulp of whiskey as he shakes his head. “Really? Nice, look I’m not telling you what you should say or how to run your business, but killing cops? In cold blood no less. That is strictly insane. How am I supposed to get you out of here with these charges?” He wipes another cigarette into his briefcase and I take another drink. “Shouldn’t have been trying to extort me. In my own home no less. What can I say I got a little upset?” “You could have said no or instead of tying them up and executing them you could have dropped them off somewhere. Honestly, anything but what you did might be better than this. The cops.” “The cops can go suck a dick. Do you have any idea how much I pay them to not interfere with my business? A fucking lot and then these rebel ass fuckers come to my house, in front of my family, and ask for more? They got what they deserve and you will get me out of here like you always do because I pay you a fucking lot of money too. So get off your ass, march through those doors, and do what it is that I pay you to do.” He stands up and runs his hands through his greasy hair, “I’ve been up all night trying to do just that. News flash you and all the money in the world are not going to get yourself out of this. I quit.”
“You can’t quit. You know damn well that once you walk through those doors you are a dead man. Your wife and kids are dead too. I’ll make sure that when my boys are through with them it will make what I did look like a mercy killing.” “Empty threats Marco because your boys already hired me to help run their new criminal empire.” I can feel the blood rush from my face, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” My heart skips a beat as my blood pressure rises. I didn’t even hear them come in as the knife goes through the back of my neck. I don’t die. Not right away. No, I get to feel my face slam into the table. I get to feel my blood drain out of my neck. I get to feel, hear, see and live through all of it. Because in my world I get everything that I deserve.
“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…
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…
When everything hit, it hit harder than anyone saw coming. Bullets flew, bodies laid lifeless, and choices were made. Us or them, them or us, me against you, you against everyone. Everything lay in the open. Everything was there for the taking. Nothing was owned, there were no owners. We were free, finally, for better or for worse.
The world was what it was. Then the real battle started. Profits to be made on the once proud nation. No one stays free for very long. Ideas form, humanity takes over. We organize, we destroy, we rebuild, and then we die. No one who started this lived with their choices. No one who began this was there to live the consequences of their actions. We could start again, but to what end?
To what end do we take what we have and destroy it back to nothing? To bleed is to live and to live is to die. We all want whats best for me, but never what is best for us. The cycle repeats only to follow the same pattern. The pattern is endless. Burned and scarred into our history, into the very fabric of our souls. We fight the very thing we already know.