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

Felling Sorry For Myself Once Again

Hoarder-home

I’m a collector of many things. Things I like, things I don’t need. Legos, toys, pens, pencils, notebooks, trash, books, thoughts, words, and the list goes on. I don’t do anything with this shit. Stare at it as it mocks me. Stare at it as it reminds me of why I have to what it is I have to do. Remind myself when there is time. There is never any time. I can’t sit still long enough to make time. A million things going on at once and not a damn thing done.

A process I’ve cultivated for no reason at all.  My hands can barely get out the words. Broken and hurting from all the work.  A thousand cases in three days wasn’t enough. A thousand reasons to not give a shit flooding into my mind. What am I here for? Why do I waste my time? I’m here to serve and I do it just fine.

Two days off and all I can think about is work. It doesn’t think about me. So why can’t I stop? None of it matters. Every day I step into this place. None of it matters. If I just said fuck it. They’d hire someone else and move on. Maybe it is time I do the same? Never wanted anything they are offering. The money sure we all need some form of it. Health insurance? I’m there so much the only thing kill me is them or myself.

Could be worse. Could have to hunt and kill my own food. Make my own clothes. Build my own shelter. Invent my own vices. It could be worse. I could have to learn how to live.

For those of you paying attention… I didn’t get to my post 5 Words I like and One That I Hate this month… I have a draft, but it is shit… I was going to post the draft… Release it from my mind… But the story I want to tell is a story I want to tell… So next month… give it some more time… Ran out of time this month… Work is dragging me under once again… hints the post today… If I can’t give you the post I wanted… at least I can give you the excuse… It seems as of late that I am full of them… 

Broken Thoughts

The chambers of the heart
Keep pumping blood
Even if there is no will to go on
Patience but for what
A long waiting game for nothing at all
I carved one out
Only to give one up
Nothing feels natural anymore
A made up act
I call love
Doesn’t matter anymore where it comes from
If only my thoughts could match my actions

 

The image it haunts me. An image from my past but how could it exist in the present unless time is bleeding into itself once again. I thought I escaped this. I thought I fixed but it seems I have only distorted the truth. Turned a blind eye to the facts. I pick up the walking stick from my past and realize it is in fact real. Am I losing my mind? How can I erase something that has already been erased? Stuck between times there is no outlet for my crimes. No sense of right and wrong anymore. What else if any is out of place in this timeline? I search the horizon. Need more time to know for sure? I take the walking stick from the past and trek on into the unknown.

 

Sat around today
Doesn’t mean anything
Thought I would share
My inner thoughts
Going through hell
Marching past the gates
Lakes of fire burning bodies made of shit
They are heard but with no real thought
Doesn’t rhyme at the an end I don’t care
The Jesus freaks sing their hymns to me
As though it might help
The blood cascades down the wall
You know you are home
When everything is comfortable
Bones line the edges of the room
You know you are home
When everything is fine
Skin drapes the furniture
You know you are home
When everything is normal

 

If someone gave me a million dollars. Anyone at this point the reason doesn’t have to make sense. If anyone gave me a million dollars. I’d watch it burn. Dollar by dollar. One bill at a time. That’s how I feel right now. I don’t know how to make it go away. It all seems so useless to struggle for. Who are we when the money is all gone? Who are we when we have more than we will ever need? Who are we at all? If not for our needs.

The theme for this week is greed… truly broken thoughts… always wanting more… more of something… more food… more money.. more sex… more pain… greed doesn’t go away with more… too much of a good thing is never enough…  considered one of the seven deadly sins… Greed is hard to escape on a day to day basis… who doesn’t want more?… what defines more?… at what point should we cut ourselves off from more?… I know I could always use more… more sleep usually… more of anything at this point… turns out I am human after all… was holding out for different… but I’ll settle for human… 

Something Different

Together Until the End

The thoughts like suicide loses meaning
If done more than twice
Never look back, Keep plowing ahead
None of this will matter when we are all dead
Nuclear holocaust, burning until there is no resolve
Whoever said the cold war had ended is dead now
I’m telling you to have something to say
Not that anyone would listen anyway
Who am I, amongst the masses
Who am I, amongst the depressed fascists
There can be no voice of a generation
If everyone is shouting at the same time
How is it that the dumbest rise above us
How is it that we could be so blind
Falling for the same tricks time after time
Maybe in the end, there is no intelligent life after all
Maybe we deserve each other, deserve the graves we’ve dug
At least in this, we will finally be one
Rotting and bleeding, once and for all

Unleashed Thoughts

Sweating bullets made of glass
Shattering on the ground
Pick up the pennies that have become
Worth barely more than worthless
Time is money, couldn’t trade time for money
Getting paid seems like an afterthought
To living at all
Breaking down the seconds into monetary value
Turning all the lies into regret
What has this become over time
A suspicion, a waste of energy
Give anything to take it back
But not what it takes to push ahead
Self-doubt is all there ever was
Broken mind and lost ideas of nothing
Spinning tales just to get by
Begging for more than there is to offer
Living in the present to only drown in the past

 

Broken Up Thoughts

I know everything I need to do but I’m just scared…

Everything lasts if only for a moment. A moment in time lost forever…

Feel so left out even though I was invited. Invitation still in the mail I suppose. Invited none the less. It was as though we could have sat this one out but showed up anyways…

The sadness grows infinite. Dripping down but never draining away. As though I exist without existing at all. A lost parallel to nothing wrapped in sentiment and sin.

