Silently Screaming

Rage of Hope (People with No Face)

Must make myself
Better
Must make myself
Beautiful
Must make myself
Needed
Scars across my face
Broken glass for teeth
Maggots crawl through my eyes
Not enough to despise (death’s embrace)

Must make myself something
More
Must make myself into something
Desirable
Must make myself feel
Whole
Embalming fluid in my veins
Sinister smile across my face
Broken nails in each vertebrae
Not enough (death’s embrace)

Must make myself
Better
Must make myself
Beautiful
Must make myself
Useful
Into a whore
Into more
Embrace deception
Become the lie
Never enough
Never whole
Always more

Death holding me down
The ground so wet
The world such a threat
Bleeding conscience
Pumping embers into my heart
Why does it have to hurt
Why does it have to matter so much
Death dances all around me
Death’s embrace closest thing to love

The ground trembles for fear of life
The world in a silent spin
Bleeding to live
No one cared enough to listen to me
No one cared why should they
Becoming something better than this
What it is they want me to be

Why does it have to hurt
Why does it have to matter so much

Death is nothing more than a change
Death’s embrace, Death’s last whisper
Silently screaming
All I am worth 
My beauty, my body, who I am on the outside
A life made up of uselessness
Finding purpose in nothing
Am I better now
Am I beautiful now
Am I whole now
That I know where I belong

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I don’t normally explain my poems… I feel it is up to the reader to decide what the words means… like a fucked up version of reading tea leaves… this one is a little different… This one I did that for myself… I found this poem in my notes… originally it was about me… selfish as I am… but as I was reading it… it reminded me of someone else… the whole thing took on a different meaning for me… you may have noticed the shift about midway through the poem… 

This poem reminded me of a woman I used to work with years and years ago… We were friends then… it was a weird time… I was too self-absorbed in my own bullshit to really process what it was that she was telling me… the short and private version of this story is that she was raped… But that wasn’t what stuck with me… it was her lack of caring about what had happened to her… I asked her if she reported it… and all she projected was this attitude that it didn’t matter… this kind of thing happens all the time… for the record it does and it shouldn’t… she was trying to be a model… was a model… she isn’t the type of person I normally hang out with… “someone who cares only about their looks”… like I said it was a weird time… 

I was young and I was stupid… I didn’t see beyond her looks… I judged her just like the rest of the world… thought she was full of emptiness… but really she was full of pain… same as me… we hung out a few times… but I couldn’t stand the fact that she would agree with everything I said… a trait I contributed to stupidity… a coping mechanism… I didn’t understand at the time… a fear that she didn’t have to convey around me… I wasn’t interested in hurting her… but when anyone can be the enemy… when anyone could hurt you… much easier to go along… to the point that you don’t even exist… we lost touch when I got a new job… part-time friends… her story still stuck with me…

 

Broken Reality

This is something I would only say to my best friend, but since that is you and since you aren’t you anymore. I have to feel. I have to live as though I am alone. I see you every day. Walking by me as if this is all normal. Walking by me like everything is okay. The hardest part wasn’t what happened. Yes, that was a lot of shit to just take in. The hardest part. The thing I can’t say to you or talk about with you. Has everything to do with you and nothing to do with you. It’s why I can only say it to my best friend, someone I trust, and not whatever this is. The hardest part of all of this. Is going from thinking I’m spending the rest of my life with this one person to I hope I never have to see them again. Seeing you every day is a constant reminder of these feelings that won’t go away. Pretending to smile feels like a thousand knives. Lying when you ask what’s wrong feels like another part of me is dying.

None of this matters. All words that can’t be said. That don’t need to be said. All words locked inside my head. Replaying them over and over again.

The ashes they burn
The hell I have created heats up
Something needs to happen
None of the answers are acceptable
The tears as real as the pain
Forever escaping me, not an option
Your opinion on the events
Broken train of thought
Broken life I have to live
Shattered into nothing
Left chewing on what’s left
What is left when all hope is gone?
A long time coming, slow-moving
Slow to act, now left with the damned
The truth will set you free
The truth will leave you in a shallow grave
Life is a waste, built on past mistakes
Far worse than death, a sentence pierced into my head
If only I could think of anything else
Anything beyond the nothingness
So lost that it hurts
When you think this could be the best
When you think this could be the worst
Hold tight, the undertow is only a thing
Until it takes a hold
Drags you deeper and deeper
Open your eyes
Then you can see, clearly, this is all there ever was for you
Pain

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This is going to be a long month… a long lifetime…purging myself of all this shit… figuring out who I am again… rebuilding a broken corpse of a man once again…  been keeping busy… okay… I have been busy staring at a wall… feeling sorry for myself… hopefully, that will all be done soon… in the meantime… prepare for a lot of heartbreak… 

Still, have shirts up on Threadless… didn’t get around to designing any new ones like I had hoped… books still available on Amazon… Until next time… take care… and remember nothing is forever… so enjoy it… whatever it is… while it lasts… 

Not Much Left To Say

Dress all in black to match my shadow
Fit into my skin, stretched out and hollow
Wash away my sins
When there’s no way left to win
Bleeding me dry to exist
So tired of throwing the same old fit
Most days wish I did not exist
Suicide is pointless when no one gives a shit
The world works so unlike the mind
Lost in time, stuck in place
Who I am, Who I want to be
Sell my soul, nothing left to sell though
The devil makes deals than God must as well
No one, nothing safe from sin and corruption
Sex sells, cheaply given away, cast aside
Question everything ever presented to me
What am I worth if I’ve felt worthless along
Attacking my own mind, my own worst enemy
Hidden behind my eyes
Poisoning my own self to feel like the rest
Who needs a shepherd when we have ourselves
Conforming but don’t know what for
Too much shit on my mind and none of it matters at this time
Sixteen days, sixteen years what’s the difference
When it all slips away
I feel so naked without a place to go
Life in boxes, moving pictures with poor resolution
I wanted so much now there is so much left that I do not want
Contradictions become constricting
Venomous snake wrapped around my neck
The noose is alive and well as I begin to sweat
Sticky, sweet flesh of flesh
Bone to bone, I don’t think I have much left to lose
If I gave you enough reasons
Would all of this make any sense
Lost in the words
Lost in time
Space is an abstract thought
We all have to rationalize
This land is your land
Until I take it back
A worthless idea
Propagated the demand
For something free

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I know that it is Thursday… I know I’m supposed to talk out of my ass about some topic I barely understand or relate too… But I haven’t really been in the mood… sucks because there have been some pretty crazy topics as of late… Like how Facebook knows more about me than my own mother… honestly they might know more about me than I do… feel kind of bad for them… too bad they couldn’t take these broken feeling out of my mind… their recent ads at least tell me they are trying… With a Nailgun and a Few Boards… isn’t a half bad title for a book… haha… I kid… how am I supposed to put the last nail in?… not logical at all… oh well…

Then there are the school walkouts… good for them… wish we would have been smart enough to do that sooner… this next generation is something else… agree or disagree with their reasons… you have to admit… it takes a lot to make a stand… is there anything more American?… besides suppression?…

Teachers asking for more money… they deserve it… anyone willing to make our lives better… deserves more money… at least some food stamps… or free housing… something… I mean I am willing to do just about anything… but teach children?… maybe in hell… well my dark thoughts just washed away… life is good.. keep smiling… and give them some more damn money… 

Update… Lemons and I are really behind on Lemonade and Glass… We have both been going through a lot… not with each other… but separately… that’s all that needs to be said about that really… I mean I’ve been busy trying to drown myself in my own tears… so far it hasn’t worked… fingers crossed… and she has been busy being an awesome person… we are trying to cover the spectrum of life right now… we are kicking ass at that… But hopefully, I can read her last email and start setting up the next installments next month… not really sure when I will be getting myself out of this bathtub… What did you think I was using a glass?… I’m not that smart… But you had to know that by now… 

In the meantime… here is a music video instead of my usual sad shitty sales pitch… links are at the top… I think… I really need to get out of the house… or at least the bathroom… 