Fun to watch from a distance as the distance becomes greater and greater. Their faces still smiling though only with the slightest hint of fear. Go alone into the great nothing or hold everyone close for dear life. Either option succumbs the same fate. There is no life after death no matter how much we pray.

Everything is different even if it is the same. We tell ourselves if only I could go back to this moment or that moment, but it is just shit we say to ourselves. Like one more and I’m done. Three more later our stomach-aches and we are left knowing why. Can’t go back only forward. Good or bad forward is all we know.

The world is changing but we are all staying the same….

We live in a play set world where death is an option not a way of life. We take every single breath for granted yet they still don’t mean anything. There will be more to come. Tomorrow is another day not the end…

How far must I go
To reach the end of the world
Staring off the edge of a cliff
The whole world laid out below
I feel the paradise but at a loss
I see everything that doesn’t need to exist
When the world goes
Will I remember any of this

Really stretching the meaning of this post with this one… I was trying to clear off some of the pages on my desk… random bits of paper… nine down… a thousand more dead trees to go… a massacre laid out amongst the rest… So many Broken Thoughts still scattered in my brain… a slow drip… driving me insane… A happiness… I could never find… a rotting of the core… They say I am great at nothing at all… Believed the lies and now I am on display… Displaced from a reality that I must live… Day to day… everything will be okay… Post script of the unimaginative…

Something Different

Breakdown

Working towards something
Pushing myself to the edge
The brink of everything that’s real
The point at which I am dead
Keeps digging, the mind wants more
Keep reliving, the memories I deserve
Stains on broken glass
Visions left without words
Bring to life everything that I fear
Bring the innocent to their knees
Beg for forgiveness though no reason why
I belong to everything, now that is a lie
Working the words into something
Something ugly, the way that I feel
I’m sure by now you can tell
I don’t care about you and how you feel

With Our Ideas On Fire

Broken visions of a better day
Longing fears of something real
A daily grind with a cross to bare
I think I know what it means
I think I’d be wrong
Following in footsteps made of glass
Drowned with air made of poison
A daily grind with our knives on display
I think I know what it means
I think in some way I’d be wrong
Forgiving misgivings yet to happen
Sympathetic to reasons already written
A daily grind with a knotted noose
To be you, to be me
I think I’d be wrong
In assuming I’d have any idea at all

 

 

Broken Thoughts

Another shitty night bleeds into another subconscious day
Locked into nothing at all, fight to stay awake
Breaking bones to stay in the game with no goal
If only I had known the rules might not have tried at all
Gave it away for nothing at all, Giving it away
A cause and effect of a generation gone by
The words change but they always mean the same thing
Killing the weak to prove I’m strong for no reason at all
Another shitty week produces yet another worthless year
Feel the time pass without doing anything in between the seconds
Fighting with myself, against myself for reasons unknown
The rules were etched in stone, lost in time
Dictating how we live or not at all
The words make no sense but always mean the same thing

“Lost and Walking in Place Become Adolescent, Immature”

Gave up on my dreams to settle for anything
Wrong turn or in the process
What’s the difference if you aren’t willing to try
Sitting in the dark amongst the shadows
A homeless mind with too many responsibilities
Clutching to all the broken dreams
A shattered reality pieced together
This was to be my only way out
Now I’m searching for a reason
To not end it all
Suicide used to be the fuel
Now it is only the fire
Burning myself alive for what
Sacrificing myself to an unholy satisfaction
Give in is to die but I’ve been dead for so long
Retrospective and digging at the past
Need an answer and no religion isn’t it
Faith in anything isn’t cutting it anymore
Need someone to have faith in me
Though what I need always seems to be the wrong thing
Drug against the grain, maybe I have gone insane

Not cold enough to snow, Cold enough to realize I can die
Think it is forever, life is a short amount of time
Lasting forever is an immortal thought left to the damned
Heaven is a lost idea of freedom, Heaven is nothing more than a tool
Conditions will not improve until we improve them
Always waiting for someone, someone to fix the problem
Our own salvation lost in the lazy complications we create
Bleed for your freedom, stop believing in imaginary things
Die for the things you want, Do you still want them for the threat
The threat of losing it all is it worth it for nothing at all
Heaven is a place on earth, Hell sowed right beside it
Choices are made with or without your consent
Decide which side you stand on