Broken Thoughts

Her pain is internal, long lasting, and forever. It is a constant as rich as her words. Nothing seems to make her happy anymore. She is lost. In a place, I can no longer find. It is as though from time to time she has an out of body experience. An external meltdown where she is no longer here or there.

cropped words chewing on glass

I’m writing this from my grave
It’s in my head but that’s okay
Some days I wish it would all go away
Others for it to never end
Blessing and a curse
I just don’t understand why it has to hurt
The writing is on the wall
But I’m happy to watch it all fall
Sliding down into the abyss
A long dark descent into shit
Blessing and a curse
I just don’t understand why it has to be this way
The words are sprawled against my chest
But I’m happy to watch it all settle in
“We spend most of our lives just glancing. Glancing at the thought or idea of something better.”

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Promoting something… Promoting my soul… Promoting something I don’t know… 

Post Script of the Unimaginative

I can see her crying. Tears stream down her face like open rivers with no place to go. She is but a stranger in a sea of them. She is different. She stands out as her tears fall to the ground. No one pauses to help her. A glance and they keep on going. Beyond my very own observation, I am no better. I don’t care. We are all dying inside. One step from our tears joining together.

Her tears only spell weakness in a world so harsh watching someone die seems to be the real past time. Why should I care about her and her problems? I don’t know her and I don’t really care to get to know her. She keeps on moving and I keep sitting. The world turns even in deep sadness. Judgment past in but an instant. Not enough thoughts in my mind to care anymore.

We all live in our own perfect tragedies. Incentivised by our very own pain. Layer after layer added until it becomes too much to bare. Crushing under the defeat of our own simple emotions. We create so much pain to dwell on. When in reality nothing beyond what is in front of you matters.

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We often overlook true pain even when it is staring us right in the face… It wasn’t my place to ask what was wrong… Maybe I could have helped her?… Maybe she didn’t need my help?… No idea… But it was enough for past me to dwell on as I waited for my bus… 

ThreadlessAmazon… You know while you are waiting… Something to pass the time… 

Be Anything You Want to Be

We all have something to distract us. For some t is things. Mountains and mountains of shit with no apparent meaning. For others it is sex. One if not the greatest distractions there is or could ever be. For those with this affliction, they have yet to experience one of many types of accidents. Whether it be STDs or even worse pregnancy. After either one of those horrific resolutions though sex becomes just becomes a meaningless distraction as what they were trying to avoid in the beginning. It isn’t the sex they crave it is everything that comes with it. The power, the chase, the distraction because is that the essence of life? To avoid actually living it. Anything to avoid having to go through life would be ideal.

Working nine to five, too much life. Taking the children to school, too much life. Killing oneself literally, figuratively is a sin.  Whether you believe in a higher power or not. This distraction is a sin. Unless of course you do it in moderation and drag it out. Life has a purpose for you, not God. These ideas are radical in every sense of the word. Why though? Why must we have a purpose? How could everyone ever have an honest reason to live? These questions escape my brain. I have no answers only more questions about things that don’t matter. Am I lost? Sure, who isn’t anymore?

I have yet to find my purpose in this life. Though I have found more distractions to occupy a lifetime. Some of which have caused me more pain than pleasure at this point. Not sure how to go about erasing past sins, past regrets. I can only hope those affected by them forgive me as I look for my purpose.

A burden lifted off your chest
Placed in my heart
A space I called for you
Now nothing more than a rotten corpse
It will take time to understand
Understand how I feel about your betrayal
A denial I refuse to believe
Though we’ve all known it is true
Things will never be the same
We’ll try but we know
This is the end to all that we know
No going back, I’m done, caught up with you
Trust is something that should never be believed
Trust in no one because someone will let you down
Everything in the past has been our future all along

Waiting for the last piece of me to die…

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Everything is not okay… but there is nothing that can be done that hasn’t already been tried… There is only so much we can do in life and trying is the biggest one… Nothing wrong with that… At least we can say that we tried… 

AmazonThreadless… Shit, I have to say can always be found right here… Hope all is well… 

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…

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